Treasure the good moments, learn from the bad ones... and the weird ones make good stories after the fact.
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...I still have this perfect picture locked in my mind, three images out of the millions that could have been stored from this weekend, three that I've copied to every fragment, stored every place I can think of (or think IN, to be more precise), three images that I desperately hope I never forget.
The first: watching out of the corner of my eyes as Angel smiled tolerantly at me while I meowed at a couple of children who had been dragged into the shop by their parents. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor half-behind the counter, catface on, drawing on my arm, nibbling on saltwater taffy, basically killing time until she was done working. She was behind the counter, helping customers, and glancing at me almost as often as I was glancing at her. *grins fondly* It was oddly peaceful.
The second: the way her body arched, this perfect split-second flash of her, eyes closed, fists clenched on the sheets, hips lifting and that amazing, sensuous curve to her back. I am still blown away by how beautiful she is, y'know - she's not scary-thin, but she is definitely slender, tall, graceful, curved... mmm, delicious curves... ok. Must stop that train of thought, if I get too worked up there is massive pain followed by unconsciousness.
The third: my Mark drawn on her skin, black ink edged with a rich wine-red tone, sharp, clear, perfectly drawn... and the look of pleasure on her face as I put it there.
So yeah. The weekend involved a lot of frustration, and pain, and worry, and stress, and confusion, and was generally complicated...
...and I regret NOTHING. ^.^
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