Hiding the cheese. . .

An interesting conversation with my good friend TGC:

ElessarAncalime: haha my elephant army is sweeping across the world!
Daniele Marx: *hides the cheese*
ElessarAncalime: do elephants like cheese?
Daniele Marx: Not taking AnY chances
Daniele Marx: kitties like cheese
ElessarAncalime: one of mine does, but the other doesn't
ElessarAncalime: he likes tomatos
Daniele Marx: tomatoes? *hides ketchup*
ElessarAncalime: only fresh ones
Daniele Marx: ohh...*stops trying to fit all of her ketchup in the small closet* ...okay. *swings door open wide, begins to walk away, but is trampled by hundreds of ketchup bottles.*
ElessarAncalime: why on earth do you need so much ketchup?
Daniele Marx: Shh! The first rule of Ketchup Club is WE DO NOT TALK ABOUT KETCHUP CLUB!
ElessarAncalime: gasp!
ElessarAncalime: i need to invent boats soon, i've conquered the entire continent
Daniele Marx: You can't use my ketchup bottles as a base for your boats! *quickly unburies herself and starts throwing the bottles back into the closet*
ElessarAncalime: please?
Daniele Marx: no! *begins to lock the door*
Daniele Marx: *door groans, sweatdrop falls...o.O;;;...and the bottles come tumbling out again*
ElessarAncalime: *gets some popcorn because this is really amusing*
Daniele Marx: *grumbles, unburies herself, and straightens hair out. Picks up a single bottle, hides it on the back of her bookshelf, and throws the rest into the closet YET again. Closes the door with absolutely no problem this time.*
Daniele Marx: *whew!*
ElessarAncalime: *goes to the bookshelf* i think this bottle is empty, do you have a fresh one?
Daniele Marx: *scowls*
Daniele Marx: Toss it, and get your own from the closet. JUST ONE! I'll know if more are missing, I count them.
ElessarAncalime: but the door is locked and i don't have the key!
Daniele Marx: Then I guess you'll just have to buy your own. ;P
ElessarAncalime: you're so mean :-(
ElessarAncalime: you know how poor i am
Daniele Marx: Ketchup comes in the tons in all convenient serving areas.
ElessarAncalime: but i need it nowwww
Daniele Marx: Oh fine. *walks to the door, slides open the trap eyehole, and retrieves a bottle*
ElessarAncalime: hey, pretty slick
Daniele Marx: Yeah, getting it to stay in the first place is hard
Daniele Marx: Din-din! later.
ElessarAncalime: seeeya

Awaiting a Kiss

I think I'm going to post a story now. It's a spin-off from my someday novel. Comments are appreciated. Section in Italics is a flashback.
~~~~
Dana woke up abruptly, too alert for comfort. She looked around the room with her green eyes and didn’t recognize her surroundings at first. Her heart pounded inside her ribcage from her uncomfortable dream which was fading from memory. She wasn’t in her small studio apartment where she thought she deserved to be; the cold, moist air and the painfully familiar relics would sashay around her to remind her of the life she once had before her mother passed away. It was a painful reminder of what used to be, one which she clung to as a child would a worn out, but precious, teddy bear. She needed the reminder that she couldn’t be happy.

Here the air was warmer, though, and mock comforting. The four poster bed and fluffy comforter massaged her legs, and the pillows were sleep-inducing. She felt horrible, but willing to fall back into the slumber which had been presented to her. She wasn’t comfortable with the comfort she had been provided. Her long raven hair fell back against the pillow as she curled up from the traffic she had in her mind. She didn’t want comfort. It was something normal people settled into, not hackers, deserters of the light, like her. She knew if she relaxed, something bad would happen. Bad things always happened to her when she let her guard down. Sitting in this bed wasn’t easing her mind, but if she left this room she risked the chance of meeting him.

Her stomach turned awkwardly at the notion of being out of her room let alone out of her bed; she frowned instinctively at the thought of referring to this place, this horrible relic of the past, hers. Suddenly the place she was staying was full of relics of a tasteful reminder that she didn’t deserve happiness. Anymore than Alan deserved to be off the hook. Making comparisons between him and herself wasn’t wise psychologically, but she did it anyway. Now that there was nothing out there besides a few friends, who didn’t know where she was, and the Bureau, who were in the same predicament. Alan wanted her around. It awakened a small notion that had been dormant since she met the man.

She was sure she loved him.

Her stomach turned again. It felt right, but she knew it was wrong. It was wrong knowing that he held something over her and she still felt something because of him.

She realized she was starting to feel hungry. Leave it to me to feel hungry at inopportune times, she thought. She knew now that she wasn’t going to be able to sleep anytime soon; she decided to get up and find something to calm her anxious stomach nerves. Pulling the covers off of her, Dana stood on the soft carpet for a moment to gather her bearings. Satisfied after her balance, she moved toward the door which would lead to the long corridor. From there, she would pad down the wooden hallway alone with only her breathing and footsteps to accompany her, which wasn’t an unhealthy notion. Being alone was something of a second nature to her. Then she would descend the stairway and walk to her right until she faced the opposite direction. Her feet would carry her down a smaller corridor to the main kitchen, where Alan said she was welcome to rummage for whatever suited her craving. That had always been the case between them.

When Dana entered the kitchen she flicked the lights on; she complimented Alan silently on his designer’s work on furnishing the area. Cobblestone tiles provided a rustic feeling against the pads of her feet. The dark wood cabinets and cabinets and hanging bronze pots over the stationary island made her stomach ease a little. Very little attention was paid to the cream-colored walls. They blended well with the rest of the room.

The refrigerator was chrome, contrasting the décor but not drawing from the rest of the design Dana walked over to look inside for something which would make her feel better. As she stepped past the closest corner of the island to the door she froze from hearing footsteps behind her in the entrance. Turning her gaze from her target which stood in front of her as she stood between the objects, she saw Alan leaning against the doorframe. He wore a pair of black jeans and a green tee shirt which appeared to be slightly worn in. His arms crossed, he stared intensely into her eyes as though he were debating an important issue. She let his eyes rove over her flannel shorts and loose tank top; for a long second she realized that she was glad she wore her undergarments. Then Alan spoke.

"Insomnia?" The word was simple, direct and confusing. For a moment Dana was certain that Alan was being sincere. She shook off the awkwardness and shrugged lightly.

"New surroundings, new situation. You?"

"I don’t sleep very often. Have business to tend to usually. Want anything in particular?" Dana fell silent, refusing to look like she was being held against her will. She decided not to bring this fact up; Alan sauntered past her to get to the fridge first since she hesitated. He kept his distance for the first time since she knew him. She was tense, and she knew he was being cautious. Did it mean anything?

"We’ve got Chianti."

"What year?"

"Seventy-nine."

"Sure." Alan pulled a half empty bottle from the chrome fridge and approached Dana. Her back shifted to rest against the flat edge of the island which faced the door, Alan to her left. She took a long moment to admire his profile as he approached her slowly. He had never dressed down around her before, and she found this half of him more attractive than his casual wear. All she usually saw was the businessman and the sex-centered man.

Tonight was, without a doubt, a night of firsts.

Alan reached behind her and grabbed two wine glasses from the same rack the pots and pans hung. Apparently he left those out just in case she had a hard time adjusting to her new surroundings. He poured them a glass each which finished off the bottle, and took a sip of the sweet liquid. She wasn’t supposed to drink. Her condition…a flash of color passed by her eyes and she grabbed onto the island as her lips parted the glass. Alan sent her a look of concern, but she refused to meet his stare. She copied his motion. Though they were minors, they weren’t strangers to alcohol. The times they had during their education and blackmailing days were often a pilot to midnight drinks, even if only one of them were strong-willed enough to make the trip down for a nightcap. Usually they were so tired from all of the physical activities they’d had.

But with Jacob around, there was always strength in her for a drink. His greedy hands on her body never felt right and she often got nauseous without something alcoholic on hand, even if it was half a wine cooler. Alan knew this; there wasn’t much he didn’t know about her. He knew where she liked to be touched and how, and he knew how and when she wanted his contact. Jacob hadn’t, which made her less personal toward him. She figured if she separated her feelings and actions when around him, things would be easier. Apparently Jacob liked that.

Alan, though…

"What are you thinking about?"

"Something I chose not to think aloud about."

"Us?" Dana raised her eyes slowly to meet his, her gaze deceiving what she actually felt. She needed to respond with as much indifference as possible. He waited patiently for her to answer him, not pressuring her as he took a subtle sip from his glass.

"Somewhat." Lying to his face like that had been harder than she had wagered it would be. She distracted them both by raising the glass to her lips for another sip. When she saw her shaking hand, she lowered it, her eyes determined not to betray her as her nerves had. This was hard as she met his blue eyes.

"It’s only natural to think of a lover when you’re in his presence. Tell me what else is on your mind now."

"I’d rather not. You shouldn’t concern yourself with them."

"The same way I shouldn’t concern myself with the agent?" Dana stopped, not feeling anything. Jordan was no longer her caretaker, and she felt it as a wave of dispassionate emotion. She didn’t much care for the lack of response she’d displayed but knew there wasn’t anything she could do about it now. Alan’s eyes bore into her and though she wished she could remain as she was, she couldn’t. She shrugged instead.

"You can concern yourself with that all you like but you’ll only have concerns for assumptions, and those are no good." Dana saw Alan inch closer to her, and prepared herself for anything awkward. She closed her eyes as she took a took a sip; she could feel him shift to stand directly in front of her. When she opened her eyes his blue irises clashed with her green ones. His gaze, though serene, seemed to violently drift her away from what she considered reality.

"You were thinking about feeling insecure around Jacob." She didn’t blink, and wondered if she would’ve if she could. Probably not. The familiar scent of a simple yet expensive cologne invaded her senses. It hadn’t been strong or caked on, which was always considerate of him. He had worn it since before he approached her years ago.

She walked through the desolate hallways in search of her locker, the one which would be hers for the entire year. Hoping for some kind of sign that she was in the correct hallway, she looked carefully at the numbers on each locker to see if there were any physical signs that she was anywhere close to anyplace she could call close. She was sure they put the building together wrong just for her benefit.

Her name was Dana. The quiet girl scenario plagued her existence; people thought she was smart. She didn’t tell them any different, that if you cracked open a book every once in awhile you could easily get an acceptable grade. Unfortunately for her, she had too many acceptable grades for her own good. Looking around, she knew books wouldn’t help her.

Dana Winifred Eiseley was lost.

She stopped to analyze her situation, vaguely aware of a sweet-smelling cologne coming from behind her; that is to say she knew there was a smell and there was someone standing behind her. She turned around only to stare up into a pair of incredibly blue eyes, ones that seemed, in a way, devious. The boy before her brought up his hand and plucked her schedule. He began to read it and she shifted slightly from her left foot to her right. She wanted to snatch that paper from his hand fiercely, but couldn’t find her strength suddenly. His eyes, though blank, were somewhat daring her to do something while he read her classes, personal information, and whatnot. After a long second he handed the paper back to her without guilt or argument and she glared at him, almost astonished at his audacity.

"Welcome, Eiseley, to the place where you will be from. You look lost. Turn left at the far corner that way," he pointed back to where she had come from, "and it will be on the right. When looking for your classrooms, start from the south and move north. The numbers go up that way. As much as I love watching people wander aimlessly for hours, I’m in a charitable mood." He paused. "What?"

"Your name if you will."

"How ignorant of me to your person. Alan Carlton Svela." He smelled sweet, like the combination of a fresh shower, high testosterone, and something oceanic. Nerves of steel, she could tell. He looked like someone she should watch our for. Alan’s hand rose for hers and instinctively she complied with the gesture; she was shocked. He was almost a gentleman. If it hadn’t been for his eyes, she would’ve believed he was. From the greeting she could’ve sworn he knew her, which made her a bit uneasy. "You graduated from finishing school not too long ago is that correct?"

"It is. You keep up with your news."

"That and your watch is the same they give the graduates." Dana nodded, and raised her hand. This young man had an eye for detail, which made her wonder what kind of friends he had, what kind of life he chose to lead. Whatever it was, she knew better than to mess with him while standing less than a few feet across from him for less than five minutes. From the way he carried himself, his stern blue eyes and blank expression, it wouldn’t have been a big surprise if he were an influential person in this establishment.

"Very observant." Dana needed to move on before he struck up a conversation. She could end his discussion with her own theory, show him that she wasn’t falling for his act. His eyes told her everything she needed to know: He was not a nice person, and couldn’t be trusted. Her lips quirked slightly as she began to put together what she would say. "Why would you feel obliged to learn about people before they arrive?"

"Every single person is a puzzle that wants to be solved. It is intriguing to see into the mind of others." Dana found herself slightly uneasy when she heard his tone, but knew it to be an automatic response to someone who was naturally intimidating. Pushing down the miniscule emotion she focused on those which would help her rather than break her down.

"And what happens when the puzzles cease to intrigue you?" He was a control addict. Things around him had to have order and she was sure by the few sparse minutes they spent conversing that he would do anything at all to bring order to his world.

His attitude could be hazardous to her person.

She shouldn’t associate with him any longer.

"Thank you for pointing out the right direction for me, Alan," she said, hesitating. She chastised herself for not sounding confident in using his first name. She had the notion that not too many people used his first name at all, which also wasn’t a surprise. She also had the notion that calling him by name was an invitation for an acquaintance of some sort. Needing to get away from this was important. "I’ll be moving along now." She began to walk past Alan when he spoke.

"I make you insecure." It was more of a statement than a question.

"I imagine you’d enjoy hearing that from me."

"Just as much as you’d like to tell me why I would be interested in your insecurity." She waited, as though demanding an answer. So far her chances of making any friends in this place were very low. She had a confirming feeling that befriending Alan Carlton Svela or anyone associated with him would be very damaging. It was best to back away now. Strategically speaking she knew she had no choice since she knew nothing of him. How she despised backing away from a challenge.

And with that final thought she turned away stubbornly and walked away.

And here she was despite her better logic.

Damn cologne.

He made her a bit uneasy, standing in front of her like he was, silent, predatory, but she was calm in the sense that he hadn’t taken her into his arms and administered all the touches both of them knew would make her purr like a kitten. Her heart sped up without proper warning and took her off guard. Yes, being in this special situation made her stomach turn and crave the contact they had deserted long ago. And, truth be told, she wanted to feel the soft touch of his tee shirt against her fingertips as he caressed her with enough restraint to drive them both crazy. The fact that he was dressed as he was made her stomach trill with anticipation.

She hesitated against her better judgment. Her heart ached as she remembered what her association with him meant. Had those lessons she learned gone unnoticed by her? Was she prepared to interact with him on such a level after she had fought so hard to regain her freedom from him? Or was she just tired of running from everything? Part of her didn’t mind so long as he didn’t wait too long and the other part knew the dangers but couldn’t get past the busy signal sent by the other part of her. She really wanted him to be one of the liberties she never got to take. Letting him sweep her off her feet just this once wouldn’t be terrible, could it?

Without much thought, she rested her hand on Alan’s arm and stood on her tiptoes to make their lips touch. His hand came up to cup her cheek and the decision was made. There wasn't much to turn back to now, and she believed she needed it. Perhaps it was her mind playing tricks on her that told her she could be calm around him; he seemed to be the only one who was making the effort to understand her. Beyond these walls there was a world of confusion where people didn't care to know about her recent losses. One day was like another out there. She didn't want to move on now, but she reveled in his strength. When did he become her pillar, her lover? Did it matter when they were there in the end? There were problems in their world as well but they didn't want to confront them now. Maybe later.

Forgetting was okay when there was something to look forward to. Right?

My name is Daniele Marx. Welcome to my blog. In the unlikely circumstance you should happen to stumble onto my little corner of the world, I must give you an automated message that many would apply to:

"Welcome, _______, to The Hideaway. I'm sure you will like it here if you stay for a while. Check out the stuff, located on either side (not sure where everything is), and read the things I have to say. If you want. I do care but I'm not going to say that to you. . . " *curses* "Well, I guess I am going to say that to you! Etc etc etc and so on and so forth. Enjoy!"

Redundant enough? Oh well, it doesn't matter, on with the next order of business. This blog will hold mainly the creative side of me, some short stories, poetry, favorite quotes, crazy conversations, and other places. If you're looking for direct musings into my mind, I've got another place reserved for that:

The Hideaway (Don't fuck up my chi, got it?)
http://www.livejournal.com/users/d_marx/

I'm sure there'll be more down here eventually. Have fun.