Coffee and cigarettes.
Her two greatest pleasures in the world.
Couple them up with a full moon and a cold night and she had herself a damn good time. She never really went out much, just to this local dive that had a bunch of local bands and shitty local smells wafting from the kitchen. It sucked, but there wasn't much in this town for anyone to do, especially if you were only a few years away from drinking age, like most of the patrons here were. She sighed as she took another leisurely drag from her fag, watching the smoke drift towards the ceiling. She remembered hearing about smoke and omens and high priestesses somewhere, but didn't give enough of a fuck to try and remember it all.
She sat in her little corner of the bar, watching some shitty punk band try to wow the crowd. It wasn't enough, the audience didn't care or they were too elitist, which was highly unlikely in this town, or they just weren't into Davey Havok wannabes, as if there weren't enough of those around already. Sighing, she dropped the remnant of her fag to the floor and stomped on it, grinding it out. It was getting time for her main attraction, the band she came to see was getting ready to go on.
She forced her way to the center of the dance floor, stomping on feet and elbowing underage twists aside so she could get a god enough view- or rather a good enough blast from the speakers to make her ribs vibrate from the bass.
God she loved a good bass line.
It was like sex with music, to be shaken like that for a continuous length of time. If they could make a vibrator that did that she wouldn't have to come and be surrounded by slathering idiots and their teeny bopper girlies who were too busy gossiping about their latest teen crush to fully appreciate the grimy atmosphere of the bar, to understand what it meant to be a true fan.
Fuck being a true fan, she reflected as the lights dimmed. She was only here for one reason and one reason only. She wanted to dance, and she was going to fucking dance.
When the first notes sounded, she tossed back her head, and when the singer growled into the mike she started flinging herself around like a leaf in a storm. Nothing was safe, nothing was sacred. She touched herself,running her hands over the leather encasing her body. She would really have to thank her friend for getting too big for this corset, she smirked to herself, nothing like a baby to put things into perspective for a single girl like herself. Her leather pants were tight, almost to the point of splitting across the seam on her ass. She loved tight clothes, and she loved showing off her ass. It took her years to get one big enough to strain clothes, sand she would be damned if she didn't work what God have finally fucking given her.
She tossed herself around, throwing her hips from side to side, waving her arms, tossing her head back like she was weightless. She teased, she taunted, she made everyone around her aware of her presence... but she didn't give a fuck about any of them.
She was here for her.
She was here to let go.
And she would be damned if someone stopped her from celebrating.
She stomped on the floor, sending shivers through the timbers. She arched her back as if she had an orgasm, right there on the dance floor. She scratched and tore at the air like she wanted to rip it apart. She was a woman possessed by the dance and by the feeling of freedom it gave her, to just let go and be.
It wasn't enough, she reflected, to just do this once a week. She knew she'd be coming here more often, especially when the new band took the stage and the screaming guitars and pounding bass and thundering drums and screeching keys took her away. It was ecstasy, pure bliss, it was liberating and captivating and oh god so fucking sinful to let go like this.
Once the band was finished, she stomped over to the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey to go with her coffee, and lit another smoke.
She grinned at the bartender, an old friend from high school and grabbed the drink, downing it in one gulp, the hot liquid mingling with the booze to burn and sear and singe her on the inside, making her become something more than what she was before.
She was on the hunt tonight, and she wouldn't be satisfied until ALL of her was satisfied.
She grinned again. It was time to find herself a ride home. A ride who didn't mind driving fast, or pounding music.
Yes, it was time to find herself a man.
She smirked as she surveyed the slim pickings this place had to offer. Fucked him; banged him; did him; he was ugly; he was fat; he had pimples; he had a tiny dick- deal breaker right there- he had the herp. The girls weren't much better. Slut; whore; bitch; diseased; lived with her parents; had a boyfriend; goody-goody; too corrupt, even for her... yes, slim pickings tonight indeed.
She didn't use to be like this, she mused as she took another drag. She used to be good, used to stay in all night, used to restrain herself... in different ways, of course, she glanced at her corset. She didn't really remember what made her snap, but whatever it was... no, she remembered, all right, but she tried not to. She snapped for a boy. Well, after a boy, actually, but it was pretty much the same thing. Broken after or for a boy, it all amounted to the same thing in the end. Straightening up, she blew a kiss to some random barfly glaring at her, and walked out of the bar. They had her credit card info, they knew her routine. Sighing in disappointment, she kicked her bike upright and revved the engine. Nothing like a girl driving a bike to make the boys cream their pants, but tonight it seemed like everyone she wanted to attract was holed up inside.
Looks like home again, she thought, depressed by the thought of waking up with a caffeine hangover and coughing a fit of tar from her lungs. Usually she preferred to have her lay of the evening deal with herself in the morning so she wouldn't have to, but no such luck tonight. She tore off, reflecting on her evening. The dancing was fantastic, of course, but she was still rather empty by the conclusion of it. She sighed, the sound lost in the roar of the bike and the bite of the wind. All in all, the end was rather disappointing, but she knew that tomorrow was another story. She couldn't shake the feeling that her life was increasingly becoming stale and hollow though, and and it worried her that she was growing predictable and boring.
Perhaps she should shake things up a bit.
Time to hit another bar.
Maybe she should find a nice man to take her home and make an honest woman out of her.
And maybe she'd grow horns and a tail and become a world famous pinup model and sideshow attraction, she laughed into the night. Idly she wondered how much money a surgery for that would cost, and filled her ride home with images of cages and starting children and gaping adults, of screeches and anguish and pity and being stared at and smells and traveling.
God, now she was being nostalgic.
Time to get blisteringly drunk.
Or maybe just go home?
No, no booze, or sleep. She didn't know what she was gonna do, but she wasn't going to do those. They were so terribly cliché. She hated clichés, almost as much as she loved making fun of them.
Perhaps it was time to rethink her routine.
Dance naked in the street?
Rob a church?
Or maybe she'd just go home and amuse herself with bad French porn and thoughts of the cute underage grunge rocker from the dive earlier.
Shit, did she really just think that?
Yes, she did.
Christ she was getting lame in her old age. Already jaded by the age of 24? Lovely, all she needed now was to get pulled over by the cops for selling meth and she would put a bullet in her brain. Or drive into a tree.
She saw flashing lights on the road in front of her. She needed to learn when to shut off her brain, it always got her into trouble when she least expected it.
That tree up ahead looked mighty tempting...
She pulled over and waited. The cop didn't stop, just kept going, his car screeching and wailing past like a comet with voice. She smirked to herself.
Life just kept getting better and better.
She stood up and looked at the moon overhead. It was a sickly orange-yellow color, like the color of skin when you were stretched out too thin and tight and ready to burst and rip and die. It fit her mood tonight; her skin felt too tight and her body like it was going to burst from something but she didn't know what. Lighting up a new smoke, she exhaled and watched the smoke twine up and into the sky. It was time for a new adventure, she knew and muttered under her breath, time for a new city and new people and a new club where she could listen to new music that pounded in her ribs and her heart in the same way as it did here. She longed for new tastes, new smells, new things that were dented and broken and smeared with chipped paint but shiny and new to her.
She had a few vacation days built up at work, she reflected idly as she leaned against her bike and breathed nicotine into her lungs and blood; they wouldn't miss her too terribly much. She'd just tell her boss that she needed a few days off to "find herself" or some other troubled yuppie bullshit- she'd eat it up and tell her to take as much time as she needed and to come back fully rested and healthy and yadda yadda yadda, bullshit bullshit bullshit. She had enough money to buy a full tank of gas, and enough gas to get her about 100 miles if she stuck to the highways.
There was nothing more beautiful than racing the sunrise on the open road.
Smirking, she threw the cigarette into the brush and mounted her bike again, reaching into the saddlebags for the tiny mp3 player she stashed there. With a few clicks of a button, music blared into her ears and the bike roared to life. She grinned under the moonlight; this song always got her blood pumping and her heart soaring. With a feral yell, she took off into the night.
There would be time enough to face her demons and her past lovers and her old haunts- right now, the call of the road was in her ears and squeezing her heart and poisoning her blood and she wasn't going to ignore it anymore.
She grinned as she gunned the engine and pointed the metal beast down the road.
Her brother was going to hate his morning surprise, but she knew he wouldn't turn her away. That would go against his code, against their code. She'd have a place to crash and food to eat and a place to shower and walk around naked, and he'd not say a word.
God knows he'd done it to her a few times before.
She shouted nonsense into the wind, growling with the engine purring underneath her. She rose up on her bike with another feral cry, and she felt lighter, stronger, better as the wind tore through her hair and ripped one of her headphones loose.
She might be jaded, but life was getting better and better all the time.
Oh yes, Big Brother was going to be pissed when he woke up.
And she couldn't be happier.