I had a lovely walk at the mall this morning with my friend Dusty, and then we went to JoAnn's to find fabric because she's going to make me a purse. Isn't that cool? After lunch I mowed the front yards to get the last of the leaves chopped up and on the curb for the leaf picker-uppers. See, tomorrow is trash day and the trash guys are the ones who tell the leaf guys where to go. Pretty slick, eh?
I'm so happy with my story this month and how it's going. I've been able to nearly silence my innerHitler, I just appease her with a little spellchek once I'm done for the day and she pretty much leaves me alone. I've been promising her that she can come out of her jar and "help" me with the rewrite later. Yeah, like that'll happen. Here's today's tidbit:
I went upstairs to check and make sure than Silas and Edward had closed and locked all the doors and windows up there too. Each of the rooms had access to the gallery that ran the width of the hotel and it would be very easy for someone young and determined to hoist himself up and get in. Iggy was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs in the suddenly stuffy and close lobby sitting room. I thought he looked pretty sexy for an older guy in his faded soft blue jeans and his washed a hundred times tee shirt, but I would bite off my tongue before I said so. He had always held himself with such dignity and been so polite and proper; I was sure he had no interest whatsoever in an American widow who was frittering away her inheritance on a dream. When I reached the bottom step he did not move. In order to step down onto the floor I would be standing right in front of him, close enough to smell the warm, salty sweat of his labors that day. I looked up at him. “Iggy…?” His hands came up and cupped my jaw; his eyes drilled into mine, and his lips, oh his soft sensuous lips the color of the sweetest of ripe plums descended on mine. “Oh,” I inhaled his kiss, his breath, and my hands rose to find his head and hold it, to hold that kiss for as long as I could. He eased away, planting a dozen tiny kisses on my face and back on my lips. “You are not angry?” he asked. I could barely think because his lips brushed mine as he spoke, setting off explosions of electricity that made answering difficult. “Angry? For what?” My hands were still up in his soft hair feeling the ropy strength of his perfectly shaped head. “I was just trying to decide how I could kiss you without offending you myself. I am very glad that you took the initiative.” I pulled his lips back to mine and felt him tremble as our lips met again.
Daily count: 1695 words
Total count: 30,024 words
Ooh, kissing!
--Barbara
No comments:
Post a Comment