Waiting at the Cafe for Dillion Chiara mused…

Their friendship had seen the heady rush of infatuation, endured the rigors of physical attraction and survived the pull and draw of temptation.

It had been like being dumped in an ocean, the swell and magnitude of his presence in her life had threatened to engulf her, his forceful lure was like a riptide threatening to take her out into the depths of the unknown. It has taken everything se had to use her logic to over ride his commanding force. Now washed up on the shore of their potent encounter she dismissed it as a fleeting crush, a fascination, a primal urge rising inside her, the Darwinian urge to mate with her newly found alpha male. It was natural selection; it was human – find the fittest most attractive member of the opposite sex and mate with it to ensure the survival of the species.

She had many theories when it came to men and was reminded of one of them.

There are two categories of men she was attracted to…

There was the kind you would consider having sex with but would never mate with.

Then there was the breeder altogether a much more dangerous species. For he was the male you would lose your mind over for the urge to fuck him senseless was overwhelming.

She had experienced this once only in her lifetime and it had been with her husband that was until Dillon sauntered into her life. She imagined fucking him till her pelvis shattered…or at least fractured. Now with her logic and panties intact she was proud of her achievement to quell the animalistic forces inside her.

Staring out into the busy street she didn’t see him walk in…she had been waiting 10 minutes for him to arrive and was thrilled he had become a legitimate installment in her life. Looking him over not too carefully she convinced herself again that he was not her type after all.

The waitress Tina was quick to arrive at their table. Tina fancied Dillion she positively dripped in his presence. It was the kind of overt flirtation you could be identified from across the street even if you had left your glasses at home. He did his best to reciprocate and Chiara did her best not to cringe. Women are such strange creatures she thought so bloody predictable, how on earth did men find them confusing? Chest trust upward and outward, hip perched to one side, cue the hair behind the ear gesture, lower the lids and……..there’s the slutty smile. Chi was being perceptive not at all jealous or so she told herself.

Tina gave a watered down version to Chi of what she gave to Dillion in the attention stakes – to balance things out she assumed. Trotting away Tina checked her image in the chrome of the coffee machine in a not to subtle manner. Chi wondered that if Tina invested in the right clothes and a damn good hair cut, perhaps she might even be beautiful, she studied her in a different light this time – as a project, a ray of hope for poor Tina, but no…nope she concluded that even if Tina was to invest heavily in fine quality attire and an equally fine stylist it all would be lost lost. Tina was trashy, harsh and had a brutish sexuality that Chi actually admired. Tina was a diamond in the rough and Chi had to concede was her appeal, she was probably best first thing in the morning fresh faced and sensual, if only she would get rid of that that make up and all the tacky jewelry then her beautiful dark chocolate eyes and ready smile could shine. She had the most superb olive skin skin she looked like she had been dipped in caramel. Chiara wondered that perhaps with a make over that she might fancy Tina diamond in the rough herself.

Coffees and water to wash it down – chit chat exchanged she stopped fidgeting long enough to actually look into his face, something she always avoided there are only so many times one can bow their head before it seems ridiculous.

He was talking she had caught the beginning of it but now something was congealing condensing through her system making her limbs heavy with resignation. Fascinated by his mouth she slumped forward biting her fingertip, her chin on the heel of her hand…

He was still talking but she no longer knew what he was saying…her entire body was now almost flopped across the small tacky table, it was like a clear and sticky delicious fog had descended… she caught herself and sat back, shifting her shoulders into her usual perfect repose.

A sudden flush of panic ran through her and singed her cheeks with blotches of color. Nodding and uhuhing she was now engulfed in dread.

What was that?
Not rage and passion. Semi stupefied she began to question the emotion that had her flopping about like a forlorn school girl.

This simply cannot be…oh god no, no not this please

But already she was sinking; it enveloped her so subtly so discreetly and now it was here like a presence visited upon her.

I cant be, this can not be, please god not this, not love


Dash Ette

Joined July 2008

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

The in’s and out’s, stops and starts…

Artwork Comments

  • Shanina Conway
  • Dash Ette
  • Shanina Conway
  • Dash Ette
  • Shanina Conway
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