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Lyrics And Fictional Story- Hurricane, 30stm

"No matter how many times that you told me you wanted to leave
No matter how many breaths that you took you still couldn't breathe"

"That's it!" I yelled, screaming and beating my fists against his chest. "I can't take it any more."
He growled and held my wrists with a firm grip, pincing them like a crab clutching its prey beneath two large claws.
"Just let me go!" My shouts turned into sobs as I my assalt relented, eventually collapsing with my body against his warm torso. Tears rolled down my face and my choking cries were only slightly muffled by his starched shirt against my cheek.
You could hear him sigh a small sigh as he released me from his grip and clutched me tightly, yet tenderly, in his arms.
"Maria," His voice was weary with exertion. I oft needed to remind myself that he was much older than I and I ought to spare him these emotional outbursts. "If you need to leave, leave."

"No matter how many nights that you'd lie wide awake to the sound of the poison rain"

He lay in the bed next to me, snoring, completely oblivious to my restlessness. I tossed and turned, trying my best to drift off into the oblivion, however the persistent pounding of rain kept me awake.
Thud, a-thud, a-thud.
The sound was not unlike a drum, rhythmic against the steel roof, pounding in a hypnotic fashion, keeping me in that not awake nor asleep state, cursing me for my sins.
I lay in bed next to a married man.

"Where did you go?
Where did you go?
Where did you go?"

I must've fallen asleep, for I awoke alone and shivering, the blanket on the floor for some reason or another. Of course he had to leave. His lovely wife and two kids expected him to be home so that they can call him "Daddy", "Darling" and other saccharine and unbearably sweet thoughts. Much too much to think about during that pounding headache I nursed in the morning. Despite not drinking a single drop of alcohol, as we came to a mutual agreement beforehand that we should not be involved with each other other under the influence, I had a migrane stronger than the times I woke up after passing out from either consuming the vile liquid of alcohol, or smashing my head on an iron rail or whatnot.
I felt around my bedside table, finally finding that glass of water on my cabinet with a little hand-scribbled note that he made for me, detailing the excuses he had for leaving me alone. It was promptly shredded to pieces.
My body ached from the night before and as I stretched, the memories flooded back to me.

"As the days go by the night's on fire"

"Jeremy." My eyes were glittering deviously. "You play the most seductive, beautiful music on your bass guitar."
He smiled innocently. "Why, thanks. You dance quite well yourself."
I tilted my head inconspicuously to one side in acknowledgement. "And such an accomplished man such as yourself would surely have a lovely wife?"
His smile flickered in and out, before settling with: "It's a little complicated. You see, we aren't actually together anymore."
I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "Really?"
"Yeah. We are planning on separating as soon as we can sort out the issue with the kids." He shrugged, the movement showing off his sinewy muscles beneath his shirt. Being in a jazz band, he naturally had to dress to the nines and had his hair obediently combed to one side, looking dapper and impeccably classy.
I couldn't stop staring at the length of his nose. Surely a nose like that would give promising results down under? He noticed me staring at his groin and chuckled a little before pulling me close to him and nuzzling me in the neck.
"You're beautiful, you know that?"
There was no stopping the illicit groan that escaped my mouth as I inhaled his scent, turned on by it, as I rubbed myself up against him. A sensation not unlike pleasurable fire-ant stings erupted from my nether regions, spreading like a disease across the rest of my body.
That was when I knew that I needed that man inside me. I needed to feel him rough in my body and I needed him.

"Tell me, would you kill to save a life?
Tell me, would you kill to prove you're right?"

The next night I met him was not unlike the first, nor the one after. It was only two weeks later when one of us decided to make a more serious move. Him, of course. He pushed me against the wall, ground up against me, whispered sweet nothings while desperately seeking his release.
I found it interesting how his hair would fall into disarray after his fervent actions, and he'd try to rearrange it to the best of his ability, always failing to do so. At one stage, I do recall that he muttered about how his wife always does his hair, and I remember storming out of the restaurant in a rage, unable to hear his titillating solo's and amazing style that had so enraptured me beforehand.
"What's wrong?" He asked me in all naivety, after I had returned and recovered my cool, or so to speak.
I shoved him gently away from me as he tried to wrap his arms around me. "Don't you feel that guilt? That guilt from cheating on your wife!"
He sighed and let his arms fall to his side. "I told you. I don't love her that way, anymore." I turned away from him and he clasped my wrist with his hand, pulling me back.
"But you won't leave her." I stated bluntly, tugging away from his grip, only to have him pull me firmly into his embrace.
"But I need you." He said, kissing me passionately. His actions awoke the beast inside me and I pounced on him, responding with fervour.
We parted, breathless, as he asked me where I lived. I told him.

"Crash, crash
Burn, let it all burn
This hurricane's chasing us all underground"

We barely made it through the door, our hands on each other, trying desperately to undress yet retain our physical proximity. I pushed him to the floor. He pulled off my dress. I took off his belt. He pulled off my knickers.
There was a grunt somewhere as I was picked up and thrust against the wall. Kinky.
Snap. Something broke. Swearing. I nearly poked his eye out. Groaning. His steel rod was in my mouth. Moaning. And he ate me out with an expert tongue.
"You are on the pill?" He asked, poised at my entrance, thrusting gently.
"Nope." I said. And I didn't care at that time. I needed him to be in me. I needed this exchange of fluids, the intimate connection.
He swore and rolled off, pulling protection out of his wallet.
I lay panting, awaiting for this thing I have waited years for. "Ummm..." I said, hesitating as I thought about whether or not he should know. "This is my first time."
He looked at me disbelievingly, his hair partially obscuring his vision as he fumbled the condom.
"Honestly." I said, and I felt ready to give him my all, to give everything to him. And I had no idea why.
His actions slowed and became more gentle, there were more caresses, nibbling, subtle touches and strokes, evoking a slower burning yet nevertheless fiery passion building up inside my body.
He waited until I was screaming for him to be in me, when he penetrated me, knowing how to excite me, as I writhed underneath his body.
I awoke alone.

"No matter how many deaths that I die I will never forget
No matter how many lives that I live I will never regret"

My dress was fashioned to impress. I had every pair of eyes on my body as I seductively drew my body down the banister, flitting from males to females, giving each lap dances, flirting excessively with my eyes and instigating false promises to desperate men. I only needed to impress on person, and that man was staring at me with amused eyes as I shimmied down with a group of giggling females my age. He looked at me and winked. I smiled and ran my fingers through my hair tugging my head back, exposing my neck, closing my eyes and groaning as I ran my hot fingers over my body. My eyes opened and found his, glinting with an unspeakable passion in them. He sipped his drink, making sure to tongue the straw while maintaining eye contact and raising an eyebrow.
I could not wait for the break.

"There is a fire inside of this heart and a riot about to explode into flames"

At the half-times break, he looked at me much like a vicious tiger eyeing up a small, delectable rabbit cowering in the corner. Predatory. And it was such a turn on.
"Hello, stranger." I said, stroking his arm, stroking his face, kissing him gently.
"Hello, Maria." His voice was husky with desire. "And how are you doing today?"
"Splendid, of course. You like my dress?" I twirled around, before grinding up against him.
He took a sharp breath. "Yes. I do, my dear."
My heart skipped a beat at the endearment.
"But I'd much rather see you out of it." And he nuzzled me again.
Somehow, I felt my stomach plummet when he kissed me tenderly. What was wrong with me? Surely, I'd be happy with what we have? Surely, I wouldn't desire more?
Would I?

"Where is your God?
Where is your God?
Where is your God?"

I never wanted to go to church. It was nothing against religion itself, perse, it was more my own reservations about commitment that made me rebel against the masses.
But at that time, I found myself praying to an entity in the world above the clouds. I prayed to have the strength to leave this man, to leave him while I still had whatever remained of my sanity. I wanted more from his unexplainable creature with messy hair and beautiful fingers that brought me to a different sort of heaven every time he touched me in intimate places.
He was married. And he had a wife. And he had kids. He had a family. He said he would leave them.
But what would he know? He truly was a despicable creature, at the epitome of soulless animals with only lust as his master. Yet he was a beautifully cruel creature. His innocent, guiltless eyes and equally innocent laughter, deceptive and hurtful.

"Do you really want?"

Did he really want this? Did he really want to screw me roughly against the wall, have meaningless interactions for the sake of fun against his wife? Was I merely a plaything for this creature to toy with and then toss away?

"Do you really want me?"

He'd stroke my face with tenderness and then toss excuses in the air, before promising me that he'd love me, that he'd care for me, that he needs me. But did he need me at all? Did he need this little, fun-loving teenager, less than half his age, to stay with him? Who was I kidding.

"Do you really want me dead or alive
To torture for my sins?"

Heh. He, no doubt, wanted me to live in regret for what we had done. The pleasure that we derived from our deviances, from the inexplicable need for carnal flesh.

"Do you really want?
Do you really want me?
Do you really want me dead or alive
To live a lie?"

We were at the restaurant again, I was listening to him play jazz with his fellow band members. The night was fairly uneventful until the end. I think that both he and I could tell that we both needed to talk. His shirt was untucked this evening and I felt the strange urge to tuck it in for him, which I bit back viciously.
"Hello, Maria." His voice was solemn as he loosened his tie, unsuccessfully.
I placed my hands on his chest and slowly and methodically undid his tie, before trailing my hands down his chest and to my side.
"Hello, Jeremy." My voice was shaky and apparently so was my body as he held my shoulders gently yet firmly.
"We need to-" He started.
"I know!" I nearly shouted. "Heck, what have we done?"
He sighed. "It's not that, it's just that I need to talk."
"No, I can't. I can't." I was in near hysterics. I shook myself out of his grasp. "Don't touch me!"
He growled angrily. "This was not the person I fell in love with!"
My eyes opened wide as saucers for a brief second. "What? Don't-I-can't." I stuttered incomprehensibly. "You are not... Don't."
He banged his fist on the table. "So what if it is a sin? So what if you are much younger than I? I need you! But if you continue to act like a child, drawing these illogical and extravagant conclusions as well as throwing these tantrums, I can't deal with that!"
There was muttering all around from all the other tables. He lowered his voice promptly.
"Look, when I met you, you made it feel as if age is not a factor." His voice was barely above a whisper.
"But then, I got to know you. And now, it just isn't going to work. This proves that." He left me sobbing uncontrollably on the tabletop.

"The promises we made were not enough
The prayers that we had prayed were like a drug"

I did not see him for the next six weeks. It was torturous to me. And in that time, I got to contemplate how much one doesn't realise the importance of someone or something, until it is taken abruptly form you. To me, he was like that. I had fallen in love with him, I had fallen in love with his body, his music, his soul. I happened to walk past him on the street once. He was playing with one of his kids and laughing with his wife, the epitome of "happy families". It took me another three more weeks to accept the fact that he didn't want to be with me, that the words he said to me were lies, and that he wasn't at all ready for another commitment. It took me half a year on top of that to realise that I was simply blaming him for something that we both committed. And that I was equally guilty.
He had a family. And we both knew that he could never commit to me, ever. It was just a distant fantasy that both of us desired, but not enough to live through.

"The secrets that we sold were never known
The love we had, the love we had
We had to let it go"

I returned to the restaurant. It had been a year since I last saw him, and I was dressed up prettily, as usual. He was dressed to the nines, as usual. I felt different. I probably looked very different, hopefully more mature. He caught my eye and stared at me, his expression unfathomable. I tilted my head to one side, questioning, before smiling at him, a pure, unadulterated smile. He smiled back and waved. I waved back. His wife was sitting at a distant table, telling her kids to be quiet as they messed about with their food.

I didn't wait for the break to leave.


~FICTIONAL~!!! It started off being based on my past experiences but deviated quickly as I change the personalities of both characters to be more suave, more realistic, and more explosive. To anyone who reads this and thinks: "Hmm... realistic ending." I will have to say that it isn't. If I wrote about reality, it would seem twice as fantastic as this story. I'm sorry?

Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it. This was inspired by the phrase: "Do you really want? Do you really want me? Do you really want me dead or alive to torture for my sins?" Which I thought was an exceptionally outstanding line that illustrated how adding words onto an incomplete sentence can change preconceptions of the original phrase. Sort of the moral behind this pseudo-story. Every person has a preconception about one thing or another, and as the story develops, both the characters discover how their preconceived notions of affairs, relationships and love can be altered by adding a little more.
fastsandslash fastsandslash 18-21, F Dec 29, 2012

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