stripped down to the bone -- noah

[ANNIE COLLEEN MILLER]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] let me see you stripped down to the bone come with me into the trees we'll lay on the grass and let the hours pass take my hand come back to the land let's get away just for one day let me see you stripped down to the bone let me see you stripped down to the bone metropolis has nothing on this you're breathing in fumes i taste when we kiss take my hand come back to the land where everything's ours for a few hours let me hear you make decisions without your television - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - let me hear you speaking just for me It was a beautiful summer evening, and the streets of Miami had started to turn from being full of tourists to being full of partiers on the prowl. There were crowds of them, young men and women and boys and girls, all dolled up, laughing, swarming in one direction – towards downtown. Annie Miller struggled through them down the length of the boardwalk, heading in the opposite direction. She cut a lonely silhouette against the pink sky – a small figure, hunched at the shoulders with her head down, swinging a heavy plastic bag from one hand. The chink of bottles followed her, sounding musically whenever she took a step. It had been a long day. A long shift at work, serving greasy cheeseburgers and other forms of heart attacks to tourists. It had been a hot day, and she felt unclean – that horrible feeling of cold sweat stuck in the crooks of her elbows, and glistening on her exposed collar bone. And when she’d finished her shift, standing outside the diner to have the long awaited post-work smoke, she’d discovered her father had been leaving her angry voice mail messages all throughout the day: “What have you done with my booze, you little bitch? I know it was you. What did I tell you about thieving from your own daddy? You better replace what you took or I swear I’m gonna sort you out good…” Annie had taken none of his booze. He’d probably drunk it himself and forgotten – as he was prone to do. And as for ‘sorting her out’, he would never do that. Never raise a hand to her. But he was an old drunk, set in his ways, and alcohol withdrawal made him mean and cruel, and willing to say things he wouldn’t usually. It was by far better when he was drunk, so she’d stopped in at the liquor store on the way home and picked up three bottles of whisky. It ought to see him through to the weekend, but it was unlikely to go any further. Although the clerks knew how old she was – she’d been going there for years – she didn’t get challenged for ID. She was underage, sure, but she was also one of their best customers and they’d be a fool to turn her away. Psychologists called this shit enabling. That’s what a school guidance counsellor had told her once, after her daddy had showed up to a parent-teacher conference blind drunk and made a fool of himself. They’d started arranging meetings with her, then. Asking her things like: “Is your father always drunk? Is there anyone else in the home, or just you and him? Who takes care of you when he’s like that?” Etcetera, ad infinitum, ad nauseum. In the end, they’d just told her to stop buying him booze, because it was called enabling, because she was enabling his destructive habits. She’d just nodded, said “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I won’t do it anymore.” But she’d never stopped. Life was a lot more peaceful when he was drunk, and she hated to see what the withdrawal did to him – making him so bitter, so angry, sometimes driving him to the point of hallucinations or attempts to hurt himself. It was just easier this way. So after the quick stop at the liquor store, she’d emerged back into the humid evening, gripping her plastic bag of chinking bottles and started in the direction of the family home. Now she was stopping off to see her father, she probably wouldn’t get back to her own apartment until late. Even if she literally just dropped off the whisky and ran, it’d still take her damn near an hour to double back on herself and make it back downtown. And by that time, the streets would already be paved with drunks. She was dreading walking through that. A wolf whistle split the air somewhere nearby, and instinctively Annie cringed away from the noise. Whether it was directed at her or not, she still hated the sound. She pulled her light cardigan self-consciously closed over her work clothes – cut off’s and a tank top bearing the diner logo (because whoever had designed it had surely been a pervert) – and dipped her head down further, until she could barely see where she was going. Miami nights – she hated them. ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY DEPECHE MODE

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[NOAH JUDE BENNETT]

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] Noah had decided to skip the drinking tonight. A group of some of his college friends had tried to peer-pressure him into getting hammered with them and club hop down at the boardwalk, but Noah had brushed them off. He missed the water. It was weird, but he had this thing with the water. He loved it; swimming, surfing, and even the smell of the ocean. He had always loved the water. He guessed it ran in the family, because most of his siblings shared that same interest. When they were kids, it was nearly impossible for their mother to keep them out of the water, away from the beach, and in school. It was the only real thing that Noah was passionate about in life. Yeah, he was enrolled in classes at the University of Miami, but he would much rather spend every waking moment down here, where he was right now. He hadn't exactly been making time lately, with all the drinking and clubbing he had been doing, he decided tonight was time for a break. He sat on his surfboard; the light motion of the water rocked him back and forth. It was soothing, relaxing, and made Noah wonder why he hadn’t taken a night off from drinking sooner. He had spent most of the afternoon at the beach, riding the small waves by himself, even until the sun had started to set. He didn’t need other people or daylight to enjoy the beach. The water had slowly started to calm, so Noah decided to call it a night. He paddles himself to shore and dragged his board onto the sand, where he had left his stuff in a sloppy pile. He dropped his board next to it and reached down for his towel, aggressively running it across his wet body and sopping hair. He slid his t-shirt over his head gathered his stuff, quickly shoving it into the backpack he had brought. He threw the bag over his shoulder, tucked his surfboard under his arm, and made his way to the parking lot where his beat-up Jetta was parked. He unlocked the driver’s side door, tossed his bag into the backseat, and retrieved the tie-straps that sat in the passenger’s seat. He carelessly strapped his surfboard to the roof of his car, closed the car door, and re-locked them. Glancing over his shoulder in the direction of the boardwalk, he got glimpse of the crowds of people that were waiting in lines outside the bars. He wondered what his friends were doing right now and how hard it would be to find them. He trusted his car and surfboard would be fine while he ran down to catch up with them for a drink or two. He dropped his keys into the pocket of his wet board shorts and jogged toward the boardwalk. He strolled down the wooden walk, nodding and waving at people he recognized by face. As he got closer and closer, the crowds seemed to get larger and harder to push through. He decided if he didn’t run into his friends soon, he was going to give up and return to his car. He got tired of pretending to know the people waving at him, so he focused his gaze on his feet as he quickly moved through the people. He was moving quite fast, when he thought he heard one of his friends call out his name. He glanced up, just as he bumped into a girl walking the opposite direction. “Um, sorry,” he mumbled, kneeling down to pick up his cell phone that had fallen when he crashed into her. He frowned as he scooped up the battery and the backing that had popped apart. He glanced up at her as he moved to his feet; she looked painstakingly familiar. He opened his mouth to apologize again, when it clued in. “Wait, you’re that internet stripper.” He never had been the most tactful person. [/style]

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[ANNIE COLLEEN MILLER]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] let me see you stripped down to the bone come with me into the trees we'll lay on the grass and let the hours pass take my hand come back to the land let's get away just for one day let me see you stripped down to the bone let me see you stripped down to the bone metropolis has nothing on this you're breathing in fumes i taste when we kiss take my hand come back to the land where everything's ours for a few hours let me hear you make decisions without your television - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - let me hear you speaking just for me Thump. Sudden, violent impact with something solid and strong. A someone. She stumbled backwards a couple of steps, the bag of bottles jingling a staccato of tinkling notes. The man she’d walked into apologised half-heartedly, but seemed more interested in retrieving his phone – which seemed to have shattered on impact with the ground. The battery had landed nearby her foot, and irritation and spite gave her the momentary urge to kick it away, out of his reach. She didn’t. She was not that rude. But she did murmur back, each word stabbed through with aggression: “Watch where in the Hell you’re going.” Her hand went to the bag of whisky bottles, her fingers probing right down to the bottom, making sure no leaks had sprung up. Did this kid have any idea how expensive this poison was? She couldn’t afford to go back and get another bottle if one of them had broken, and she definitely couldn’t afford to head back to her father’s house with a less than adequate supply of liquor. Luckily everything still felt in tact, and she withdrew her hand from the bottle, shoulders slumping with relief. The boy was getting back to his feet. Instinctively, warily, she looked him over. Making sure she didn’t know him now she’d gone and blurted out something unpleasant. She didn’t. He was a stranger. He was also wet. What sort of bizarre club had this idiot come stumbling out of? Or maybe he’d actually come up from the beach, but at this time of night, most people were swarming in and out of bars. When the sun wasn’t shining, very few people seemed to have any interest in the beaches. “Wait, you’re that internet stripper.” Annie froze, shoulders immediately tensing and rising into a defensive position. “Internet what?” She replied tersely, but she could feel herself flushing red. Feel her own blush betraying her. No point playing dumb. She couldn’t lie anyway. She glanced at the boy, then quickly away again. At his face. Pictured him in some dingy room somewhere, sat at a computer, watching her … and felt ill. Ugh. Felt naked, vulnerable, bare right down to the core. This was not something that was supposed to happen. The point of stripping on the internet was a) good money, and b) that sense of detachment. God never intended for internet strippers to meet their clients in real life. God was not that cruel. “Think you have me confused with someone else.” She mumbled now. Her face was so red she could feel her skin throbbing, literally pulsing with embarrassment. Oh God. Maybe she should run before this could get any more awkward… just barrel past him and disappear into the crowd. He wouldn’t follow her: why would he want to? And she was sure she could get away. But shame glued her to the spot, held her still. And hey, maybe he’d buy her denial, and she could continue on her merry way with her dignity still in tact. ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY DEPECHE MODE

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[NOAH JUDE BENNETT]

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] Noah paid attention to putting the pieces of his cell phone back together, ignoring the girl’s icy “Watch where in the hell you’re going.” He smirked at the rude comment. Noah was used to rude comments; he was used to all that stuff. He glanced back up at her and watched her feel around with her bottles. He couldn’t help but think of his own father, the exact father who was off in jail somewhere for possession of meth. He wondered if she had a father like that, but shook that idea quickly. There were no way other people, other people that he had actually crashed into, had anywhere near the same life that he did. Once he had stared at her long enough, he could have sworn he had remembered seeing her face in something his friends had subscribed to on the internet. He had blurted it out. He knew he sounded rude and tactless –he was rude and tactless, but he had already said it now. She looked tense and defensive, which made Noah think that he had been right. “Internet what?” she had replied. Noah shrugged loosely; maybe he had been wrong. In the streetlight of the boardwalk, Noah thought he could see a hint of blush flood her cheeks, making Noah’s assumption grow. But she had denied it. “Think you have me confused with someone else.” Her face looked a slide shade redder as she mumbled. Noah pushed his hands in his pockets, pressing his lips together. He nodded slowly, unsure of what to say next. “Maybe you’re right,” he answered, though he was pretty sure he was right. He suddenly realized how perverted he had sounded. Internet stripper or not, he had still accused her of being one. He pulled his hands out of his pockets. “Not that I’ve ever, paid to watch you, or any internet stripper,” he blurted out. He was getting quite nervous, unable to explain himself. “You just look oddly like this girl a few of my friends have, um, subscribed to.” He knew that he wasn’t making matters any better, so he stopped talking. Maybe he should have walked away just then, but she was a pretty girl. Noah definitely had a slight attraction to her. His chances were certainly blown at this point. He wondered how far she was walking with those bottles of liquor, unsure of how much more awkward the situation would get if he offered her a ride home. He had been turned down in worse situations so he finally blurted it out. “I have a car,” he stated, pulling his car keys out as proof, “if you have very far to go, I could give you a ride.” He shrugged at the end of his offer, already guessing that the answer would be no. After all, they were both complete strangers. It was getting late out and Noah knew he looked like an absolute perv, attacking her with assumptions of being an internet stripper. He actually felt himself blushing now. [/style]

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[style=width: 450px; background: #CCC; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px]template by sophia.

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[ANNIE COLLEEN MILLER]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] let me see you stripped down to the bone come with me into the trees we'll lay on the grass and let the hours pass take my hand come back to the land let's get away just for one day let me see you stripped down to the bone let me see you stripped down to the bone metropolis has nothing on this you're breathing in fumes i taste when we kiss take my hand come back to the land where everything's ours for a few hours let me hear you make decisions without your television - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - let me hear you speaking just for me “Maybe you’re right.” He said, but he didn’t sound sure. Stupid boy was too smart for his own good. He knows trash when he sees it, Annie thought, ducking her head uncomfortably, examining the ground just so she didn’t have to look at him. She should have run off when she had the chance. Run as far and fast as she could, until the swaths of people milling about on the boardwalk blocked her from him. He’d never find her. She’d never run into him again. Miami was too big and too full of people for this chance encounter to repeat itself – and thank God for that. “Not that I’ve ever paid to watch you, or any internet stripper. You just look oddly like this girl a few of my friends have, um, subscribed to.” He added hastily, sounding nervous, unsure. She laughed – a sudden anxious laugh without much real amusement in it. She found he didn’t believe his denial any more than he had believed hers. He was a pervert, fine. Good. It was a good thing there were perverts in the world or she wouldn’t be able to pay her rent. “What you do in your own time ain’t none of my business. I don’t care if you’ve seen a million strippers.” She shrugged, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. Touching her hair had always been a nervous habit. All of a sudden, he was dangling his car keys in front of her, declaring: “I have a car”, offering to give her a ride. Annie was tempted. Ridiculously tempted. It had been such a long day. She was hot and tired and her feet hurt, the bag straps were cutting into her hand like wire, it was still a twenty minute walk to her father’s house, and she still had to save the energy to trek all the way back to her own apartment afterwards. She started to nod – then cut herself short, and eyed him warily. Why would he offer her a ride anyway? Why would you approach a stranger, accuse them of being a stripper (rightly or wrongly – that didn’t matter) and then try and drive them somewhere? He probably was a pervert. He was probably a serial killer. “Why?” She demanded suspiciously. “So you can drive me out somewhere in the middle of nowhere, strangle me and have sex with my corpse? They warn girls about situations like this, y’know.” Well, not exactly like this. And she was pretty sure you were just supposed to excuse yourself and leave, go somewhere crowded, if some strange potential pervert came up to you and offered you a ride someplace. You’re probably not supposed to accuse said stranger of being a murderer and a necrophiliac. That’s just rude, even if it might be true. “Sorry,” She blurted out almost immediately. “I don’t know why I said that.” ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY DEPECHE MODE

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[NOAH JUDE BENNETT]

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=width: 250px; height: 290px; padding: 0px 5px 0px 5px; font-family: calibri; font-size: 11px; text-align:justify; color: #333; line-height: 99%; overflow: auto] She laughed. Immediately, Noah knew she was laughing at how stupid and nervous he sounded. He was stupid and nervous, he wasn’t quite sure why he had just ran into a stranger and started asking questions about her being a stripper. He was surprised she hadn’t wound up and slapped him one good. He had been slapped by women before, most who disagreed with his tactlessness; others because he had tried to pick them up really drunk. He scratched the back of his neck, shrugging his shoulders. ”What you do in your own time ain’t none of my business. I don’t care if you’ve seen a million strippers.” she shrugged. This made Noah laugh, a short ha escaped from his lips. He averted his gaze to the people that were swarming around them, each group drunker than the other. Had he been drunk tonight, this scenario may not have happened. It was even stupider of him to have offered her a ride. It had looked like she may accept his offer, in which maybe things would turn up in the end. She had started to nod, until she stooped suddenly, eyeing him warily. His eyes widened, preparing for a slap or something along those lines. She sounded suspicious when she spoke next; something escaped her lips about Noah being driving her to the middle of nowhere to kill and rape her. He couldn’t help but laugh at her absurd accusation. He understood where she was coming from, considering they didn’t know a thing about each other. ”Yeah, I do suppose you’re right,” he stated, dropping the car keys back into his pocket. Then she apologized. He nodded, ”No big deal, I guess I’ve been called worse than a killing necrophilia.” He didn’t know why he was cracking jokes right now, because it only made him feel more awkward about this whole situation. The next group of people that squeezed past them bumped Noah’s shoulder, and Noah uttered out a quick, quiet apology. ”Well, I suppose if you would rather walk, I’ll just be on my way then.” he stated, no intention of actually being on his way. He hoped she would change her mind about the car ride, but if she didn’t, maybe he would offer to walk her. After all, what better did he have to do with his life; certainly not anything more exciting than meeting a stranger, accusing her of being a stripper, and then offering her a ride home. No wonder she seemed so wary about him. ”Oh, my name’s Noah, by the way,” he quickly added, unsure why. [/style]

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[style=width: 450px; background: #CCC; font-size: 8px; text-transform: uppercase; color: #000; letter-spacing: 1px]template by sophia.

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[ANNIE COLLEEN MILLER]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, border-radius: 2em; -moz-border-radius: 2em; background-image:url(http://i54.tinypic.com/14e9a45.jpg), width: 400px; height: 400px;] let me see you stripped down to the bone come with me into the trees we'll lay on the grass and let the hours pass take my hand come back to the land let's get away just for one day let me see you stripped down to the bone let me see you stripped down to the bone metropolis has nothing on this you're breathing in fumes i taste when we kiss take my hand come back to the land where everything's ours for a few hours let me hear you make decisions without your television - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - let me hear you speaking just for me He laughed. She wasn’t sure if this was a good sign or not. If you accuse someone of being a murderer and they laugh at you, does that mean they are and they’re trying to hide it? Or… what? Oh well. The thing that struck her most was the fact that he had a nice laugh. She hadn’t really thought much of him except that he was a thoroughly average-looking creep, but… the laughter suited him. The surprised amusement on his face was pleasant. Not ridiculously attractive or anything, but pleasant. He was still a creep, though. “You’ve been called worse?” She raised an eyebrow in challenge. Were there worse things to be called? If there were, she really needed to know about it. She hadn’t been intending to insult him – the accusation had just slipped out – but who knew? In the future she might really need a strong, worse then ‘you’re a necrophiliac serial killer’ insult for someone. “Like what? ‘Cos I’m pretty sure ‘murderer’ is as low as it gets, in terms of character slurs.” “Well I suppose if you would rather walk, I’ll just be on my way then.” He said. Annie nodded. A moment passed, with him not making any move to leave, so she added quickly: “Well, I didn’t say that. I mean. If you’re – If you really have nothing better to do than give a stranger a ride –” She paused, shrugged, trailed off for a second before picking up again. “I mean, if you are gonna rape and kill me, I’m kinda too exhausted to care right this minute.” Oh God, why couldn’t she stop talking about rape and murderer? Maybe she was the creep. She was probably freaking him out. “Oh, my name’s Noah, by the way.” He said, and she nodded again. Filing the information away. Creepy Noah. She had a brief internal debate about whether to respond in kind or not. He probably already knew her name. She was pretty sure it was up on the website. But to confirm that would also be to confirm that she was… well, a stripper. Hell, he already knew she was anyway. “I’m Annie. You… probably already knew that, though, I guess.” ♥ ♥ ♥ template by hay shay ! @ caution 2.0 LYRICS BY DEPECHE MODE

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