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 Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:18 pm
The buzz of her cell phone on the side table drew Gwen’s attention away from the sketch pad on her lap which the doodle of a flower and some random non descript bugs were panning out. She’d not been all that devoted to the subjects so promptly put her pencil down to rest between her stomach and the pad as she reached over to the pink and white cased galaxy. A few quick swipes of the screen and Gwen read over the text message and sighed. The text was from one of her friends saying to meet at at 9pm. That’s right. I am suppose to go to the bar tonight with the girls and hang out. A quick glance at the time told her she had about two and a half hours to get ready.
With a slight groan she plopped the phone back onto the table next to her and laid her head back against the couch. Really all she wanted to do was stay in and relax. The idea of sitting at the bar while he friends poked and prodded her into talking with random guys or talking about their own boyfriends was not something Gwen was really in the mood for. Still, she placed the sketch pad and pencil on the couch next to her before getting up. Maybe getting ready would help?
So, going through the usual motions, Gwen changed into her robe in her bedroom, ran a brush through her hair to dislodge any knots, and headed into the bathroom to shower. As always, showering took a good half an hour until she managed to shampoo and condition her hair and then take care of shaving and washing. When she got out though, she felt better for it, if still not quite sure she was ready to get dressed for a night out or dressed in her pajamas.
After drying off she threw her robe on, tying it around her waist before tackling the job that was drying her hair. Drying her hair all the way was just a tedious, boring job of flipping her head this way and that to try and hit every point of her scalp and hair. By the time it was about 80% dry she was over the process and turned the hair dryer off before storing it back in the little basket under the sink. A few other hair tools sat in the tan wicker basket, mainly the basics including a hair straightener and a curling wand. She didn’t need much more really.
With some sort of semblance going on with her hair, Gwen opened the bathroom door. Steam filtered out into the living room which Isaiah was now occupying and whom Gwen got startled by considering she hadn’t heard him. Normally she could hear just about anything when in the bathroom. The walls were fairly thin. “God…” She breathed out. “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were in here. I couldn’t hear anything over the hairdryer.”
She stood there for a moment and bit her lip in contemplation. “So...I got invited out tonight with some of my friends. We’re suppose to head to the bar but really...I don’t know if I even want to go out.” Truthfully, Gwen was looking for any excuse to reason not going out and was hoping Isaiah would bite and help her out. Maybe he planned on staying in tonight as well and wanted company? Or perhaps something needed to be taken care of? In truth, the young woman was pulling at strings. Without a reasonable excuse she knew she’d end up going if only not to feel guilty for flaking out on plans.
While Gwen set about the routine of readying herself for a night out, Isaiah spent the better part of an hour in the kitchen while meticulously cataloguing the nutritional value and caloric content of its many staple foods. He then took a seat amongst the many cushy pillows of the couch, reclined on one of the few fringed pillows, and started through his long list to organize which should be eaten and which should be avoided. He put on a significant amount of weight since he left off his dieting scheme, leaving him at a robust 140 at his height of 5’ 10”. This, he decided, sat ill with him. It needed to change, and he thought of no better means than the caloric control he exerted previously.
When she spoke, Isaiah looked up from the heavily marked notepad. There she stood in next to nothing, and Isaiah exercised some highly polished mental evasion to avoid imagining her naked instead of responding (luckily, not much imagination was required when he remembered it clearly). Donning a polite smile, he shrugged. “Looks like you startled yourself more than you startled me.” Feet raised and braced against the coffee table as he pushed himself into a lounging position.
Her statement prompted a quirk of brow. Did she want feedback, his opinion, a listening ear? Isaiah was uncertain, as he and Gwen only recently grew more acquainted with each other. With a shrug, he set his notebook aside. “If I were you, I’d go. Even if it doesn’t sound like a grand idea, it lifts the spirits more than sitting at home.” Besides, bars often meant hookups or new friends, and Isaiah seldom passed up either. Gwen had the opportunity at meeting new people herself here, and Isaiah thought it a keen plan to ease some of her loneliness. She lamented not having many friends in the city, hadn’t she?
“A bar, right?” After a joint-popping stretch, Isaiah stood. “Let me do your makeup. You won’t be sorry, I promise.”
Well, the hope she had that Isaiah would give her an out were dashed. It wasn’t all that surprising really considering how much time he spent out and about in the evenings. So she would suck it up and deal with the plans for the night, happy or not. Maybe he was right? A night out with friends may do her some good, but truthfully, Gwen just wanted to relax. She was still adjusting to her new life as a defender of Destiny City, or whatever it all was, and her body very much just wanted her to veg. Ah well. She would only need to make face tonight and if her mood didn’t pick up she could slip out early.
Now, Isaiah’s offer to do her make-up was a bit surprising. Gwen typically just stuck to the bare essentials which included nude eyeshadow and mascara. She barely fussed with anything else unless the occasion called for it and a night out with friends, bar or not, did not call for it. She wasn’t heading out to impress anyone tonight, and considering the one she wanted to impress wasn’t going to be there, well… “I don’t know. I mean it’s just the bar with the girls. And I mean, I’ve never had anyone do my makeup before…” Despite her bad mood about going, the offer was still very much appreciated and Gwen offered Isaiah a playful grin. “Maybe…” After all, if she let him do it he’d get to see it right? What has gotten into me? I feel like I am acting like some shy sixteen year old with a crush.
Not giving Isaiah a yay or nay to the idea in her indecision, Gwen headed into her bedroom to pick out something to wear. It was getting to that time of year where picking out clothes was not the most simple things to do. It could be fairly warm during the day but be freezing by the evening or vice versa. Layers were her going to be her friend. So she opted for a cap sleeved, purple drape neck blouse, dark wash blue jeans, and a three quarter length black blazer.
The door had been left slightly ajar out of habit for Reilly as the little sheltie has a habit of checking up on his owner when she left his sight. And, like expected, the dog poked his nose in to make sure Gwen was all well and good. A gentle pat on the head, and a scratch behind the ear was enough to make Reilly happy and the dog padded back out of the room, leaving Gwen standing there to assess her choice of outfit. “Maybe I should have chosen something different.” She mused. Maybe I should get Isaiah to pick it out for me. Though she feared whatever he chose for her would not be what she’d be comfortable wearing out with her friends at the bar. It was bad enough that they tried to hook her up with random guys when she wasn’t all done up. She could only imagine what they’d be like if she showed up looking like she wanted to find a date.
Deciding that what she had on would have to work, Gwen proceeded to pair up a long gold necklace and a set of earrings that managed not to disappear amongst her voluminous hair. Heaving a sigh she gave herself one last look in the mirror before walking out of the bedroom.
Holding out her arms she looked at Isaiah. “Well?”
While Gwen retreated to her bedroom, Isaiah continued his seemingly unending set of calculations. He found, through his long days of research and refining, that estimating one’s metabolic capabilities against the declared caloric content of a food label was an immensely tedious process, and one that looked effectively frivolous. The cluster of documentaries concerning nutrition labels and tests against actual nutritional content of said mass-produced foodstuffs lingered in the back of his mind nigh constantly, reminding him that his calculations were simply efforts misspent. He knew it as an impossibility to discover the actual amount of calories and nutritional content in any given item, but tried to assuage himself with the law of averages.
He found, particularly in this occasion, that it didn’t work.
Finally Isaiah discarded his pencil altogether and it struck the table with an unceremonious clack. Running a hand through his hair, Isaiah soon tossed his notepad alongside his writing utensil in a momentary fit of frustration. He wondered how he managed to so easily fall into these algorithms before, and if it were possible to continue along that vein again. Perhaps, he pondered, all the attempted calculations were entirely useless. They might provide a marginally more accurate depiction of CICO, and they might themselves burn calories in brain power and anxiety, but they held no more import than that.
Briefly he started into another line of thinking concerning simple dieting processes, mentally weighing the Paleo all-natural gluten-free diet veins against crash diets against the low-fat low-cal recommendations meant to adhere to normal consumption practices, but he found himself interrupted by the very sudden reappearance of his roommate.
Isaiah very nearly startled when she gave her single questioning word. She just teleported right in front of me, just like a Negaverse agent. He stared momentarily, uncomprehendingly, before his mind detached enough from his prior thought process to begin a new one. “Oh, uh... “ He stammered out unhelpfully. Finally he took a moment to look over her outfit in its entirety.
And his opinion, unfortunately, was not the kindest. “You look like you’re dressed to go to an interview. One that hasn’t decided whether it’s business casual or business formal.” Curling a fist, Isaiah rested his chin upon its bony platform. “I think a sweater would go a little better than a blazer, unless you’re going to one of those stuck-up fancy bars where you have to dress like a pretentious shitlord.” He glanced up to her questioningly.
“So, have you decided if I’m doing your makeup?”
Well. I asked for his opinion. That still didn’t stop the feeling of frustration and moodiness that peaked within her at his comment. Unbeknownst to Gwen, Isaiah was going through his own mounting frustrations and two frustrated people usually mixed as well as water and oil. Still, Gwen was determined to see the night through at this point. After all, she had put too much effort in to call it quits now. “So what if I was going to one of those ‘stuck-up fancy bars’? I guess that makes me a ‘pretentious shitlord’?”
And the words were out of her mouth before she even realized it. God damn my temper. She instantly felt bad for snapping at Isaiah. It wasn’t his fault and she damn well knew that. So taking a breath she let it out slowly and ran a hand through her hair to help ease herself. “Sorry.” Walking over to the couch she sat down next to Isaiah leaning into him slightly. “I didn’t mean to snap. Going out with the girls can be stressful sometimes. She smiled lightly.
That was when her eyes caught sight of the notebook on the table and the numerous calculations on them. The amount of math on that one piece of paper was enough to give anyone a headache in her opinion. What in the world is he trying to figure out? Gwen wasn’t quite sure, but then again she couldn’t really study the paper from so far away. Turning her attention back to her roommate she threw an arm across the back of his shoulders and squeezed slightly. “Come on, I’ll let you do my make-up and, if you wouldn’t mind helping, pick out a new outfit for me. You can have full access to my closet since I don’t want to look like a ‘shitlord’.” With a chuckle she unwrapped her arm from him and pushed up from the couch. “We can do my make-up in the bathroom if you’d like. I think the bathroom may be big enough for the two of us..”
Wanting to lighten the mood a bit more, Gwen grabbed hold of Isaiah’s hand and gave him a tug to motivate him from the couch. “Come on. I don’t have all night now.” She grinned.
Isaiah only smiled at her when she retorted so vehemently. Miscommunication and misspeaking was easy enough to identify. “Not at all - but if you were, you’d probably want to stay home before all the hot air being blown around causes you to melt. I’ve been to a few of those places to suck up for sponsorship, and…” Isaiah flatted his lips into a line. “I’d rather spend my day jerking off horses.”
Her apology was waved off with a quick gesture of his hand. “Don’t worry about it; I should’ve phrased that a bit better. Foot-in-mouth isn’t something I can stave off forever.” Her hand across his shoulders felt comfortable, and brought with it a few ideas. Carefully, in case she was ticklish behind the knees, Isaiah slid one of his hands beneath her legs at their bend. He hoisted them afterward, and drew them across his lap. “If I spend a day being all smiles and customer service, then it’s like I’m shitting garbage from my mouth as soon as I get off.” Snaking an arm around the small of her waist, Isaiah slid off the couch somewhat into a brace and hoisted her as best he could. The extra weight he put on converted to muscle quite quickly with his evening occupation, though he lacked the practice of picking others up to do so with much finesse. Still, he managed to avoid stumbling and cracking a shin on the coffee table.
Isaiah started for the bathroom as soon as she made the suggestion for the location. “Alright, good enough. Gives me a break from that headache,” he finished as he nodded back at the notebook on the table. Isaiah started the short venture to the bathroom as he elaborated on his earlier activity. “I thought I’d get back into dieting, and… Well, there’s a lot of calculation that goes into metabolic function and caloric intake. For example, a can of Progresso Tomato Basil soup has a hundred fifty calories in it, but that’s not what you net out of the food. There’s variability on the actual nutritional content since the nutrition facts are just a ballpark, but even if you’re calculating with the one-fifty, you have to take into account calories burnt by consuming it, how much of it is already lost to imperfect digestion, and how quickly it’s absorbed into the body as a liquid. It gets… really complicated, and the math can get long and tedious.”
Once they arrived in the bathroom, Isaiah edged himself toward the light switch and flipped it on by pushing his roommate up against it. Afterward he retired her to the counter of the sink. “Whew. That worked out better than I thought. Now… What to do.” Isaiah leaned against the open door, crossed his arms, and stared her down. Blue eyes, red hair, and I can dress her however I want. How do I want to do this. Blue eyes are hard to work with without defaulting to browns. But… Oh, I know what to do. Pressing hands together, he popped his fingers almost entirely at once. “I know exactly what to do. I should have everything I need, too.” The colors he considered were the lesser used of an old palette, which was a good use of their otherwise neglected hues. “I’m sure you know how to put on your own eyeshadow primer, so… Here’s the tube, get to.” After rifling through a drawer, Isaiah handed her the tube of Urban Decay Primer Potion.
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:19 pm
Isaiah’s quick grab of her legs surprised Gwen. She certainly hadn’t been expecting it and started slightly, but didn’t fight as he shifted her. It was certainly a comfortable enough position to sit in and she wasn’t about to complain. “Really it’s fine. I am just being a bit moooooooody…” She squeaked slightly and wrapped both arms around Isaiah’s neck, her head going to his shoulder as he staggered to a standing position. Being carried was not something she was use to and made her feel a bit insecure at first as her roommate fumbled a bit with the execution.
Lifting her head up from Isaiah’s shoulder, Gwen did her best to help Isaiah by supporting herself to the best of her ability with her arms around his neck and ‘lifting’ her body from her core. “Diet?” She questioned as she glanced back at the indicated notebook. “Not to sound rude, but I don’t think you really need to diet.” She commented seriously. “You’re perfectly fine with how you look now, unless there’s something more to it than just appearances?” Though Gwen was pretty sure it was Isaiah’s need to look slender that was prompting his desire to cut calories. Not that he wasn’t still slender compared to most other men.
“I don’t even know how you’d go about calculating that stuff. No wonder you looked like you were getting frustrated.” And it was a good enough reason as any to try and distract him from it then. In truth, they both needed a distraction of sort to calm themselves.
Entering the bathroom, Gwen did her best to tuck her legs a bit more to avoid hitting her feet off the doorframe or walls. The bathroom certainly wasn’t the biggest thing in the world, but would work with the two of them in there.
As Isaiah used her as a means to turn on the light she chuckled lightly. “Well, that’s putting me to use I suppose.” Finally, when he plopped her down on the counter, Gwen helped with the matter and hoisted herself a bit further back onto it so as not to slip off once Isaiah backed up a bit. As he stood and stared at her as if studying every little nuance about her face, Gwen felt herself blush slightly. She didn’t look away, but it was very strange to have a man looking at her so intently. Strange and also lovely at the same time. I wonder what I got myself into agreeing to let him do my make-up and offering to let him pick out my outfit.
As he handed her the tube of primer she looked down at it. She wasn’t much for make-up so the brand of the primer didn’t mean much to her, but she certainly knew what it did. “I think I can handle primer. I can’t guarantee much past that though.” She teased before opening the tube and taking a small amount on her ring finger. Twisting her body so she could relatively see herself in the mirror behind her she carefully dabbed on the primer making sure to cover both lids and up to her eyebrows. She even took care to rub any leftover on just under both of her eyes.
“So, should I be afraid of what you’ve got planned?” She said jokingly as she twisted the cap back onto the small tube of eye primer and twisted back around to face Isaiah again.
As Isaiah combed through his collections of eyeshadow (and collections they were, for he had six different palettes accumulated already and a count of twenty-seven different individual shades), he responded to her inquiry. “Oh, you should be afraid,” he replied seriously, “because when I’m done with you, you’ll look almost as good as I do.” Not that he modeled his best efforts in avant-garde eyeliner and shadow use currently, but the tried-and-true grunge look suited him terribly well for daily wear.
“I’m going for a tetradic color scheme that’ll compliment your hair and eyes. I’ve got a mix of Mac and Nars here that should put everyone else to shame. Dried herb and marsala as a two-tone on the upper lid will give your eyes a lot of drama, and desert sage here on the lower will soften things up. Couple that with a Palladio brown eyeliner and some cheapass L’oreal mascara and your eyes will practically pop out of your head. And after that… I’ve got some soft orange lipstick here that should go nicely with a little foundation. You’ll look so good your friends will regret inviting you out.”
As Isaiah straightened with the mentioned products in hand, he smiled smugly. His eyes fell to half-lidded as he looked toward her, confident that he could pull off the look without hesitation. As he arranged the items, he pulled the necessary brushes and wedges to correspond with their proper application. Finally he loaded up one of the small makeup pads with the darker green pigment to begin the endeavor. “Close your eyes and we’ll get started. Have you had anyone do your makeup before?” He asked, as he took her chin in his free hand.
Gwen laughed. “Well I shouldn’t have anything to worry about then if you’re boasting that much.” Gwen had to admit though, Isaiah was quite good with make-up. To the point where she had thought once or twice to ask him if he’d be willing to teach her a few things. Besides the basics, she was completely novice with make-up. Her small make-up bag held a single eye palette that was made of matte browns, some black eyeliner, mascara, foundation, blush and about two or three neutral shades of lipstick. It was a shame really considering how much she went out when she lived in New York.
As Isaiah laid out parts of his make-up collection and began spouting off names of shadows and giving a brief explanation of what he was doing, Gwen really began to realize she had no sense for this sort of thing. The amount of color he was intending to use seemed almost excessive, but she was determined to trust him with this. Especially since he looked so enthusiastic about the whole thing which made Gwen grin despite herself. “As long as they don’t shun me all night or keeping throwing me at random men it should be a successful night.”
At his direction Gwen closed her eyes and when he took her chin she relaxed her muscles enough that he could move her head as needed. “Mmmm, just my girlfriend’s back in New York. Gina actually was the one who use to do my make-up from time to time. She never did anything too dramatic though. I think she was unsure what to do between the color my eyes and hair. She was a grey-eyed blonde who could pretty much wear whatever she felt like putting on.” Gwen shrugged slightly. “It never bothered me. I would just throw on a neutral lipstick, heavy eyeliner usually in black, and mascara and call it a night.”
As Isaiah worked on her, Gwen relaxed into the manipulations. She had forgotten how nice it felt to have someone do her make-up. Being pampered was always a wonderful feeling and it certainly helped that the one doing the pampering was Isaiah. She felt extremely sensitive to his touch as he held her chin and worked the shadow onto her lids. She even caught herself holding her breath and consciously breathed out gently through her nose.
”Actually, they’ll be doing both. Or try to do both. However that works out.” Combining oppositional behavior never turned out, but Isaiah was more focused on his tasks than on coming up with a proper response to the conversation. He did pause, however, after applying the darker green over half her lid in short strokes. “I’m kind of surprised. You said you wanted company, but you don’t like being tossed at random men. Not interested in dating, I take it? Not that it’s a bad thing; I’m just curious.”
He resumed with the other end of the makeup blender, after rubbing it into the divot of pigment. This one he started on the outer edges of her eyes, and worked his way inward with quick circular movements. His free hand worked to keep her head stable for the process while keeping his touch light. Inwardly he estimated a half hour on the process, anticipating hiccups on application of the eyeliner, so he hoped she bargained for the time. If not, then perhaps there was some credence to the phrase ‘fashionably late’. Soon he smoothed the two distinct pigments together, with the shimmering green and ruddy brown forming a more neutral pigment base at the center of her lid.
Afterward, he began tracing her lower lid with the lighter pigment. Doing so with the tip of the brushes was easy enough; even if she blinked, and she did with gusto as a foreign object consistently jabbed her in the eye, there came little consequence of it. What smeared downward was simply wiped away with a q-tip of makeup cleanser later. He paused again to check the progress of the eyeshadow, found it adequate, then seized his brush for the liquid liner. “If you’ll hold still, I’m going to get uncomfortably close to your face.” If she watched him apply makeup at times, which she most certainly did when she protested his long occupations of the bathroom, then she knew he almost pressed his face to the mirror when using the brush.
Leaning in close enough that their noses nearly touched, Isaiah pressed a palm to her forehead and lifted her brow with his thumb. His other hand found anchoring on her cheek, where he started the first cold brush strokes of the liner. The immobilized brow diminished the effects of blinking somewhat, which meant he had time to lift away when she started to close her eyes. It was a tedious process.
“I am not exactly sure how that would work, but I certainly wouldn’t put it past them.” Smiling she kept herself from moving too much for fear of messing up whatever it was that her roommate was packing onto her top lids. His next question though resulted in an abrupt sigh as she licked her lips, and carefully rubbed her hands on her pants. “I...It’s a trust issue I guess, well...partially. I am afraid of falling into another relationship like I had with Matthew. And since him, I’ve not necessarily been comfortable around strange guys. It’s strange I guess since part of dating is meeting strangers and just trying to see if your compatible, but I am afraid I’ll let myself be manipulated again into being with someone I think I care for but who doesn’t really care about me.” Thankfully, talking about her ex was not something that caused any sort of waterworks otherwise much of Isaiah’ work would have been ruined. It was more of a blank coldness that seemed to settle over her and was rather apparent in her no nonsense, drab tone.
“Don’t get me wrong, I really do enjoy company. I just want to be able to enjoy the company I am with not be forced upon some strange man I don’t even know or have any interest in just because my girlfriends know he is single.” She let out a soft laugh, once again being as careful as possible not to move too much. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to go on a tangent like that.” As unintentional as the tangent was it felt somewhat liberating to finally have said something to someone about it. She’d never been very open about her past with anyone. Not even Dallen knew the true extent of the damage done to her mentally since her time with Matthew.
Eyes no open, she looked upward as Isaiah fussed with her bottom lash line. She had not been quite ready for him to move in as close as he did despite the warning and sucked in a breath of air which she held as he worked his magic with the eyeliner. All the while she couldn’t help but focus on how close he was to her face and how easy it would be to steal a kiss right then and there. But, with Isaiah working on her eye with the wand of the eyeliner, Gwen was not at all interested in possibly being stabbed in the eye if she decided to be as bold as she wished she was. Do I need alcohol every damn time to make a move?
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:19 pm
”I’m strange,” he answered back matter-of-factly. “Do I not count then?” The sigh disturbed some of the hair that escaped into his face, though he wasn’t disturbed by it. Too much concentration was spent on the task at hand instead of reacting to the puff of air. “I’ve been written off as ‘must be gay’ before. Guess doing your makeup doesn’t really help my case.” He pulled away then, though only to swirl the brush into the gel liner for another trip of it. Her upper lid was very nearly completed, sporting a thin yet dramatic line that clearly delineated where the shadow stopped and her lashes began.
“I imagine not trusting people makes for a shitty time, though. I’ve always trusted that most people don’t intentionally have my worst interests at heart; I can’t imagine what it’s like to have that violated.” Again, he pressed a hand to her forehead and lifted her brow. Again, he applied the cold gel in practiced, sweeping motions to execute a proper line of it. As with his artwork, his makeup aesthetics maintained a sense of motion. Once the top lid was completed, he shifted his hand to cross the bridge of her nose and pressed his thumb to her cheekbone. With the lower lid tugged down, he himself ducked lower to watch his work.
The first strokes touched down near her tear duct. “Well, that’s not entirely true. When my first boyfriend died, I didn’t trust myself to handle the emotions and get past it. That led to a couple of wonderfully shitty years.” The lower lid finished far faster than the first. He straightened, and immediately assumed a flamboyant posture, with one hand pinned to his back and the other sweeping downward into a limp-wristed motion. “Oops, there I go again, sounding as gay as five guys blowing six guys.” The posture dropped afterward as he prepared more liner.
“Maybe you should stay home tonight. Not to be an a**, but you sound like you’re pretty committed to a miserable time. Not that I’d be any more interested in going if I were in your position. Trying to be interested in people when you’re just not interested in people makes the time drag and the drinks sour.” Again, he started the process on her opposite eye, which required some offsetting to accommodate his right-handedness. “Matthew must’ve been a real a*****e.”
”You’re hardly strange. Not to me. Not anymore.” She stated matter-of-factly as she felt stroke by tiny stroke worked to line her lid. She eventually opted to close both of her eyes. Letting herself relish the proximity of his face to hers which seemed to tingle her skin. She could even feel the soft exhalation of his breath as he concentrated so hard on the living canvas he had in front of him. “I didn’t think you were gay when we first met. Then again, you were in such rough shape then I was more worried for you than I was interested in your sexual affiliated.” Now that she thought about it, maybe that was why she had slowly fallen for him? He’d been so open, willing to talk, and yet not at all needy or wanting her attention besides basic companionship. She never felt a need to appease him. Just a desire or want to.
“I would never wish it upon anyone I don’t think. Not even my worse enemy. There are just some things that are just beyond what anyone should ever need to experience. I mean, in a way it worked out in the end I guess. I wouldn’t be who I am or where I am if it hadn’t happened, so there’s that. Gotta look on the bright side, I guess.”
At the mention of a boyfriend Gwen’s one eye opened up. She took a moment to let her vision account for the fact that Isaiah was practically on top of her before she commented. “He died?” Mentally Gwen had to keep herself from pulling away or frowning. “I am so sorry. I...I really think that may have been worse to experience.” When he pulled away Gwen blinked a few times before refocusing on him and his absurd posture with resulted in a chuckle. “As gay as they come.” She shook her head. “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened with him? Your first boyfriend I mean?” This was a good as time as any to delve into his past as well, right? Assuming he was willing to share.
“Now if I stayed home no one would get to enjoy your beautiful work.” She commented as he moved back in to continue on her other eye. Once again she closed both eyes as he worked. “And, it’s not that I don’t want to be with people tonight, I just, don’t want to deal with them forcing me onto others is all. Just because I am single I shouldn’t be shoved at every eligible man in DC. I just want to enjoy my girlfriends company as we chat and share drinks.”
“He…Matthew, was very much interested in himself and no one else. If he got what he wanted that was all that mattered. So yes, most would consider him an a*****e, but he was good at playing his cards.”
”It’s true, our experiences make us the delightful people we are.” Finishing up with the last of the liner demanded more finesse, but he accomplished it quickly enough. Soon she had two matching tinted eyes with equal widths of liner. He gave her a last once-over to check for mistakes before he rinsed the brush out in the sink next to her. Cold water ran a sharp brown for a time before clearing, and the rough patches in the porcelain that accepted the pigment were quickly rubbed out. “If you hadn’t been worried about me, and if I hadn’t been nosy enough to pry into your sketching, we wouldn’t have met.”
Returning to the collection of pulled makeup products, Isaiah next grabbed the foundation and wedge. Gwen really only needed a light dusting, and her porcelain tone was fairly close to the nude pigment. He then applied the quick layer in a few practiced strokes, which left her prepared for the last of his efforts. The orange was one of his hardier lipsticks, one that refused to budge between endless drinks and more promiscuous activities. It was slow to wear, too, which rendered it one of his favorites. Unfortunately, he never had cause to use orange.
“Travis Brennenburg,” he declared with pomp as he started applying the orange lipstick in gentle, petting strokes, “was the first boy I ever dated. And we were absolutely terrible for each other.” Isaiah paused to look over his progress, adding a few more strokes before prompting her to smooth the gel over her lips. “I liked him quite a bit, of course. And he was pretty sweet on me. We were teenagers. Then, you know, the whole highschool romance thing happens and it’s all doe eyes and bullshit for a while, then he invites me over to his house. It’s kind of a mess.
“Travis’ dad was a deadbeat and his mom didn’t live with them anymore, but they were still married. I never thought much of it at the time, but in those situations, usually the kid goes to live with the mom, so I’m guessing the parent life never agreed much with her. Which was fine, everyone seemed all the happier for it, and his parents still did the dating thing, so I guess it was just an unorthodox relationship. Anyway, we’d been hanging out at his house from time to time when he decides we’re going to be rebellious teenagers and dip into his dad’s stash. I guess his dad was the ‘sharing is caring’ sort, because if Travis was telling the truth, his dad taught him all about it.
“And so, he got me hooked on heroin. Slowly. And, of course, there were other drugs, too, depending on how well his dad had been doing and if he particularly wanted to celebrate. I never learned specifically what his dad did, but considering he kept odd hours about it, he was probably dealing. I’m still not sure if that was exactly the case.”
Finally Isaiah capped the lipstick and started on the process of reorganizing all the cosmetics used. He spoke as he worked, with the shuffle of plastics forming a gentle background. “When I was close to graduating - Travis was a little older than me - we agreed to get an apartment together, as soon as I turned eighteen. And I looked forward to that like it was going to be the best day of my life. Of course, my grades went to s**t and my mom started to realize that something was up with me, and life wasn’t really going down a good path, but when are teenagers ever perceptive to this?
“Then the inevitable happened. His dad bought some bad s**t, and Travis got to it first. I don’t know what was in it, but the mix was bad enough to have killed him. Put his dad in the hospital for a long time, too. That’s when I shut down for a few years and didn’t bother with much of anyone. I didn’t take it well at all.
“I don’t think it was worse than someone abusing me would’ve been, though. Everyone dies. And… If things kept going the way they were going, I imagine it would’ve killed us both before we were twenty. It very nearly did me in before I was twenty-five. It’s all just relative, I guess. I keep trying to find some grand point to it all, but there’s just… Not.” His countenance grew more solemn momentarily, then he smiled at her.
“Depressing stories aside, you’re all done. Turn around and tell me what you think.”
As Isaiah switched to applying foundation, Gwen watched his movements. He was so precise with what he was doing and well absorbed into the work. The only time she’d ever seen him so focused on exact thing was when he was drawing. Otherwise it seemed, to her anyway, that he was constantly in multiple places at once. Thinking about this or that while also being ten steps ahead of himself. It was a treat when he focused himself like he was and Gwen was pleased that he appeared to be enjoying himself despite the heavy conversation that had sparked.
She listened intently to his story and slowly began to realize how little she really knew about Isaiah’s past. Sure, he’d mentioned a few things in passing here and there. She even got to meet his ex-fiance, but she really had no idea how hard of a life he’d had. It almost made her own problems with Matthew feel...insignificant in a way. We both have had such rough times. Unfortunately for him, it seems to have been one after the other. Then there was the problem with the drugs. “I didn’t realize you were so young when you started. When you mentioned drugs before I thought maybe it was something that had started in college at some point, not high school. Not only did you have to deal with a new drug addiction but also the loss of your first boyfriend. Life really isn’t fair sometimes. It’s no wonder why you had a hard time for awhile.
“Knowing that you loved someone and that they never had the same feelings for you and took advantage or having loved someone, having them love you back, and them being taken from you so abruptly and never knowing where it might have led. I really think that’s so much more worse. The not knowing. I at least am certain now that Matthew and I were never meant to be. Maybe if Travis hadn’t passed away, the two of you may have dug yourselves out of your addictions together.” She shrugged lightly. “But we’re not here to hash out who has had the worst past, I suppose.” She smiled at him in return.
With the prompt, Gwen Placed her hands on the counter to support herself as she twisted round to look in the mirror and it was almost like a stranger was peering back at her. She’d never had so much make-up on before, especially such bold colors. It all worked so seamlessly though that instead of being distracting it made a bold, coherent statement. Gwen was so taken she hadn’t realized she had quite literally dropped her jaw in awe at that face her in the mirror as she turned her head this way and that to get a look at all of it. “It’s amazing.” She finally said, before spinning back to face Isaiah. “I think I may need to get you to do my make-up more often!” With a laugh she scootched herself to the edge of the counter before hopping off. She turned to get another look at herself, now a bit further away from the mirror itself. “I am really, very impressed.”
Spinning, she face him again. “I’ve still got time, and I don’t mind being a bit late so how about helping me find an outfit that works with your art?” Because, what Isaiah had done was very much art in Gwen’s book.
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Posted: Thu Mar 31, 2016 8:20 pm
Isaiah laughed openly at her comment of college drug use. “You’d think that, right? It’s almost expected of art students these days, but no, it happened a little earlier than that. And I wasn’t exactly the best person about it, either, but that’s a story for another time.” Her phrasing of her summary personalized his experiences directly enough that it dampened his spirits somewhat. He responded by burying himself further in the obnoxious organization by brand, color, and makeup type in the mini drawer organizer.
“That’s exactly the fallacy that people start falling into - me included. ‘What would it have been like if he lived?’ It’s a question I asked myself forever. But the reality is, he didn’t live, things aren’t going to change just because I’m posturing about parallel universes where we lived happily ever after, and none of that thinking is productive or healthy. He’s dead, I’m not, the sun still rises, the days still pass, and no amount of dwelling over it is going to resurrect him like Jesus on Easter sunday.” Having finished his organization, Isaiah shut the drawer tightly. “But you’re right, this isn’t a competition of the pity olympics. Besides, the only competitions I like are the ones that occur in the bedroom.”
Isaiah followed her movement visually as she hopped off the counter. The overhead lighting cast harsh shadows over her face, but the overall composition looked well-practiced. Against her fiery red hair, the makeup worked to a perfect complement. Her natural beauty lent a softened touch to an otherwise borderline gaudy palette. “Well then, if you’re that impressed, then what kind of a reward are we talking about here? Usually everyone knows better than to ask me to help them dress themselves; is that my prize?”
Pushing off from the counter, he shooed Gwen out of the bathroom in a series of quick wrist flicks. “I hope you’ve got something good in that closet of yours. Maybe like a skimpy blue cocktail dress. Mmm, that’ll look great on the bed.” “I’d say that’s a fairly poor prize if it was.” She laughed before being shooed out of the bathroom. “I’ll have to think of something. Just give me some time to think about it.” Glancing over her shoulder to make sure Isaiah was following and not going back to his need to organize, Gwen led the man into her room and over to her closet.
“I don’t have a blue cocktail dress. Sorry to burst your bubble on that one. Besides, it really is just a normal bar I am going to so the cocktail dress may be a bit much.” She smiled as she opened up the double sliding doors that revealed a somewhat organized closet. It certainly wasn’t a walk-in closet by any means, but Gwen managed to make the most out of the space she had with clothes neatly hung, spare blankets and things stacked above the hung clothes and...a mish mash of shoes and other bobs and bits strewn on the floor. Unlike Isaiah, Gwen was not the most neat person in the world and never pretended to be. “I did bring along some of the clothes I use to club in though which include some dresses. Most are black I hate to say.” She gestured to the right hand side of the closet where a collection of dresses hung. Like promised, any of the dresses were black, but a few colored ones poked through the abyss of dark. Her dress collection ranged from work appropriate to barely covering the necessities.
“I’ll put on whatever you pull out of there.” She said as she stepped back and let Isaiah have free access. Even knowing Isaiah’s style, Gwen knew the man had a very good taste in clothing and would be able to pick something out for her that would be appropriate. Especially now that he knew it was a basic, no fuss bar she was going to with the girls. Who knows, he may decide to pull a prank on me and toss me in some ridiculous outfit that no one would wear to a night out with the girls at the bar.
Maybe she shouldn’t have promised to wear whatever he chose?I could give you a few hints, he thought with respect to the prize. ... Oh, wait, I guess those aren’t considered hints. Oh well.
Isaiah followed her into her room obediently, and took note of the sleeping dog in a pet bed next to the nightstand. He didn’t appear to wake up to the commotion of their entering, which Isaiah took to be a good sign.
The opening of her closet doors, however, yielded a whole lot of uninteresting. Truthfully she simply had different tastes than his last dedicated cohabitant, and Sid’s vibrant combination of stark blacks and brilliant rave-eligible multicolors demanded that she stand out in a crowd. Gwen held far less of that flashy attitude about her, and probably preferred to fit in with the general populace. Sid and Isaiah were kindred spirits in their dress habits, simple synonyms to each other, whereas Gwen and Isaiah posed complimentary against each other, as antonyms. He found it bizarre to pick for the polar opposite.
“Whatever I pick out, then? Hmm…” Hands on his hips, Isaiah perused the wardrobe with a scrutinizing eye, all the while keeping his thoughts to himself. He wondered if there was a particular outfit that Gwen wanted him to choose, or one she already had in mind for herself. Maybe she expected him to take her ‘thanks but no thanks’ single eligibility in mind when picking out an outfit. No cleavage, he thought to himself. The perfect friendzone maneuver, just like when we first met.
You know what? ******** that s**t.
“I’ve got it,” he announced triumphantly. “I know exactly what you’ll wear. It’s perfect, it goes with anything, and it’s terribly comfortable. The only downside is, you’ll get cold easily, but the changing weather shouldn’t be too hard on you. Wearing a coat would ruin the look, however. Well, no, not exactly - but it creates an entirely different look.”
Turning around, he crossed arms over chest and looked her straight in the eye. “You should wear your birthday suit,” he answered matter-of-factly.“What?” She stood there staring at Isaiah as he stood there expectantly with crossed arms. “I can’t go to the bar wearing nothing. You damn well know that.” She countered back at him.
There’s a whole closet of clothes in front of him and he pulls this? Why she was surprised though, Gwen wasn’t really sure. Saying something like that, like he had all intentions of seeing her off to the bar wearing nothing besides what she was born with, was just not what she had intended when she said she’d wear anything that he picked out. And, not to mention, he pretty much told her she wasn’t allowed to try and circumnavigate around his proposed idea.
A stubborn streak immediately began to blossom in the red- head as she contemplated her options. Fine. I made a promise. I’ll stick to it. Internally, Gwen hoped that her bold move would pay off in the end. Besides, it wasn’t like he had never seen her naked before, right? Sure, she didn’t remember it but Gwen had no doubts that Isaiah probably did. And that led to another, oddly bold idea and Gwen jumped on it before she could allow herself to second guess.
“That’s fine. Birthday suit it is. But I am not undressing myself.” She gave him a pointed look, crossing her own arms in response to him. Sid’s comments at the club came back to him as she exploded in response. ’Firecracker in bed’ sounds like an accurate appraisal to me. Look at those fireworks…
Of all the predicted responses, Isaiah most expected her to either slap him, argue with him, or shrug it off as a well-played joke and ask him for a more serious proposition. The latter sounded most likely, as he was almost certain she knew his brand of humor by now, but the first two worked in the case of still being strangers to one another. In fact, he very well expected the lattermost of the three choices to rear up, then they could brush the whole joke under the rug and Ice would be sending her off in some subtly boring but well-coordinated outfit. She’d spend some hours at the bar, come back tipsy and socialized, and the night would end with her telling him goodnight as she toddled off towards her bedroom.
Instead, she spat his boldness back at him in an entirely unexpected reversal. Surprised he was, certainly, and evidence of that showed plainly in his countenance. He did not, however, shy away from the bait. Far from a blushing virgin himself, he sized her up. “Easy enough. Should I make it interesting while I’m at it? I do have three tongue rings…”
Isaiah approached, then dropped to his knees at a very short distance before her legs. Doing so gave him the proper vantage point, so he busied himself with unbuttoning the top of her jeans. Afterward he took the thin zipper into his teeth and tugged it downward without interruption. Inwardly he thanked her jean manufacturer for making a product that didn’t jam up on him and completely ruin a sexy moment. Fingers slipped beneath the hem line on the sides of her hips and tugged, where the fabric gave in with little complaint.
“So, want a demonstration of what happened after I took you clubbing?” He asked, looking up at her.
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