NaNoWriMo - The Story So Far, Parts 49-52
49. Liquid Diamonds
I know she's playing poker with the rest of the stragglers.
Gen (I know!), R, 500 words
They don't usually play strip poker, not the boys, because strip poker is a lot less fun when you're surrounded by men. But when Liv and Miranda show up at Elijah's front door with a case of beer in tow and propose a friendly game, none of the assembled men can resist.
Orlando is the first to lose his shirt, probably because he's already had two beers, and he's actually worse at playing poker than he is at holding his liquor. He puts on a bit of an impromptu strip tease, standing up and slowly unbuttoning while walking behind Liv and Miranda and awkwardly shaking his hips. The girls hoot and catcall, while the rest of the boys duck their heads, reluctant to display any interest in Orlando's shapely chest. When he's done, he tries to sit back down with as much dignity as he can muster, which is difficult when he nearly misses his chair.
Dom is the next one to lose, going up against Miranda with a pair of tens and taking a beating by her eights full of fives. He chooses to kick off his shoes, which garners a round of boos from everyone at the table, but especially Orlando, who flexes a bicep and calls Dom's manhood into question. Dom just glares at him and sits silently in his stocking feet.
Viggo loses two hands in a row, his shirt to Liv and his shoes to Miranda. With each losing hand, he unselfconsciously strips and then immediately turns back to the game, ignoring Orlando's pointed comparison of the amount of hair on their chests.
When Billy loses to Dom, he shamelessly strips his slacks off and twirls them over his head, much to the veiled enjoyment of just about everyone at the table, with the possible exception of Viggo, who is still rubbing absently at his own chest and plucking his fingers through the fine layer of hair that covers it.
Dom loses his jeans next, tossing them gracelessly onto the ever-growing pile of men's clothes that has collected in the corner of Elijah's kitchen. His jeans are followed by Elijah's shirt, which Billy immediately insists that he put back on because everyone at the table is blinded by the whiteness of his chest. Elijah pokes his tongue out at Billy and then wins his shirt in the next hand. Billy unabashedly strips it off and throws it at Elijah.
Two hours and the entire case of beer later, Billy and Dom are nearly naked. Billy still has his socks, while Dom has elected to keep his boxers. Orlando sits at the table in only a pair of white briefs, and Viggo is completely naked.
Both Liv and Miranda are still fully-clothed, Miranda only having lost her shoes to Billy in a hand where Billy got lucky and flopped three aces.
Liv smiles her perfectly lopsided smile and winks at the boys. "We'll have to do this again, sometime," she chuckles, entwining her arm with Miranda's.
*****
50. Little Amsterdam
And her best friend is a sun dress.
Dom/Hannah, R, 500 words
She buys it at a Salvation Army store just off Sunset. Gets a real bargain on it, too, only five dollars. It doesn't much matter to her that it's one size too small and several inches too short. In fact, that's pretty much exactly why she buys it.
She wears it to the barbeque that Elijah throws for Dom, some kind of strange farewell party in the yard next to the pool house. The guest list mostly consists of people that Elijah knows, because Dom hasn't exactly met a lot of people in the year that he's spent in Los Angeles. He's actually spent the majority of that time getting acquainted with the mattress in Elijah's spare bedroom, locked in there with the lights dimmed, only leaving for the occasional meal and to use the bathroom.
God knows, Hannah tried to get him out of that room. Long after even Elijah gave up, Hannah would stomp in there with her car keys in her hand and insist that Dom had to go to lunch with her. She'd sneak in silently and climb into bed with him, bumping her forehead up against his and staring at him until Dom woke with a start. She tried physically pulling him out of bed, but Dom was stronger and heavier than he looked, even in that state. She tried bribing him, tried yelling at him, tried seducing him. Nothing worked.
She's hoping that the little sun dress works. That is, after all, why she bought it. And even though Dom's actually out of bed, finally, Hannah feels unfulfilled.
That's probably why she finds herself bending over in front of Dom just a little too often to be subtle. It's probably also why she feels oddly gratified when, one time, she notices him biting his lip and staring at the exposed flesh of her upper thigh.
That expression is all Hannah needs to muster the confidence to corner Dom as he's making his way to the kitchen for more beer. She pats down her dress, feigning self-consciousness, and asks Dom if he likes it. He appraises her, his eyes lingering on her tanned legs just a little too long. She doesn't wait for his answer before she presses him against the side of the house and kisses him, grinding her hips against his crotch.
Dom catches her by the shoulders and, for a moment, Hannah worries that she's gone too far. But then Dom reaches down and grabs her ass through the dress, pressing her against his newfound erection. She looks up at him, and he's looking at her with an expression she never saw all those times in his room. She presses her lips against his again, and Dom opens his mouth, their tongues meeting in the middle and sliding over each other.
Hannah finally has to pull away to breathe, and Dom takes that moment to adjust himself. "Love the dress," Dom says, his eyes twinkling. Hannah hikes it up a little higher.
*****
51. Little Earthquakes
Good year for hunters and Christmas parties.
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
They've all exchanged presents, most of them silly gag gifts involving plastic penises of various sizes, some of which could light up. The party has been going on for the better part of three hours, and the booze is about to dry up when Viggo finds Orlando perched on the corner of Peter's couch, arguing animatedly with Elijah about the differences between American and British beers. Viggo stands next to them for a while, listening to them but not joining in, and when there's a lull in the conversation, he quietly puts a hand on the small of Orlando's back and makes an excuse for both of them. Orlando follows Viggo out to his car, and they ride home in comfortable silence.
When they get home, Orlando heads for the bedroom, eager to change out of his party clothes, but Viggo grabs him by the arm and drags him over to the couch. When Orlando looks at him quizzically, Viggo tells him to just sit for a second, then disappears into the bedroom.
Viggo eventually emerges, a small package in his hand. It's wrapped, somewhat sloppily, in what looks like hand-painted wrapping paper. Viggo sits down next to Orlando and hands him the gift.
"I thought the day-glo cock ring was my present," Orlando kids.
"No," Viggo answers, "that was my present. This is yours," he adds, gesturing for Orlando to open the package.
Orlando peels away the strips of tape that hold the wrapping together. He folds the paper into quarters, and then rips open the white box underneath.
Inside, Orlando discovers a book. It's hand-bound in a soft brown leather, and the front ties together with what looks like the unfinished ends of a shoelace. He unties it and flips the book open to the first page, which is blank. The paper is fine and grainy and smells vaguely of pine.
He looks up at Viggo, who takes the book out of Orlando's hands and flips through to the center, where he reveals a booklet of stamps.
"This is all going to end soon," Viggo explains, fingering the edges of the book. "I figured that this..." he hesitates, then continues, "would be the best way to keep in touch. Write whatever you want, and send it to me. I'll do the same and send it back to you." Viggo pauses to clear his throat. "So we don't lose touch," he finishes.
Orlando takes back the book, reaching over to grab a pen from the coffee table. He holds up the cover so that Viggo can't see and scrawls a word on the top of the first page, then closes the book and hands it back to Viggo.
Viggo glances down at the book and then up at Orlando, who nods. He opens the cover and reads the word Orlando has written, then closes it again and stands, holding out his hand. Orlando slides his own into it, and Viggo pulls him off the couch and into the bedroom.
*****
52. Lust
Is he real or a ghost-lie?
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words, sequel to Happy Phantom
Once they were properly introduced, Viggo learned Orlando's story. He'd been a student, studying to become an actor. He was only a teenager when he got a little too drunk at a party and climbed onto the roof in a moment of inspired enthusiasm, and began reciting a monologue. Before he could finish, he lost his balance and fell.. He died on impact.
In return, Viggo told Orlando how he'd come to live in England. He'd lost his wife and son in a car accident. He watched his son, Henry, die in the hospital, his estranged wife having been pronounced dead on the scene. That, on top of Viggo's failure in the publishing business, had driven him oversees, as far as he could get away from California, trying to escape his demons.
"Funny, then, that you should end up haunted," Orlando observed.
Orlando watched Viggo paint and asked him questions about his technique, about the colors that he used, about why he used oils instead of acrylics. Viggo answered all of Orlando's questions patiently, oddly appreciative of the company, even if that company was, at times, translucent. Orlando was careful to give Viggo his privacy, never intruding when Viggo needed time alone.
In return, Viggo engaged Orlando in conversation as frequently as he could. They talked about every subject, from theatre to religion, from comic books to punk rock. Orlando had something to say about everything, and Viggo found himself enjoying the afternoons he spent with his ghost, the two of them together at the kitchen table, Viggo sipping a cup of coffee.
Viggo even found himself forgetting that Orlando was dead. One afternoon, he poured Orlando a cup of coffee and set it down on the table in front of him before Orlando could remind him. They both had a laugh about that, although Orlando's laugh sounded bitter to Viggo's ears.
Similarly, Orlando found himself forgetting that he was dead. Viggo walked into his makeshift studio one afternoon to see Orlando reaching up to his latest painting as if to touch it before he remembered himself and dropped his hand back to his side.
Months ticked by like that, Viggo waking up mornings to find Orlando in the kitchen, days of easy conversation and Viggo reading books aloud for Orlando, Orlando reciting bits of plays that he remembered, to applause from Viggo.
Viggo eventually asked Orlando if he could paint him. Orlando laughed, asked him how he could paint a phantom. But Viggo insisted, and eventually Orlando acquiesced. Viggo painted him in vivid color, translating Orlando's image onto canvas as if he was solid.
When Viggo finished, he showed the painting to Orlando, who stared at it in silence for a very long time. So long, in fact, that Viggo worried he had offended Orlando, and was about to throw his drop cloth over it when Orlando finally spoke.
"You made me human again," he said.
Viggo looked his ghost in the eye. "Just returning the favor," he answered.
I know she's playing poker with the rest of the stragglers.
Gen (I know!), R, 500 words
They don't usually play strip poker, not the boys, because strip poker is a lot less fun when you're surrounded by men. But when Liv and Miranda show up at Elijah's front door with a case of beer in tow and propose a friendly game, none of the assembled men can resist.
Orlando is the first to lose his shirt, probably because he's already had two beers, and he's actually worse at playing poker than he is at holding his liquor. He puts on a bit of an impromptu strip tease, standing up and slowly unbuttoning while walking behind Liv and Miranda and awkwardly shaking his hips. The girls hoot and catcall, while the rest of the boys duck their heads, reluctant to display any interest in Orlando's shapely chest. When he's done, he tries to sit back down with as much dignity as he can muster, which is difficult when he nearly misses his chair.
Dom is the next one to lose, going up against Miranda with a pair of tens and taking a beating by her eights full of fives. He chooses to kick off his shoes, which garners a round of boos from everyone at the table, but especially Orlando, who flexes a bicep and calls Dom's manhood into question. Dom just glares at him and sits silently in his stocking feet.
Viggo loses two hands in a row, his shirt to Liv and his shoes to Miranda. With each losing hand, he unselfconsciously strips and then immediately turns back to the game, ignoring Orlando's pointed comparison of the amount of hair on their chests.
When Billy loses to Dom, he shamelessly strips his slacks off and twirls them over his head, much to the veiled enjoyment of just about everyone at the table, with the possible exception of Viggo, who is still rubbing absently at his own chest and plucking his fingers through the fine layer of hair that covers it.
Dom loses his jeans next, tossing them gracelessly onto the ever-growing pile of men's clothes that has collected in the corner of Elijah's kitchen. His jeans are followed by Elijah's shirt, which Billy immediately insists that he put back on because everyone at the table is blinded by the whiteness of his chest. Elijah pokes his tongue out at Billy and then wins his shirt in the next hand. Billy unabashedly strips it off and throws it at Elijah.
Two hours and the entire case of beer later, Billy and Dom are nearly naked. Billy still has his socks, while Dom has elected to keep his boxers. Orlando sits at the table in only a pair of white briefs, and Viggo is completely naked.
Both Liv and Miranda are still fully-clothed, Miranda only having lost her shoes to Billy in a hand where Billy got lucky and flopped three aces.
Liv smiles her perfectly lopsided smile and winks at the boys. "We'll have to do this again, sometime," she chuckles, entwining her arm with Miranda's.
*****
50. Little Amsterdam
And her best friend is a sun dress.
Dom/Hannah, R, 500 words
She buys it at a Salvation Army store just off Sunset. Gets a real bargain on it, too, only five dollars. It doesn't much matter to her that it's one size too small and several inches too short. In fact, that's pretty much exactly why she buys it.
She wears it to the barbeque that Elijah throws for Dom, some kind of strange farewell party in the yard next to the pool house. The guest list mostly consists of people that Elijah knows, because Dom hasn't exactly met a lot of people in the year that he's spent in Los Angeles. He's actually spent the majority of that time getting acquainted with the mattress in Elijah's spare bedroom, locked in there with the lights dimmed, only leaving for the occasional meal and to use the bathroom.
God knows, Hannah tried to get him out of that room. Long after even Elijah gave up, Hannah would stomp in there with her car keys in her hand and insist that Dom had to go to lunch with her. She'd sneak in silently and climb into bed with him, bumping her forehead up against his and staring at him until Dom woke with a start. She tried physically pulling him out of bed, but Dom was stronger and heavier than he looked, even in that state. She tried bribing him, tried yelling at him, tried seducing him. Nothing worked.
She's hoping that the little sun dress works. That is, after all, why she bought it. And even though Dom's actually out of bed, finally, Hannah feels unfulfilled.
That's probably why she finds herself bending over in front of Dom just a little too often to be subtle. It's probably also why she feels oddly gratified when, one time, she notices him biting his lip and staring at the exposed flesh of her upper thigh.
That expression is all Hannah needs to muster the confidence to corner Dom as he's making his way to the kitchen for more beer. She pats down her dress, feigning self-consciousness, and asks Dom if he likes it. He appraises her, his eyes lingering on her tanned legs just a little too long. She doesn't wait for his answer before she presses him against the side of the house and kisses him, grinding her hips against his crotch.
Dom catches her by the shoulders and, for a moment, Hannah worries that she's gone too far. But then Dom reaches down and grabs her ass through the dress, pressing her against his newfound erection. She looks up at him, and he's looking at her with an expression she never saw all those times in his room. She presses her lips against his again, and Dom opens his mouth, their tongues meeting in the middle and sliding over each other.
Hannah finally has to pull away to breathe, and Dom takes that moment to adjust himself. "Love the dress," Dom says, his eyes twinkling. Hannah hikes it up a little higher.
*****
51. Little Earthquakes
Good year for hunters and Christmas parties.
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words
They've all exchanged presents, most of them silly gag gifts involving plastic penises of various sizes, some of which could light up. The party has been going on for the better part of three hours, and the booze is about to dry up when Viggo finds Orlando perched on the corner of Peter's couch, arguing animatedly with Elijah about the differences between American and British beers. Viggo stands next to them for a while, listening to them but not joining in, and when there's a lull in the conversation, he quietly puts a hand on the small of Orlando's back and makes an excuse for both of them. Orlando follows Viggo out to his car, and they ride home in comfortable silence.
When they get home, Orlando heads for the bedroom, eager to change out of his party clothes, but Viggo grabs him by the arm and drags him over to the couch. When Orlando looks at him quizzically, Viggo tells him to just sit for a second, then disappears into the bedroom.
Viggo eventually emerges, a small package in his hand. It's wrapped, somewhat sloppily, in what looks like hand-painted wrapping paper. Viggo sits down next to Orlando and hands him the gift.
"I thought the day-glo cock ring was my present," Orlando kids.
"No," Viggo answers, "that was my present. This is yours," he adds, gesturing for Orlando to open the package.
Orlando peels away the strips of tape that hold the wrapping together. He folds the paper into quarters, and then rips open the white box underneath.
Inside, Orlando discovers a book. It's hand-bound in a soft brown leather, and the front ties together with what looks like the unfinished ends of a shoelace. He unties it and flips the book open to the first page, which is blank. The paper is fine and grainy and smells vaguely of pine.
He looks up at Viggo, who takes the book out of Orlando's hands and flips through to the center, where he reveals a booklet of stamps.
"This is all going to end soon," Viggo explains, fingering the edges of the book. "I figured that this..." he hesitates, then continues, "would be the best way to keep in touch. Write whatever you want, and send it to me. I'll do the same and send it back to you." Viggo pauses to clear his throat. "So we don't lose touch," he finishes.
Orlando takes back the book, reaching over to grab a pen from the coffee table. He holds up the cover so that Viggo can't see and scrawls a word on the top of the first page, then closes the book and hands it back to Viggo.
Viggo glances down at the book and then up at Orlando, who nods. He opens the cover and reads the word Orlando has written, then closes it again and stands, holding out his hand. Orlando slides his own into it, and Viggo pulls him off the couch and into the bedroom.
*****
52. Lust
Is he real or a ghost-lie?
Viggo/Orlando, PG, 500 words, sequel to Happy Phantom
Once they were properly introduced, Viggo learned Orlando's story. He'd been a student, studying to become an actor. He was only a teenager when he got a little too drunk at a party and climbed onto the roof in a moment of inspired enthusiasm, and began reciting a monologue. Before he could finish, he lost his balance and fell.. He died on impact.
In return, Viggo told Orlando how he'd come to live in England. He'd lost his wife and son in a car accident. He watched his son, Henry, die in the hospital, his estranged wife having been pronounced dead on the scene. That, on top of Viggo's failure in the publishing business, had driven him oversees, as far as he could get away from California, trying to escape his demons.
"Funny, then, that you should end up haunted," Orlando observed.
Orlando watched Viggo paint and asked him questions about his technique, about the colors that he used, about why he used oils instead of acrylics. Viggo answered all of Orlando's questions patiently, oddly appreciative of the company, even if that company was, at times, translucent. Orlando was careful to give Viggo his privacy, never intruding when Viggo needed time alone.
In return, Viggo engaged Orlando in conversation as frequently as he could. They talked about every subject, from theatre to religion, from comic books to punk rock. Orlando had something to say about everything, and Viggo found himself enjoying the afternoons he spent with his ghost, the two of them together at the kitchen table, Viggo sipping a cup of coffee.
Viggo even found himself forgetting that Orlando was dead. One afternoon, he poured Orlando a cup of coffee and set it down on the table in front of him before Orlando could remind him. They both had a laugh about that, although Orlando's laugh sounded bitter to Viggo's ears.
Similarly, Orlando found himself forgetting that he was dead. Viggo walked into his makeshift studio one afternoon to see Orlando reaching up to his latest painting as if to touch it before he remembered himself and dropped his hand back to his side.
Months ticked by like that, Viggo waking up mornings to find Orlando in the kitchen, days of easy conversation and Viggo reading books aloud for Orlando, Orlando reciting bits of plays that he remembered, to applause from Viggo.
Viggo eventually asked Orlando if he could paint him. Orlando laughed, asked him how he could paint a phantom. But Viggo insisted, and eventually Orlando acquiesced. Viggo painted him in vivid color, translating Orlando's image onto canvas as if he was solid.
When Viggo finished, he showed the painting to Orlando, who stared at it in silence for a very long time. So long, in fact, that Viggo worried he had offended Orlando, and was about to throw his drop cloth over it when Orlando finally spoke.
"You made me human again," he said.
Viggo looked his ghost in the eye. "Just returning the favor," he answered.