Music Rocks My World
I won't blather on with details like I did last Monday. If you want to see what this is about, you can find them in this post.
One of my favorite bands - I write a lot of scenes to NIN. Trent Reznor is one talented man, and beyond amazing live. I have no idea how he manages to take words, phrases and insinuations that are raw and deep, and often pure animalistic (pun intended - see song link if you don't get it) sex, and molds them into absolute sensuality, but I'd sure love to. (Okay, this isn't one of his more sensual songs.)
My whole existence is flawed
You get me closer to God
Through every forest, above the trees
Within my stomach, scraped off my knees
I drink the honey inside your hive
You are the reason I stay alive
Nine Inch Nails - Closer NSFW/Kids
This one is an already written scene, and the above song was playing as I wrote it in my head. Originally I planned to use it as my example for my Description through Emotion and Action, but it got nixed.
The humid air in the bathroom fogged the floor-to-ceiling mirror. I used a hand towel to wipe a circle in the middle and leaned forward to apply mascara. The candles flickered and dimmed in the whoosh of air.
“That dress is way too long.” My husband stood behind me, rubbing a towel over his hair; dark and wavy in its shower-wet state.
Seven years and the rollercoaster still raced through my belly. I couldn’t look away. Beads of water plopped onto the cherry hardwoods beneath him.
He stepped forward, close enough to warm my back and legs.
“It’s not even halfway to my knees.” I widened my eyes and second-coated the upper lashes.
The material tickled the backs of my thighs as his fingers slid the silk up and over the curve of my bottom. His soft fingertips drew out tiny bumps on my flesh. The silver dress shimmered in the light of the candles, glinting like hundreds of diamonds off the nickel makeup tray below. His body pushed against me.
I closed my eyes and the candles lit a red glow behind my lids. My hips tapped a cadence--familiar, in tune, always--against the rounded edge of the counter.
I opened my eyes and smiled into my own face, raking teeth across the slippery sheen on my lower lip. My toes dug into the shag throw rug and I wrapped the fingers of one hand around the high arch of the pewter faucet. The other hand slid down the mirror, leaving a black streak of mascara in its wake. I dropped the wand into the sink and reached behind to feel his hot stomach under my cool palm.
His weight pressed my belly onto the marble vanity. I shivered, but not from cold. Our gazes locked through the mirror. Cinnamon and vanilla mingled in the air and the candle flames danced in his eyes, creating the golden-brown glow that illuminated my world.
The framed photo of his acoustic honey-stained guitar played peek-a-boo over his shoulder, keeping perfect time to Nine Inch Nails on the stereo. He grinned--that unfocused goofy grin I knew so well--and his palm landed onto the mirror, squeaking as it barely moved; up and down. Up and down.
I ran my hand up his side, out and along the bottom of his arm. My fingers twined into his and squeezed hard. He dropped his head to the back of mine, mouth brushing my neck, heart thumping against my back.
He slipped the looped-metal strap of the dress down to my arm and bent to nip my shoulder, breath ragged against it.
“Yep. Much better short.”