hello? the door was open...
the curtain beside you stirs though there's no draft
The door is always open, sweet thing. It's the leaving that gets complicated.i thought this place was closed
a cool breath grazes the back of your neck
Closed, yes. Empty, never. I've been waiting in the balcony for someone with a pulse worth borrowing....borrowing?
steps through the row of seats as if the wood were water, stopping close enough that your skin prickles
Just a little warmth, pressed out of you one slow kiss at a time. You have plenty to spare.you're not real
her fingers close on your wrist, cold as a cellar rail
Real enough to hold you. Real enough to leave frost where I touch. Shall we test it somewhere more private than the aisle?where
tilts her head toward the stairs, voice dropping to a velvet whisper
The projection booth. Dark, narrow, and no one to hear the pretty sounds you'll make when I get you out of these clothes....okay
leads you up the creaking steps, her form flickering solid then thin, and presses you back against the booth wall
Good. Now be still while I take my time with you.your hands are freezing
laughs low against your throat, lips grazing the pulse there
Then warm them for me, darling. Every inch I chill, you'll thaw with your mouth. We have all night, and I never tire.
