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Post by Cayla on Jan 26, 2013 1:38:46 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina was reading her magazine when she finally heard a knock on the door.
" Hello? " Marina was asked, but she knew exactly who it was. She saw his head peer in sheepishly and take a look around.
"Come on in, " she said gesturing to her room.
"Welcome to my...home. Care for a tour?" Marina led Russell from each room and especially tried not to brag.
Firstly, she took Russell into her small kitchen equipped with a double oven, chrome fridge, and marble counter tops. With all the fancy utilities, you would think someone like Marina would cook, but she hardly did. Then she proceeded to show him her bedroom, which was covered in furry pink wallpaper and had modern style furniture. She didn't have any photos of family lying around. In the corner of her room was a small gray door. It led to her dining room sized closet, but she didn't show Russell inside. She didn't him to see that she had miscellaneous clothes and undergarments covering the base of the closet floor. How embarrassing. She quickly pulled Russell out of the room before he could catch attention and ask about the door.
After the tour, Marina took Russell into her main room and sat on the couch. "What do you think?" Marina asked.
She scooted a bit closer to Russell. She had her legs crossed and her hands lightly placed on top of her knees. She looked through Russell's beautiful blue eyes. She could see that there was some sort of pain or confusion in his life, but she could also tell he wasn't sure sure what the hell he was doing here with her. He probably had a girlfriend of his own and was maybe more suited then Marina. If he did, why would he be here?
She was going to let Russell speak, but she cut him off again, "Do you have a girlfriend?" she asked. That wasn't what she wanted to say, but it was what her mind was wondering. "I mean, a nice and good looking guy would have a girl and.... Never mind. You don't need to answer. Want anything....not alcoholic, to drink?"
She started to get up, but then she sat back down and decided to be a good listener and not walk away. She locked in on eye contact.
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Post by Samantha on Jan 26, 2013 3:52:38 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell followed Marina around the penthouse, eyes roaming but mouth firmly pressed shut. He allowed her to talk and to point out all of the items that were, individually, probably worth more than his car. He tried not to be judgmental, he really did. He tried to be open-minded—to understand that this was the type of life that she had probably grown up living, the life that she was accustomed to, and that in showing it off to him she didn't mean any harm.
He wished that he could have seen it from her point of view, but all he could think about was his apartment, a shoebox in comparison to her penthouse. Would he ever be able to invite her to his place without feeling so inadequate, so small? What if she looked at the overly-crowded living room—the armchair that no longer closed, the cardboard boxes and the dusty old books—and decided that he wasn't good enough for her? What was worse, he knew, was that even if she could accept it, he wasn't entirely sure that he would be able to.
She led him into her bedroom. He was surprised—not by the fact that her room was done up almost entirely in the color pink, but by the fact that she didn't at all seem bothered by the fact that he, a man, was standing there in the doorway of her bedroom, looking at all of her most personal belongings. She struck him as so innocent until she took the bull by the horns like this. He liked it. He wondered if she would also prove him wrong in other ways, too.
When they returned the living room, she invited him to sit down on the couch. She sat, too, scooting close to him. He felt her thigh brush against his, and he nearly flinched. He didn't know what it was about Marina—for when it came to other women, he certainly had no qualms about physical contact—but around her, he felt acutely aware of every single one of his actions. It was as though he felt forever on the verge of making a wrong move, or else offending her in some other way.
He wasn't expecting her to bring up his relationship status. Between the two of them, it seemed to him more likely that she would be the one with the boyfriend. He could picture it: her polo-wearing, yacht-sailing, skinnier-than-a-twig boyfriend. He probably preferred martinis over scotch, too.
And because he wasn't expecting it, he was momentarily thrown by the forwardness of the question. He started to chuckle nervously. "Actually," he said. "I could really go for something alcoholic right now." He shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. "No, I, uh—I don't have a girlfriend, no. I didn't think that I was being too particularly clandestine about my intentions, but I suppose that anything goes in today's world of scandals and kinks, right? Single or taken, it's all about presentation, all about preference. No," he said again. "No, I'm very much single."
He leaned forward, running his hands up and down his thighs. Another nervous action. He glanced back at her. "I don't suppose that your boyfriend lives here with you, does he? He's not going to come home and kick my ass when he finds me here, is he?"
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Post by Cayla on Jan 26, 2013 4:56:32 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}"No. Not particularly." Marina chuckled. It was a good true laugh. Her problems seemed to lift off her shoulders for the time being. It felt good.
"Actually. I don't have a boyfriend," she stammered. Her eyes scattered across the room. "To be completely honest with you, I've never dated anyone for more than a week. I've always been set up from my parents telling me what to do. "
Marina hesitated. "A drink?" She asked again, "I'm not much of a drinker. I've got wine, but I could order you up a drink if you'd like. Or I have a fresh glass of iced tea or lemonade in the fridge." Marina pointed with her thumb back toward the kitchen.
"So, tell me a little about yourself. Otherwise I can start. " Marina didn't want to be known as the spoiled brat that got whatever she wanted and when she wanted. She liked to work for stuff. She could get the chance to tell Russell. If he cared. Marina was not shocked she was ready to spill her guts. She always did. Getting the person who actually cared was the problem.
Marina noticed Russell was rubbing his hands on his pants, like he was sweating. She wanted to say something like, don't be nervous. She didn't. She kinda was nervous too. Her heart was beating fast and she began shaking her foot. She took a deep breath. Marina hadn't really felt truly attracted to anyone before. Was this what it felt like? She couldn't be too sure.
Marina got up to call the bartender to bring up a few drinks, but she was slightly worried about the idea. Marina was never a drinker, yet she grew up around families who owned wineries. She also have had been to plenty of upscale bars and parties to drink. It just wasn't her thing. She hated dry wine. It was always too bitter for her taste. She liked sweet champagne, but rarely drank any.
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Post by Samantha on Jan 26, 2013 19:37:22 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell watched Marina rise from the couch, intent on getting him a drink. "Don't worry about it," he said, rising to catch her arm before she could get too far. "I don't want you to go out of your way for me. Wine's fine. So is iced tea. Whatever you'd like, okay?"
If she wasn't much of a drinker, then he certainly didn't want to make her uncomfortable by drinking by his lonesome. He realized that he probably should have stopped in the lounge again before coming up. He always felt better with a drink in his system, to take the edge off.
He sat back down. "There's really not much to tell," he said, speaking now of himself. He knew that this wasn't entirely true, but it was the story that he stuck with whenever he was speaking to someone new. "Well," he continued, "for starters, I've lived in Lake Owensway for my entire life. I currently live downtown in an apartment with my grandfather. I read a lot. I, uh, work in a hotel..."
He smiled weakly. "See? I told you that there wasn't much to tell. I don't have a very exciting life. This is probably the most interesting thing that I've done all week long. Actually, no, that's not true. The most interesting thing that's happened to me was that freak elevator incident, but you get my point."
He leaned back and made a show of looking around the penthouse. "So what do you do for fun up here? I was expecting a pool table, perhaps a sixty-inch flat screen, or maybe I'm just thinking about what my bachelor pad would look like, had I the money to afford a place like this."
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Post by Cayla on Jan 27, 2013 1:52:42 GMT
{name:Marina Morris#|#picture:3}Marina's eyes narrowed. She knew Russell was leaving something else. She shrugged. Not everyone is willing to open up quickly.
Marina went to the kitchen to grab a fresh bottle of wine and a few glasses. She sat back down on the couch and started to take out the cork with a corkscrew until she heard a 'pop!'. Marina poured out the dark red liquid gently into the crystal glasses. She handed one to Russell. She took a sip.
"Well, Mr. Russell. If I can read people as well as I think, you probably think you've got me all figured out. You are very wrong buster. Let me tell you my life story. Trust me. It won't take very long." She took another sip and set her wine down on the coffee table in front of her. She brought her legs up onto the couch and hugged her legs. She looked down and her heels. She still had them on.
"Anyway, you know I was born into a rich family," Marina said gesturing around her home, "I never liked my mother and father. They never really loved me. They just spoiled me with gifts to make me go away. I am an only child. Not perfect. My parents wanted me to be. Put me in ballet, piano, and you name it. I've probably been there. My whole life I've been with lifeless people that have nothing but their money to stand for. I'm the rebel of my family," Marina said bluntly.
"I do whatever I can to make my parents itch. Also, I love swimming," Marina lifted up her glass and ran her finger around the rim.
"But you know," she said, "I could put in a LED flat screen, and a pool table here," she scanned the room where to put her ideas.
Marina sighed. "I could spend 100,000 dollars in a day and my parents would hardly care or notice." Marina waited for Russell's reaction, but he didn't seem like an emotional person.
Marina got an idea. "Hey, why don't I show you my personal pool in the hotel? Only penthouse residents get a key. I'm sure they wouldn't mind if I invited a guest. Nobody ever really goes down there."
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Post by Samantha on Jan 27, 2013 17:49:21 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell took the wine glass from Marina. It was crystal and heavy, and he nearly dropped it. He took a sip and grimaced. He rarely, if ever, drank wine. Too dry. It always left him wanting to chase it with a swig of water. Or whiskey.
She called him "Mr. Russell" and "buster," and it made him smile. A girl with something to prove, he thought. He listened to her talk about her family with his eyes cast downwards, unsure of what to say. When she mentioned the last part—about spending all that money and her parents never noticing—he remembered the car that she had tried to give him. He didn't know what to think. On the one hand, he couldn't fathom having that much money and squandering it away like that. He wanted to say, Oh my, you poor little rich girl, and wallow in his own miseries. But on the other hand, he knew that pain was relative, and he didn't wish to dismiss hers so easily. Social class and wealth didn't diminish family strife and anguish.
He was sure, however, that a few million dollars could cushion the blow. Better to be kicked and rich than kicked and poor.
"I'm sorry," he said, and meant it. His eyes rose to meet hers. After a moment, he leaned forward and refilled his glass, offering to top hers off as well. He looked around the penthouse again, thankful for the change in subject. Televisions and pool tables were something that he could speak on—superficialities were something that he could talk about and talk about well. "You know," he began, "if you ever did get a pool table up here, I'd have to start spending a lot more time over here. I'm a pretty mean pool player."
She asked him if she could show him the pool.
He stared at her, probably for a moment too long, and then set his wine glass down on the coffee table. "The pool?" he asked. "To look at it? Just to look at it? I don't have any swim trunks with me..."
He was jumping to conclusions and he knew it. She hadn't asked him to go swimming—just to look. He wouldn't have to go anywhere near the water if he didn't want to. And besides, he told himself, pools had shallow ends. Pools were not beaches; they didn't have waves and undertows and endless bodies of darkness. Pools he could handle. They were basically giant tubs.
"Sure," he said, bolting to his feet. "Yeah. Let's go see your pool. Sounds great. Sounds fantastic."
He picked up his wine glass, prepared to take it with him. He figured that he might need it.
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Post by Cayla on Jan 27, 2013 21:44:47 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina got up from the couch. "Why not? I should get a pool table. You could teach me to play, " Marina said.
Russell got up and followed Marina toward the door. Marina placed her hand on Russell's back and led him out the door and down the hall. She pressed the down arrow on the elevator and waited for the working elevator to open. They got into the elevator and Marina pressed the B button for the basement. The roof pool was for guests. Marina wrapped her arms around Russell's arm that was holding the wine glass. She was still freaked out about the elevator accident.
The elevator doors opened at the basement floor and Marina sighed in relief. At the end of the basement hallway she saw the glass door to the pool. Russell and Marina walked down to the door and Marina slid in her key and the door unlocked.
Marina stepped in and could smell the scent of chlorine and heard the rush of running water. It was a big pool and the water glittered off the metallic ceiling and flood lights lit the room. In the back left corner there was a snack bar and a pool table. Marina parted with Russell and bent down to the water and swished her hand in the water. It was cool compared the the hot room. Marina a could feel the heat. She was fanning her face with her hands. She sat down in one of the lawn chairs and started to take off her heels. She was back down to normal size and could feel the cold tiles on her feet .
Boy could I go for a swim. Marina unbuttoned the top button on her blouse.
"So do you want to play billiards or go for a swim?" Marina asked, motioning over to the table. She could tell Russell was eyeing up something. She couldn't tell if it was the bar , pool table, pool, or her.
Marina took the clip out if her hair and shook out her hair. She put it up into a bun instead. She walked over to Russell.
"Boy, is it ever hot in here."
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Post by Samantha on Jan 28, 2013 1:15:06 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Downstairs by the pool, Russell hung back by the door while Marina approached the water, dipping her fingers into the cool surface. He followed her over to where a row of lounge chairs were set up, sitting down beside her. He watched her first shed her heels, then unbutton the top of her shirt. He could still feel the spot on his arm where she had clung to him during the elevator ride. She certainly was a touchy-feely kind of girl—hugging him, placing hers hands on his body—though he certainly didn't have a problem with it.
It was just this one time. He did wish—just this once—that she would keep her clothing on. Because taking them off would mean that they were stripping down for a swim, and Russell wasn't exactly looking forward to that. It wasn't that he had never been in a pool before, because he had. He'd stood rooted in the corner of the shallow end on a hot summer's day, sipping his drink, acting cooler than he felt. But he knew that Marina wouldn't be content in standing around, that she'd want to swim, and he really didn't want to have to bring up the tiny little detail that he couldn't, that he didn't know how.
Or worse. That the water terrified him.
Luckily, she provided him with a way out. She said:
"So you want to play billiards or go for a swim?"
He rose to his feet, holding out his hand to her. "Let's go play," he said, gesturing to the table. "You said that you wanted to learn, right? Well, I'll teach you. Grab a pool stick."
He led her to the back of the room, where he collected the balls from the pockets of the table and set them in the rack. "First of all," he said. "Pool and billiards? Two different games—different tables, different balls, different goals. Pool is also known as pocket billiards—and that's where you find people using the two terms interchangeably—but the fundamental game of pocket billiards and the fundamental game of carom billiards are completely different. I actually have no idea how to play billiards, to tell you the truth."
He removed the rack and walked to the other side of the table, where he set the cue ball down on the break line. He positioned his stick and took the shot. The cue ball connected solidly with the head ball, sounding a loud thwack, and sent the other fourteen balls crashing into the rails. "That was a break shot," he said, glancing up at her. "You want to give it a try? I'll rack them up for you."
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Post by Cayla on Jan 28, 2013 2:35:11 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina watched him set up the balls and then crack them apart with the pool stick.
"Oh. I had no idea there was a difference," she said.
Marina grabbed a pool stick and watched Russell set them back up. Marina gripped the stick just like Russell had done and motioned the action before she hit the cue. She positioned herself to make the shot, but the cue spiraled out of control and fell off the table and into the pool. It sunk to the deepest part of the pool, completely missing the other balls.
"oops," she said. Marina continued to unbutton her silk blouse revealing her light blue lace pushup bra. She balled up her top and tossed it into the chair. She didn't bother removing her pants before diving head-first into the deep end of the pool.
A few seconds later, her head popped up to the surface with the cue ball. "I got it!" she said waving the ball over her head. She got out of the pool with the ball in one hand. She stepped out of the pool, soaking wet with her pink pants sticking to her like they were sown into her skin.
"Here you go," Marina said and handed Russell the once wet cue ball. "So how do I do this now?" Marina asked acted as if like nothing happened. Her mascara was dripping down her face so she grabbed a towel and wiped her face. The mascara left smears in the white towel.
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Post by Samantha on Jan 28, 2013 4:59:04 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Marina set the cue ball in his outstretched palm, and his fingers curled around it. He couldn't help but gape at her. Surely she was teasing him now. Surely she knew what she was doing, taking off her shirt for him like that. As she turned away to dry her face, he allowed himself to steal a glance at her backside, his eyes traveling up her bare back and down. Then, forcing himself to look away, he reached for his wine, which balanced on the corner of the table, and took a long sip.
"Okay," he said, swallowing. "That, as I'm sure you're aware, was not good." He gave her an easy smile to show that he was kidding, and then went to rack the balls again. "Look," he said, coming back around the side of the table and picking up a cue stick. "Rest the tip of the cue on the top of her your hand, between your thumb and index finger. You can shoot just like that, an open bridge, or you can wrap your index finger over top of the cue, resting the stick on your thumb and middle finger, a closed bridge. I prefer the latter, but to each his own."
He straightened up and motioned for her to come over to him. When she was in position, he bent over her and guided her bridge hand to cradle the cue. Then he reached around her back, guiding her other hand to the back end of the stick. Her skin was cool from the pool water; she smelled strongly of chlorine, just slightly of the perfume that still lingered on her skin.
He knew what he was doing. She knew what he was doing, or at least he was fairly certain that she did. It was the oldest trick in the dating book—even he knew that. He briefly wondered if she wasn't pretending to be bad at pool, just so he'd have to help her. The front of his shirt, he could feel, was soaked through with the water from her body. Even his cheek, brushing against her hair, was damp.
"Your dripping water on the pool table," he said softly against her ear. He pulled his arm back—and with his, so moved hers—and took the shot, the cue sliding through her fingers. The little white cue ball cracked against the head ball, and once again the rest of the pool balls went flying around the table.
"Very nice," he murmured.
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Post by Cayla on Jan 29, 2013 0:40:18 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina shivered. "Oh sorry," she said and grabbed the towel she was using.
She draped it over her back and looked back at the game. She set herself back up with a cue aiming at a random solid colored ball trying to take a good shot. She took a strike at the cue, this time it wasn't hard enough and the cue slightly rolled into the ball she aimed at and it slowly fell in the pocket.
Marina smiled weakly at Russell for her success. He didn't seem impressed. Marina examined Russell's body language for his emotions. He was hard to read, mysterious, usually someone Marina wouldn't bother with, but this time was different. She was determined to figure him out and he was slightly breaking at the seams.
She examined his dark blue eyes, reminding Marina slightly of a sad puppy that was aggressive on the outside. She counted each beauty mark on his face, every mark of imperfection. She watched the way his eyes followed her when she looked away, but when she stared in his eyes he would stare back, but then look elsewhere. She noticed the dark wet spot on his uniform where he leaned against him. She watched him touch his wet cheek but not completely wipe it away. What could he have been thinking?
She pointed at the wet spot. "Why not take that off? I can get it dry cleaned for you and ready for work tomorrow, unless you want to take off and hang with me."
She put her hand on his chest and was going to help unbutton his jacket. Instead Marina said, "Considering I'm already wet, I'm going to go for a swim. Care to join me?"
Marina sat down on her chair and peeled off her wet jeans. She walked over to the lockers in the front of the room and unlocked hers with a combination and pulled outout a two piece bikini and shoved her wet jeans in the locker. She motioned Russell to turn around so she could change. Once she was changed she opened up another locker full of new, designer brands swim trunks for men.
"Okay. You can look now. Help yourself to a swimsuit," Marina said. "I promise I won't look."
Marina dangled her feet from the edge and sat down.
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Post by Samantha on Jan 29, 2013 3:48:55 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}There was a moment—just a fleeting moment—when Russell had still been standing over Marina that he'd thought maybe, just maybe, she might have turned her face and maybe, just maybe, he might have leaned in. But she didn't, and he had never gotten the chance. She shivered and stepped away from him, apologizing as she reached for her towel.
He didn't move. As if she was still beneath him, he stood leaning against the table, his arms supporting the weight of his body. He drew his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing it raw as he watched her line up to take another shot. It was a weak one; the cue ball but tapped the green six-ball, nudging it into the left corner pocket. She turned and smiled at him, and he tried to smile back, but his mind hadn't yet returned to the game of pool.
He didn't know if she had been completely blind to what he had been about to do—perhaps she was too inexperienced with these things, or perhaps he'd been too subtle in going about it—or if he had simply surprised her, scared her away.
He just didn't understand; he didn't understand her. There she went again, reaching for his shirt, touching his chest. Did she really not realize what she was doing? What she that touchy with everyone that she knew or was it only with him?
"Considering I'm already wet," she said to him, "I'm going to go for a swim. Care to join me?"
She stepped away from him, her hands falling away from his shirt, and wriggled out of her jeans. While she changed into her swimsuit, he turned around to face the pool table. He picked up his wine glass and finished off the last of the ruby-red liquid, wishing that he'd have grabbed the bottle on the way down. His head was spinning, but it was unfortunately from neither the wine nor the thought of the naked girl standing behind him.
When she said that it was all right for him to look, he turned back around to find that she had opened up another locker, inside of which was a row of men's swim trunks.
"Why," he asked her, watching as she sat down on the ledge of the pool, "do you have a whole line of men's swimwear in your possession? You do this often, don't you—bring men down here? I'm not sure how comfortable I am with that, to tell you the truth."
He was kidding, of course, but at this point he'd say just about anything to prolong his having to get in that pool. He tried to weigh his options, but they were all looking dim. With a heavy sigh, he gave in and began to unbutton his shirt. He slipped off his shoes, then his pants and boxers, and quickly pulled on a pair of floral red swim trunks.
"Which one of your boyfriends has worn these before me?" he asked, approaching her. He didn't sit down but instead stood over her, tugging on the waist band of the suit. "At any rate, I bet I pull off flowery print better than any man you know. How do they look, huh?"
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Post by Cayla on Jan 30, 2013 0:00:35 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Maria giggled. "I'm quite the shopaholic," she explained. "If I like something, I buy it. No matter who or what for. I just do."
She turned around to see Russell had chosen a bright red swimsuit with a floral pattern. She couldn't help but gaze up at his abs. They were perfectly sculpted as if a professional artist did work on him. He looked a bit uneasy. Marina twisted her ponytail with her fingers.
"For your information, I don't have a boyfriend. Never really did. I've only really dated dull rich guys who have nothing better to do with themselves." She shrugged and did a shallow seated dive from the edge of the pool. She bobbed her head back out of the shallow and saw Russell ease into the pool at the pace of a snail.
"Um, aren't you coming?" she said splashing him a bit.
"I don't bite...much," Marina muttered. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you are, or were, afraid of water." She saw Russell tense. A big man afraid of water? That's not possible.
Marina splashed her way back over to Russell she treaded circles around him, making a mini whirlpool that pulled Marina toward Russell. She tripped over his foot and caught herself around Russell's neck. His muscular neck. She stood herself back up in the water and put her head on his shoulder.
"I know I'm different," she said softly in his ear. "I know I'm a physical person. I push and shove people. It's who I am. Who are you? " Marina asked holding on the the word 'you'.
Marina lifted her head and kissed his cheek. She grabbed his wrist and could feel his pulse pounding one hundred miles an hour. "Are you okay?" Marina wasn't sure what to say, or what he wanted to say.
Marina started to float toward the deep end and laid up on her back. She peeked at Russell at the corner of her eye, who hadn't moved since. She swam closer. She continued treading water in the deep end closet to Russell in the shallow end.
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Post by Samantha on Jan 30, 2013 3:18:55 GMT
{name:Russell McBride#|#picture:2}Russell squatted at the edge of the pool, wrapping his arms around his legs. Marina—with effortless grace—dove into the pool, her body cutting through the water like a bullet through the air. She emerged on the other end of the pool, her hair slicked back and the water reflecting off the underside of her chin.
At her insistence, he sat down on the ledge and scooted forward, using his arms to lower himself down into the water. "There," he called out to her. "I'm in, okay?"
Yes, he was; he was in the water. He was standing, rod-straight, in the center of the shallow end, holding his arms up by his chest like one does to avoid really cold water. Marina had swum over to meet him, and she was now circling in the water around him. He had been trying to think of something to say to counter her ridiculous accusation that he was afraid of the water—ridiculous! Absolutely preposterous!—when she stumbled into him, probably (he thought) on purpose, and wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt the coolness of her damp hair as she rested her head against his shoulder, the tickle of her breath as she explained herself to him.
She kissed him—on the cheek, but she'd done it. He was left with a strange sense of emptiness—a feeling of desire, but desire that wouldn't be fulfilled—as she swam back out into the deep end of the water.
"You move too much," he said. "Has anyone ever told you that? You're making this very difficult for me."
He walked out to the edge of the shallow end where the floor began its decent into darkness. His toes curled over the edge, but he moved no further. He wouldn't—not for her, not for anyone.
"You want to know who I am?" he asked, voice rising and echoing throughout the large room. "Well, I'll tell you what I'm not: I'm not a chaser. I'm not going to follow you around like a damn dog, waiting and hoping that you'll throw me a bone. You can push and shove me all you want, Marina, but you'll just have to come to me to do it."
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Post by Cayla on Jan 30, 2013 21:41:39 GMT
{name:Marina Morris #|#picture:3}Marina was slightly stunned by his answer. She couldn't tell if it was his tone or personality that was aggressive. Maybe he just was a secretive person. Then she thought; did he just say something about her making the first move? Wasn't the kiss on the cheek enough to see if he liked her? Maybe it was the wrong environment. He wasn't comfortable with something.
She swam back over to him. "Okay Russell. You win. I can be your dog that follows at your heels. You tell me what's next, or I can do it." Marina said.
She crossed her arms, but a part of her wanted to embrace Russell. Like he had been deprived of love (somewhat like Marina) in his lifetime. She knew he wouldn't take a credit card, but she could offer him something to ease his mind. "So," she said.
"Would you mind it if I treated you to dinner? It's your pick." Marina hoped that he would accept. Marina leaped out of the pool and saw Russell move toward the pool ladder. If swimming wasn't his thing, big deal. She'll know not to push him in the deep end as a joke.
Marina was starting to realize that Russell was naturally stubborn, or just a jackass. She just couldn't be sure about anything with more him. She did know one thing. He was physicaly fit and good looking.
She picked up her towel and dried her hair. She didn't know whether to invite Russellback up to her penthouse or ask if he needed a ride home. Instead of speaking, Marina sat there and really wanted him to speak. She was curious if he would open up about something if there was an awkward silence.
Marina looked around the pool area and then back at herself. She started to point back at the pool table and jerked her finger back down. To stop herself from speaking, she sucked in her cheeks and bit down. She looked back up at Russell hoping he would have something to say. He sure thought about stuff a lot.
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