The Night Is Calling Part One by Lady Tora

The Night is Calling (Part One)


I got home from work late Friday night; it was already dark.  I shut the door of my condo and just leaned my back against it, closing my eyes.  Hell it had been a long week.  I kicked off my heels and shrugged out of my coat, letting them lie in the hall for now.  I didn’t bother turning on any lights.  I really didn’t have to since the full moon and brightness of the city lights flooded my home like it was noon hour.

I stalked into the kitchen, convinced that I was starving and found some left over Chinese food takeout in the fridge.  I sniffed at it.  How sad is it that I couldn’t remember when I had picked this up?  Was it Tuesday?  I sighed and stuffed the container into the microwave.  Well it didn’t smell bad and even if anything was brewing in it, I am sure the radiation would neutralize it.  The microwave binged and I leaned against my kitchen counter, stuffing my face with noodles as I glanced out at the city again, watching the lights and whatever goings on I could see.

I tossed the empty food container in the garbage and walked over to the nearest window.  I leaned my length against it, feeling the need to watch the city more.  What was I searching for?  Was I expecting to see something?  Why was I so restless?  Normally after such a work week I was exhausted and just wanted to have a hot bath, a good cup of tea and curl up in my bed with either a good book or some mindless TV or movie.

I snorted.  Who was I fooling?  Sure I wanted all of that but I was leaving out one critical detail.  Him.  I wanted my boy to draw my bath the way I liked, bring me my cup of tea, fuss over me, massage my feet and maybe, just maybe get me in the mood for whatever other pleasure came to my tired mind.  I sighed.  Well that wasn’t an option anymore and hadn’t been for what, almost two months now.  Not since he left.

I turned away from the window and went to pick up my jacket and heels.  I put them away and walked across the room to flop on the couch, turning on the TV.  I flipped through the channels for a few minutes before switching it off and leaning back against the cushions more, crossing my legs, twitching, restless.  I chewed on my bottom lip.  What was my problem tonight?  It couldn’t be that I missed him.   I mauled on the thought.  Nope, I didn’t miss him as much as I missed the idea of him.  Well to hell with that.

I pushed myself up from the couch and began pacing in front of the windows.  My fingers tapped rapid tattoos against my thighs as I did.  I stopped and glanced at my watch for the time.  I chewed on my lip and looked at the city again.  If I moved my ass, I could make it to the club in time.  I moved into my room, flipping on the light, throwing open my closet, searching what to wear.

30 minutes later I paused to look at myself in my hallway mirror, impressed that I was able to make myself appear this good again in such little time.  I grabbed my black leather jacket, my toy bag and my keys before heading to the garage, the heels of my black leather boots clicking on the cement.  The night was calling and it was whispering to me softly, “Come and play”.

To be continued...