ArchivedLogs:Wine Cigarettes Woman

Wine Cigarettes Woman
Dramatis Personae Jim, Melinda	2013-04-19 Adult situations
Location <NYC> Melinda and Tag's Apartment - Lower East Side
Knock... knock? Jim manages to have a knock that conveys What THe Hell? Followed by FUCK THIS: KNOCKKNOCKKNOCK. Melinda is running late. The night supervisor was late and the subway failed her in her quick scoot across town. She is quickly tromping up the stairs to her apartment about five minutes late and possibly starting to perspire with the effort of her scurry. "Sorry!" she calls from behind Jim, her forehead wrinkled. "I just got out of the subway, or I would have texted again." Gah. Jim turns, too accustomed to being caught where he Doesn't Belong to actually look guilty, but he's definitely shrugged on his default 'you lookin' at me?' stare, holding a bottle of merlot between either hands where he'd /just/ been eyeballing the label. And wondering if it was tacky. He's /shaved/, and combed back his hair, donned a slightly less threadbare jacket, "Y'alright?" He hefts bottle under one arm to reach out and try and /take/ anything Melinda might be carrying. Because - gahhh. Frown! Totally casual. "Yeah, I'm fine." Since Melinda isn't carrying anything but her purse, she kind of looks at the hand a little funny and slides in to give him a quick hug first. "Hi." She then releases him and finds her keys in her purse and opens the door, letting him. Only inside does she turn around and give him a smile. "Come on in." Don't mind if he DOES. Jim moseys in, wagging the bottle irreverently so that it makes a constrained little 'slosh-tinkle' sound inside the glass, "Brought ya a thing." Who is bold? JIM is bold. He gets all up in Melinda's personal space, looks for one moment like 'oh crap what am I doing' while looking into her eyes. And uh. Then he kisses her? He does it kind of flinching up in his shoulders like he's not entirely sure this isn't going to get him hit. Smooooch? Oh yeah, "Hi." Melinda kisses him back, smelling like coffee predominately, but also like cigarettes, vaguely. If Jim can even smell that anymore. She mmmms quietly when she pulls away from the kiss. "Is it bad I want to push you up against the door and kiss you more?" She smiles and reaches around him to close the door and lock it. "I should get glasses." "You can do that." Jim /calls Melinda's bluff/, meeting her eyes with a gaze that's rather sharp and blue and (okay, slightly puzzled, but /challenging/) and he rather *pointedly* thumps his back against the door. Like a /predator/ locking her in. Except that she's the one that closed it. It's like a game of chicken. "Fuck glasses. Who does glasses? What's the fuck's a /glass/?" Melinda laughs a little as he backs into the door and starts questioning the existence of drinking vessels. She leans against him bodily and kisses him again when he stops speaking. She continues kissing him as she shucks off her purse and steps out of her shoes. Her nose drags lightly against his cheek and the rim of his nose before pulling away a little bit. "Do I need a corkscrew at least? are we drinking before or after?" Her hands are sliding up his chest and starting to pull at the buttons on his shirt. Jim lowers his hand, leans back his leg and lets the bottle slide out of his grip and down to the floor in a sort of controlled fall. Now he has /both/ hands free, to belt around Melinda's waist. And HOIST her off the ground. It's not a sweet bride-over-threshold scoop, he throws down a shoulder and just TOSSES her onto it, standing up like a caveman. THEN he re-collects te bottle and goes, "Let's drink in bed. Ruin the fucking sheets. Where's the corkscrew?" He's wandering towards the kitchen, sack-of-flour Melinda carried off ass-first. She can wave bye-bye to the door. "Silverware drawer," Melinda replies from her new position, once she gets air back in her lungs to reply. She drapes herself against him for a moment, limply, then eyes his backside, then finally decides to -- and does slap his ass. "Man, I need to buy stock in a sheet company." "Yai!" Jim /hops/ forward. Sadly you can't run away from the person riding on your /shoulder/, and like a jigged horse it puts a lively /trot/ into his progress. And he takes his retribution reflexively, smacking Melinda BACK right on the target prestented him. Resounding SPANK. "Where the fuck's the silverware drawer?" He turns around, rotating slowly to let Melinda snag after whatever the hell drawer she's talking about. Melinda lets out a bit of a yelp when her ass is spanked, but it still seems acceptable to her, as no angry words follow. When Jim turns around and starts asking questions, she sort of flails crazily, finding the act of opening a drawer ridiculous from this angle. "Under the coffee pot. Oh hell." She manages and gets the drawer open and finds implement in question. She pushes the drawer closed and raises the simple, yet sturdy corkscrew aloft. "Tally ho, faithful steed! I have it!" "Oh shit shit gah," this is not an efficient form of ANYthing, Jim kind of latched onto Melinda's legs so that her flailing doesn't endin blood and tears, probably passing the drawer too quickly, making Melinda swipe after it and then rotates back for her to riffle around while commenting, "/Whinney/." He just says it, does not /bray/ it. No onomatopoeia here. He strides out of the kitchen like he's /mad/, hauling his burden and swinging his fist around the bottle. If her door is ajar, he's kicking it open. Or maybe he bootie-bumps it. With MEL'S ASS. The door is indeed ajar! The room is relatively clean, but it shows signs that she should really do laundry soon. The bed is made only because it's really easy to make a bed by pulling a comforter back over the top. Mel reaches over and flicks on the light switch. "Watch out, you're goin' down," Jim catches the door, boot it shut with the back of a heel, and with a toss-hop forward projects Melinda onto her bed. He hands her he bottle to go about /opening/. Because, sadly, he won't be imbibing. AA is a bitch. Luckily, there's other such priviliages that being a man in full control of himself might enjoy all the sweeter. He works his shoulders out of his jacket like a /cobra/, tosses it aside. And climbs onto the bed. It goes 'creak'. He grins. LATER... There's a mess of rumpling noises and the grouchy sound of a bed adjusting to two people's body weight. Shift. Shift! Then quiet for a while, inane stupid conversation between bouts of quiet, the sizzle of two cigarettes burning down in the wan light of a twilit bedroom. Then other shifting, slower, and with sighs of breath. Eventually, here lounges Jim, on his back with possibly a casual arm tossed around Melinda's shoulders, blowing wavering smoke rings at the ceiling with his mouth in the necessary O-shape to form them. "-hah. That one's a good one." A proper ring can hold its shape for an impressive length of time as it lazily pinwheels away, falling apart gradually as it rises. "Indeed," Melinda replies, sleepy-eyed and somewhat drunk, both with the pleasure of the physical and the three quarters bottle of merlot she either spilled or drank during earlier activities. She mostly watches her cigarette burn, trying not to ash upon Jim's bare chest, not because she's too drunk to forget about the ashtray, but because she doesn't have the best concept of time right now and those cigarettes burn whether you remember them or not. "Very nice." Her cheek presses against his shoulder until it's time to pull away and take another drag. "I can't even comprehend how to make smoke do that. Is it a tongue trick?" "Nah, it's the mouth," Jim kind of puts Melinda in a headlock every time he has to reach for his cigarette, pull it from his mouth, exhale, put it back, and then it's just draped again. "Y' fill up your mouth and when you blow out," this time, it's a little clumsy because he was talking, twisting over into a malformed oval of smoke that twists for a single moment into an infinity loop and then just shatters apart, "Bah. Well, you get the idea." He pats her arm when he says it, jostling her against him, openy appreciative of the smell of woman and wine and cigarettes and bedsheets. "Shane's not still workin' for you, is he?" He blurts out, randomly. Melinda snuffs out her cigarette in the ash tray and wraps her arm around Jim a little more intentionally, eyes falling completely closed. "It'll be a week tomorrow - he stopped showing up for work. I've left a voicemail, but..." She shakes her head, arm hugging Jim a little closer. "Thought they'd feel safe there. Kind of worried they don't feel safe anywhere now." There's a quiet pause and finally, "Silly to think a coffee shop could be a refuge." "I dunno," Jim contends, because he's /contentious/, "People hide out in cafes a lot. Read books. Do work. It's quiet." Also, coffee. "Just gotta give 'em time. I guess Shelby broke up with Sebastian - he's probably having a sharksulk somewhere. Hard to think all this is 'cause of a bee sting." It's not derisive in tone; it's poking for humor if anything, mussing with Melinda's hair. SCRUB SCRUB. "You talked to any the old loft crew? I been kinda busy; see Hivey off and on but kinda behind on what's up with the others." "Oh, I guess I see them from time to time, but conversations are mostly superficial. I don't really know if I'm much part of the crew, or if they kind of view me as the 'mom' and they'd like to let go of the apron strings now that they are more on their own." Mel's face presses more against Jim's chest as he scrubs at her hair, a teensy bit uncomfortable with the mussing. "Saw Jax when I went out to do some gardening with Micah. He's running hot again, guess it makes sense if the twins haven't been in contact with him. Man, I can't imagine..." Eventually, she moves her hand up to grab Jim, and shows him how to stroke her hair instead of muss. "I'm going to make you brush that out later." "Hah. That's what you think." Jim grunts, impossible to tell if he's kidding or flat out REJECTING this 'threat'. By this point, when Melinda's face goes to press harder against his chest, it has plenty of room to press through because it's idly pulling away, his arm uncurling from behind her head. Reclaiming his own side of the bed and pushing himself into sit-up. Melinda sighs and curls up in the body heat he leaves behind on the mattress. She stretches out the next minute, taking over all of the bed. "Well, it would be only fair. Kind of a sense of responsibility thing - you mess it up, you fix it." She shrugs and pulls away from a strongly wine smelling splotch. Her face crinkles. "I should probably drink water." "Oh my holy Christ." Jim mutters, swinging his legs lazily off the bed. and sitting there for a moment, kind of just peer around the room while he scratches at his rib cage. He hauls himself to his feet to head for the bathroom. "Fuck, Jim, it's a joke, okay? I thought you liked it when I was bossy." Mel may have her eyes on his ass as he walks away. "Arrgh," Jim growls a full DISMISSAL of this entire conversation, closing the bathroom door behind him. A few minutes later, he returns, hooking up his pants from the ground and giving them a shaking out. When Jim returns, Melinda is sitting up in bed, pillows lodged behind her back to make her comfortable. She's still naked, with a sheet pulled up just to give her lower half a tiny bit of modesty. She's stolen another cigarette from Jim's pack and has it lit and perched between the first two fingers on her left hand. Her right hand is wrapped around the neck of the bottle of merlot, which she is just finishing off. She puts it on the night stand carefully and takes another drag off her cigarette as Jim starts shaking out his trousers. "Thanks for coming over. You're fucking amazing." She sounds sincere and perhaps a little lusty. "You steal one of my smokes?" Did Jim even /hear/ her last comment? Yanking on his pants, he seems more amused (bemused? /offended/? territorial of his shit?) by this fact than. "Yes. If it's so bad, I'll go buy some of my own tomorrow." Mel takes another drag and then extends her hand toward him. She blows out the smoke before saying, "Do you want it back?" "Keep it," Jim grins cornerwise, shrugging into his undershirt, and fastening the front of his button-up. "Wait there, huh?" He wanders out of the room, returning a moment later with a glass of water, which he leaves on the table by the bed before sitting down to pull on socks. SILENTLY. It makes the gathering up of the material absurdly loud in the room. "Okay." Mel waits, quietly smoking, pulling the sheets up more when she remains alone in the room. She also pulls the comforter over her feet. She is content to watch for a while, before speaking up. "Are you that worried about the twins?" Concern starts etching her forehead. "--huh?" Jim glances over his shoulder, brows twisted up in complete lack of comprehension. Which may as well just be called budding-annoyance. "We were talking about them and then you were off. I guess I kind of assumed you felt you had to go look or something." Melinda finishes her cigarette and starts to extract herself from bed. She grabs her bathrobe from behind the door and starts slipping into it. She tuuggss her hair from out of the bathrobe's embrace and moves over to her dresser to find her brush. "Oh," Jim makes a snerk, though it's grim, "Nah. I mean, I'm not just -- /not/ worried. But not a lot I can do but just keep an ear out.I just got other things t'do. This uh," He flaps his remaining shoe at the bed, the expanse between them, Melinda herself. The shoelaces make quiet whipping noiess. "This was fun, by the way. Good time." "Thanks," Melinda gives a small smile and lets out a sigh as the brush gets tangled in her hair. She starts lower on the clump she is working on, working up toward her scalp again. "You know, you can call, if you want to do something like this again. I'm having fun, Jim, and you're welcome here." "Just can't get enough, huh?" Jim has a rather scratchy laugh, "Yeah, I might. Maybe next time you can visit me over in old House Morgan." He has his shoes on and is all up and dressed like a real boy. He crosses the room to drop a whiskery-shaven smooch on her forehead. "Drink the water." The one he so generously GOT for her. Melinda grabs him by the collar and pulls him in for a real kiss, holds it for a half minute then lets him go. "You bet I can't get enough." And then she slaps his ass and squeezes it. "Have a good night, Jim."