Not even three weeks back in town and she was already crawling back to her favorite hell hole. Something about that basement pit always came back roaring to the forefront of her busy mind when sh*t got heavy. There was a sort of calm about the place for all it's noise and writhing bodies, a kind of predictability that offered control, and control was something Bridget desperately sought now and again given how unpredictable the world could reel and turn on you...
Caroline was missing, nabbed and gone without a trace save for the bastard that did it and the lucky girl who caught him in the act. This was another reason Bridget left so often and didn't come back for months on end; something was always going wrong. The family was a constant roller coaster of ups and downs and wicked g-force corkscrews she just didn't have any way to prepare for. Getting too close meant she'd get hurt, and there was already enough hurt she was still mucking through years later after she'd moved out from under her father's liquor soaked thumb. Funny though, that. She spent a good portion of her time staying so far away from her relatives, yet it was that Granger name and infamy that helped her meager talents flourish in an otherwise grossly dominated business.
Her mind was reeling again though, too muddled and full of gears and switches she couldn't rightly control. Ollie was on it, Gigi was cooking something up, and Jonathan was all sorts of mess that she couldn't even stomach to split a smoke with him anymore. She couldn't think about that now though; there was music already calling to her as she hit the door...
Hands cover whispers of the lovers' fright Fear-cloaked renditions of that autumn night...
Her coat was forgotten somewhere in the check, not like it mattered. It was hot as hell inside as usual. There were so many pretty eyes that turned around she didn't even know where to begin. She saw a pair or two whisper, and the bartender behind the counter, all shrouded in shadows, sent her a noncommittal nod amidst the motions of mixing a drink. Some remembered her it seemed....Good. That'd make her game a little less hard to catch.
What awful things happened in the dark?
She didn't dress up often, but this was a place she took on all sorts of accents and trappings that the light of day would be jealous for not seeing. Eyeliner that made her true blues pop all the brighter and more fierce, a dark slash of lip color to take her already plush, pouty tiers to a whole new level of enticing. Something was in her hair, gel or mouse of some sort; something to keep it looking wet and tangled and touchable. It was that something that reeled her in the first piece of beautiful.
Take....Just one last dare Pretend you don't care Till twilight falls.
Young, maybe twenty at best. But she was tall, oh so pretty and tall with legs that looked like they'd be better wrapped up in sheets than the skinny jeans she had painted on. Bridget was more than happy to oblige the girl's wandering hand and take it between her teeth as they moved to the dance floor. Control, pure and simple; she set out her bait, the others nibbled.
Calling for the other Searching for her lover Secrets she discovers drain her face of color...
Ivory skin that sang on for miles, a wild mane with a few roots that looked past their due date for another dye job; she was a doll too precious for anything other than her care at the moment. Something the Granger woman could bend and turn and take up close until she ground back for more. She whispered something, but it was lost in the synth and the pulse of the beat. It didn't matter, Bridget laughed against the girl's ear either way, letting the husky, low timbre of her voice vibrate against her partner's skin. Predictable, easy and sweet; she'd tugged, and the girl bowed.
One, two, three, four...
Back they went, further and further toward the edge of the dance floor. It was darker there, Bridget could run her hands in deeper curves there in the dark. The girl moaned. A cute sound with an even cuter visual of parted lips half glossed and smeared from where she'd caught them earlier.
Underneath the cellar floor.
The girl's legs, those lovely legs she'd spied earlier, they were locked now. Back against the farthest wall, half covered in a deep, maroon, shadow swollen fall of curtains, she stroked her lovely girl all the more, watching her mewl, watching her play the coy thing and take a finger to her lips as Bridget found the warm spaces beneath her shirt, fondled the flesh around that rabbiting heart of hers.
...Five, six, seven, eight.
Control, meditation, cogitation....Pure and simple. There was a calm here she couldn't find elsewhere save the bottom of a bottle or the end of a spliff. This charming creature gave it to her, this atmosphere was her temple in which to find a center. A warm, inviting center.
Lover will suffocate.
Distancing herself from the half clothed beauty before her, Bridget's mind cranked and geared all the clearer. Just as something was building, a plan began to form. She felt the girl attempt to return her favors, but Bridget just kept her pinned, kept her writhing and bucking. She was lost in something sweet, so lost even, that she couldn't look up; her eyes were closed. Were she able to look up, however, she'd see her curvaceous madame had the light of an epiphany behind her lined eyes, and a most content smile sprawling across her shapely face.
With the idea firmly locked away, Bridget brought herself back to the here and now at what could only be described as that perfect moment. Right there, just perfect; she had enough time left to enjoy the fruits of her labor, every sweet bit of them.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
*Lover's End, by The Birthday Massacre
Caroline was missing, nabbed and gone without a trace save for the bastard that did it and the lucky girl who caught him in the act. This was another reason Bridget left so often and didn't come back for months on end; something was always going wrong. The family was a constant roller coaster of ups and downs and wicked g-force corkscrews she just didn't have any way to prepare for. Getting too close meant she'd get hurt, and there was already enough hurt she was still mucking through years later after she'd moved out from under her father's liquor soaked thumb. Funny though, that. She spent a good portion of her time staying so far away from her relatives, yet it was that Granger name and infamy that helped her meager talents flourish in an otherwise grossly dominated business.
Her mind was reeling again though, too muddled and full of gears and switches she couldn't rightly control. Ollie was on it, Gigi was cooking something up, and Jonathan was all sorts of mess that she couldn't even stomach to split a smoke with him anymore. She couldn't think about that now though; there was music already calling to her as she hit the door...
Hands cover whispers of the lovers' fright Fear-cloaked renditions of that autumn night...
Her coat was forgotten somewhere in the check, not like it mattered. It was hot as hell inside as usual. There were so many pretty eyes that turned around she didn't even know where to begin. She saw a pair or two whisper, and the bartender behind the counter, all shrouded in shadows, sent her a noncommittal nod amidst the motions of mixing a drink. Some remembered her it seemed....Good. That'd make her game a little less hard to catch.
What awful things happened in the dark?
She didn't dress up often, but this was a place she took on all sorts of accents and trappings that the light of day would be jealous for not seeing. Eyeliner that made her true blues pop all the brighter and more fierce, a dark slash of lip color to take her already plush, pouty tiers to a whole new level of enticing. Something was in her hair, gel or mouse of some sort; something to keep it looking wet and tangled and touchable. It was that something that reeled her in the first piece of beautiful.
Take....Just one last dare Pretend you don't care Till twilight falls.
Young, maybe twenty at best. But she was tall, oh so pretty and tall with legs that looked like they'd be better wrapped up in sheets than the skinny jeans she had painted on. Bridget was more than happy to oblige the girl's wandering hand and take it between her teeth as they moved to the dance floor. Control, pure and simple; she set out her bait, the others nibbled.
Calling for the other Searching for her lover Secrets she discovers drain her face of color...
Ivory skin that sang on for miles, a wild mane with a few roots that looked past their due date for another dye job; she was a doll too precious for anything other than her care at the moment. Something the Granger woman could bend and turn and take up close until she ground back for more. She whispered something, but it was lost in the synth and the pulse of the beat. It didn't matter, Bridget laughed against the girl's ear either way, letting the husky, low timbre of her voice vibrate against her partner's skin. Predictable, easy and sweet; she'd tugged, and the girl bowed.
One, two, three, four...
Back they went, further and further toward the edge of the dance floor. It was darker there, Bridget could run her hands in deeper curves there in the dark. The girl moaned. A cute sound with an even cuter visual of parted lips half glossed and smeared from where she'd caught them earlier.
Underneath the cellar floor.
The girl's legs, those lovely legs she'd spied earlier, they were locked now. Back against the farthest wall, half covered in a deep, maroon, shadow swollen fall of curtains, she stroked her lovely girl all the more, watching her mewl, watching her play the coy thing and take a finger to her lips as Bridget found the warm spaces beneath her shirt, fondled the flesh around that rabbiting heart of hers.
...Five, six, seven, eight.
Control, meditation, cogitation....Pure and simple. There was a calm here she couldn't find elsewhere save the bottom of a bottle or the end of a spliff. This charming creature gave it to her, this atmosphere was her temple in which to find a center. A warm, inviting center.
Lover will suffocate.
Distancing herself from the half clothed beauty before her, Bridget's mind cranked and geared all the clearer. Just as something was building, a plan began to form. She felt the girl attempt to return her favors, but Bridget just kept her pinned, kept her writhing and bucking. She was lost in something sweet, so lost even, that she couldn't look up; her eyes were closed. Were she able to look up, however, she'd see her curvaceous madame had the light of an epiphany behind her lined eyes, and a most content smile sprawling across her shapely face.
With the idea firmly locked away, Bridget brought herself back to the here and now at what could only be described as that perfect moment. Right there, just perfect; she had enough time left to enjoy the fruits of her labor, every sweet bit of them.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
*Lover's End, by The Birthday Massacre