that little storm was you

She looked like she’d stepped out of a Nick Cave song; all wild hair and dark eyes. A tiny bell hung on a long chain around her neck, and it swung against her breasts as she strolled. Her red dress dipped in back to just above her tailbone, and he watched her bare spine arch as she leaned towards the bartender.

He could already taste her.

This wouldn’t take long.

A few murmured words and a hand reached for the highest shelf. He’d read somewhere that a woman’s taste in alcohol could tell you much about her; he was the kind of man who believed these things.

She was the kind of woman who drank from the bottle.

It may have been a waxing moon, but no-one was quite sure.

He walked to the jukebox with his eyes on her. The clear liquid slid into her glass as he tried to recall the verdict of a tequila woman, and came up smiling. Caliente, he remembered. A feisty one.

They used to be his favourite…until that one in the alleyway, with nails that’d taken several layers of skin from his back. He’d keep this one in check though, keep it quick with her hands where they should be.

Easy.

He scanned the song lists, then turned to scan her. Long hair snaked down her back and the thick curls against the fragility of her spine made him close his eyes as he dipped into his pocket for change. She’ll love this one. A coin slid into the slot, and another. They all seem to.

This wouldn’t take long.

Her head tilted as the music began. She didn’t turn her head though, and his eyes narrowed. She was listening to the music uncurl itself from the machine, a slow and heavy beat that crept across the bar. Her foot started moving, one gentle tap after another on the rung of her stool, and she swayed forward with each beat.

Your mouth is a hologram made of spiders bones
Your fingers little soldiers drumming on their way back home
I thought I saw a thundercloud on the avenue
Lightning rattled though the streets, that little storm was you

He waited until the song was halfway through before he closed in. The lampshade threw shadows onto her skin as he moved, the patterns swaying as she kept time with the swell of the music. Still she didn’t look at him, didn’t turn her head as he came behind her.

Only when he placed his hand on the bar in front of her did she lift her gaze. Her eyes were so black he couldn’t see pupils, and for a moment, he hesitated. He thought he could smell oranges.

She flicked the point of her tongue along her bottom lip and smiled.

She could already taste him.

This wouldn’t take long.

© bellmusker 2010

that little storm was you

bellmusker

Melbourne, Australia

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Artist's Description

Inspired by lines in two Nick Cave songs, and their lush hypnotic seduction:
I swear I made every effort to be good to her
I made every effort not to abuse her

Do you love me?

Your mouth is a hologram made of spiders bones
Your fingers little soldiers drumming on their way back home
I thought I saw a thundercloud on the avenue
Lightning rattled though the streets that little storm was you

When my love comes down to meet you

And because you’re never sure what you’re getting yourself into when they turn around…..

Artwork Comments

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