He told me they were called " Shit kickers" I told him I didn't care what they were called they were ugly. Actually I said they were fucking ugly and needed a  good spit shine. I may or may not of offered to spit on them. He laughed at my blunt honesty.

He said " Your brutal"

 I winced at the words and hid my wince by sipping on my cocktail. His eyes watched my movements curiously, probably waiting for a playful defense.

He said " Do you always go up to strangers and insult them?" 

I decied to play along. I said " Only ones with bad fashion sense"

He laughed again and said " All this leather protects this pathetic hide"

He wasn't joking. Even though he was laughing. He thought he was pathetic. He was too good looking to be pathetic. Too good looking to ever think he was pathetic. Half the women were stripping him with their eyes and the other half were past the mental stripping and on to the forplay. What did he have to worry about? Maybe looking a little too scary in all that leather. A cotton t-shirt would solve that. Not a white one though. Maybe green. Green v-neck with a necklace. Perfect. Sexy and unexpected with leather pants and shit kickers.

" I don't think your pathetic" I said

He shrugged his shoulders said " You don't really know me"

" What's your name?" I asked

" People call me ' The Fade' . Do you still want to know me?" He asked

He leaned in taunting me. Like a whore flaunting her wares and me without a penny to pay. He showed me all I couldn't have.

I nodded my head. I didn't care if they called him late for supper. I had to get to know him. I wasn't a flirt. I didn't go to the bars to meet men. But some how my body with out my permisson walked accross the dancefloor. I tapped him on the shoulder and asked him about his boots. I was flirting. I don't flirt. I watch people flirt and wish that I was that person.

I had to have him .I didn't care that I was a non descript  make- up sales girl with student loan and hair that never obeyed. All that mattered was getting lost in his blue eyes.

" People call me Raccoon ,cause of the eye make-up"

" Raccoon, are you sucicidal?"

I was a little taken aback by the question. If I was drinking I probably would of choked it back up all over him. As it was I was choking on my saliva. He gave my back a good thump.

" What the fuck?" Was all I managed to say. What I meant to say is why would you say that or think that.

" I was just wondering why your hanging around a character like me"

" I was always a fan of the village people" I shot back

He laughs again I start noticing that there is a cruel edge to it. I like it. It's dark sexy. I'd like to hear it in my ear, on my skin.

" Do you believe in vampires Raccoon?"

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I wanted to write a romance story where the heroine did not have a low self esteem or bad body image. Too many books have the male character constantly reassuring the female that she is pretty etc. My character is clearly flawed but loves herself anyway. She doesn't care that there may or may not be pretty girls out there. She says here I am, Take me as I am or don't I ,don't give a *^*^.

updated Oct 26, 2008 by bluejay