- Posting Speed
- Speed of Light
- 1-3 posts per day
- One post per day
- 1-3 posts per week
- Online Availability
- Online at weird times.
- Writing Levels
- Advanced
- Prestige
- Adaptable
- Preferred Character Gender
- Male
- Female
- Genres
- Slice of Life / Fantasy / Sci-Fi / FxF / Romance / Anime / Cyberpunk / Post-Apocalyptic / Historical (Medieval + Victorian, etc.) / Modern / Vampire / Action / Psychological Horror / Suspense / Incest / Fandom / Action / Mystery / High School
Adrian gaped at her, listening to her girly whines as his eyes drooped down halfway, his head felt like flying to the effects of the alcohol kicking in. "You are pathetic." he concluded quietly, shaking his head. Why was he even listening to this? If he were just anymore sane, he'd never. But they were, sulking and complaining about their miseries. Funny how the world works at times."
"You... You don't see me fucking stripping, just to be wanted." he pointed out to her, rolling his eyes. "To be wanted, is just a temporary... Psychological satisfaction. To sell yourself that way, doesn't gain you the kind of 'want' you want. Because... You only get it when you put on a show."
It was indeed stupid, so that's why strippers and dancers do their job. The feeling of being wanted, lusted, gave them self-esteem. Sure, it felt good -- they feel sexy, they were sexy, but lust was just... lust. "Maybe you don't love him then," he said after a moment, taking another shot of the vodka, swallowing it's bitter and flaming sensations down his throat, "Because, if you did. You won't look at anyone else -- even the slightest."
But the he knew she wouldn't get what he was trying to point out.
This was probably the alcohol driving him, or his head was just messed. He turned towards her, his face -- basically his whole body was turned towards her, "Kiss me." he said bluntly, looking her in the eyes, "Just do it, let's check how much he means to you. You can stop or refuse if feel uncomfortable, or if you're not feeling it."
In his head, a small grain of sanity sat at the back of his head and asked him: What the hell are you doing? In all honesty? He had no idea. But a gut feeling told him that he was going to regret this later -- big time.
"You... You don't see me fucking stripping, just to be wanted." he pointed out to her, rolling his eyes. "To be wanted, is just a temporary... Psychological satisfaction. To sell yourself that way, doesn't gain you the kind of 'want' you want. Because... You only get it when you put on a show."
It was indeed stupid, so that's why strippers and dancers do their job. The feeling of being wanted, lusted, gave them self-esteem. Sure, it felt good -- they feel sexy, they were sexy, but lust was just... lust. "Maybe you don't love him then," he said after a moment, taking another shot of the vodka, swallowing it's bitter and flaming sensations down his throat, "Because, if you did. You won't look at anyone else -- even the slightest."
But the he knew she wouldn't get what he was trying to point out.
This was probably the alcohol driving him, or his head was just messed. He turned towards her, his face -- basically his whole body was turned towards her, "Kiss me." he said bluntly, looking her in the eyes, "Just do it, let's check how much he means to you. You can stop or refuse if feel uncomfortable, or if you're not feeling it."
In his head, a small grain of sanity sat at the back of his head and asked him: What the hell are you doing? In all honesty? He had no idea. But a gut feeling told him that he was going to regret this later -- big time.