Taming London by Jordan Bell

Taming London by Jordan Bell

Author:Jordan Bell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, pdf
Published: 2013-06-12T04:00:00+00:00


6

“Where are we going?” she asked, but in a way that suggested she didn’t care about the destination. She glowed in the sunlight, her head back, her long hair in playful little pigtails.

“It’s a surprise,” I grinned and she smiled because I don’t think anyone ever spent much time trying to surprise her.

“Will there be food provided with this surprise because lunch might get you a kiss if you’re lucky.”

“In the back I’ve packed you something from Saturday Tacos.”

“That sounds made up.”

I laughed. “Fantastic tacos though. Here, we’re almost there.” I pulled off into an unmarked drive that quickly took us under a canopy of trees. The park hosted running trails and the occasional jungle gym for bored kids being dragged around by their parent’s need for exercise. It was a pretty place, a little wild which I liked.

London watched the trees and I watched her and tried to watch the road both, but she made it difficult. London wore pleasure well.

I took the road to an overpass that bridged two sides of the park, pulled off to the side, and cut the engine. I passed out our tacos and we ate.

“Is this the surprise?” she asked. “A picnic? It’s nice.”

“No, this is just lunch. The surprise is next. It’s kind of a present, I guess. Ready?” She wiped her mouth, dusted the taco crumbs out the window and nodded.

“I like presents.”

I grinned, and got out, went around to her side, and opened the door for her. She seemed thrilled by these little shows of gentlemanliness I sometimes did for her. She took my hand and I helped her down.

I led her through the trees down the embankment under the bridge. She didn’t question where we were going, but seemed thrilled to be traipsing through the woods in the middle of the day. Under the bridge she found a pile of paint cans and supplies and gave me a questioning, guarded look.

On either side of the overpass, large canvases of concrete held back the earth. A thin stream of water bisected the broken concrete under our feet, but the two sides were perfect but for the ugly graffiti abandoned here over the years. I knew guys who came here to practice and I thought it would be a good place for her to work out her shit.

“Go on,” I told her, and pulled up a milk crate left against one of the pylons holding the bridge up. “Paint me something.”

She turned in a circle, taking in the whole of the area as if it were all a canvas, a whole piece instead of two sides. She walked around, kicked at some trash, cleared some of the debris that had blown in here.

“You want me to paint you something?” she finally asked.

“Yes. Anything.”

“Anything?”

I laughed at her and she blushed and it was so fucking gorgeous I wanted to pull her to the ground, into the leaves beneath the blue-green leaves and make love to her.

“I could spend years painting down here.”

“You



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