The Blog of Lone

Or should that be intent?  Who knows.  This is where I’m finally going to post a little of my novel, in the hope of you, the ppls out there in the real world, helping me a bit.  I need feedback peeps.  The extract is from a love scene (hence the post’s title) and I need to knwo what you all think.  Too graphic?  Not graphic enough?  Cliched? etc etc.  Please leave me some comments on this, I’d really appreciate your thoughts.  Plus it’s a good chance to criticise me about something I’m actually going to listen about! (I know that’s going to appeal to more than  afew of you out there!)

And here it is……

The crest of the hill peaked a meter or so into the fragrant trees and the small wood continued down the back of the hill into a shallow valley.  We sat on the leafy soil, resting our backs against a tree trunk, cradled in its roots we were able to look out over the houses and gardens of Arlington and the surrounding hilly countryside patched irregularly with golden, green or brown fields, shaded by the rhythmic movement of light and shadow of the swaying branches above us from the brilliant sky.  Birdsong sporadically broke out around us and the whisper of the trees in a gentle breeze only accentuated the sense of stillness and silence that surrounded us.  Sitting surrounded by the tree roots Jackie and I were close enough for me to hear her breathing, and I knew that I wanted to hold her, share a kiss again, but I also realised that today she was as melancholy and withdrawn as she had been teasing and flirtatious last night.  Seconds slowly melted away as we both just sat staring out across the countryside while the shadow patterns of leaves played about us.  I knew I had to risk it.  To let a moment like this pass and forever wonder about could have been would be to waste something irretrievable.  There was so much I wanted to tell her, so much that words could never really express.  I gently slid my arm around her shoulders, feeling her sun-warmed skin against my own, and leaning in kissed her cheek tenderly, almost just brushing her face with my lips.  Before I could move, she turned suddenly, grabbing my face with her hands, kissing me so passionately that it hurt.  Frantically I wrapped her up in my arms, pulling her against me, feeling the heat of her body melt into mine, returning the kiss with the same ferocious intensity.  Our tongues intertwined, she pulled and bit at my lip while she tugged at my t-shirt, only breaking off our kiss to pull it roughly over my shoulders.  We rolled to the leafy ground, her astride me, hastily pulling off her white t-shirt and flinging it aside to surprisingly reveal she wasn’t wearing a bra.  I awkwardly tugged down my trousers and boxers.  Pausing for a only a second, she put her hand inside her short red skirt, untying a bow in the side of her lacy white underwear to drop it to the ground without removing her skirt.  Cupping her small pert breasts in my hands, with a swift intake of breath I pulled her quickly down onto myself, pushing a small moan from her open mouth.  As we began to make frantic, desperate, love I remember clearly the leafy shadows and scraps of light dancing liquidly across our skin; then she leant down to kiss me once more and I closed my eyes as her lips met mine.

The first time it was needy, fast, rough and passionate.  She scratched, raking at my shoulders and chest with her nails, she bit, leaving imperfect little red O’s across my shoulders and neck, she pulled at me with a physical need that surprised me with in its intensity.  Afterwards we collapsed side by side, filled with a euphoric mix of bliss and exhaustion.  It was a long time before either of us spoke, we just lay panting heavily, staring upwards through the gaps in the branches to the shifting sky above us.  Eventually she rolled over, laying an arm across my chest and a leg over mine as she nestled her face into my shoulder.  I didn’t want to ruin this moment, but I knew that if there was going to be anytime to talk about what I’d noticed in my few lucid moments of our passion, it was now.

  “The scars on your legs.  How’d you get them?”  I didn’t look down at the little red lines ridging the top of her thigh, I just kept staring up at the uncaring sky.

  “I did it myself.” She said with an edge of anger, without looking up at me.  Then she sighed, and in a small voice that sounded younger than normal said, “Sometimes when things get the worst and I think about what it would be like if I just took myself away from all of this, I’d cut myself.  I did it on my thigh so no one’d see, it’s not a cry for help or anything, it just makes me feel better, releases something inside me.  Even you probably can’t understand.”

I felt her shift slightly on my chest, as if somehow withdrawing into herself.

  “Look at my arms.”

I felt her head turn downwards to look at my right arm and I brought it across my stomach to let her see better.  She took a deep breath and slowly exhaled it in a sigh very different from the last.  The arm across my chest slid down to rest across my stomach; she gently brushed her fingers over my arm, across the mixture of raised angry red recent cuts and the flatter purple lines of bitter old scars.

The second time it was slower.  I lay on top of her, stretching her gently, while we watched each other with intimate eyes and kissed with heavy lips.