Post by Jax on Apr 1, 2017 5:33:49 GMT
(OFF CAMERA: 03-15-2017)
It's 2017. You are an adult and adult Nessa is capable of healing, of learning. You're a strong person. You can do this. You can do anything if you just remember to breathe.
The positive words looped with every footstep, keeping her from turning back the way she'd come. With her laptop bag slung over her shoulder and a giant plastic bag overflowing with goodies, the petite blonde could have passed for a college student heading to a late-night study session – she looked closer to twenty than forty, after all. Not that those sorts of things happened in hotel suites, of course. Wanting to surprise him, Nessa hadn't bothered to call ahead and now she was starting to regret that impulsive action. The closer she got to Matt's room, the dumber she felt until she was fumbling in her bag, trying to find her cell phone. With her luck, she'd probably left it at home. The handle on the plastic bag chose that moment to snap, sending two pints of Ben & Jerry's rolling away. "Goddammit!" Nessa muttered, turning around to gather them up, bending over to give a pleasant view to anyone watching.
Living out of a hotel room wasn't anyone's idea of a perfect arrangement, but until he found a suitable home in the GTA - Greater Toronto Area - this would have to do. He had a place back in Ottawa, but with this plan to form a tag team with Nessa, or reform as this case would be, he felt it was best to get used to seeing her daily. He'd already seen her today, mind you, at the shoe store where they had an interesting encounter, to say the least, some glitter still shining in his hair which he was looking at in the mirror of the bathroom when he heard some commotion outside his room. Curiosity got the better of him, prompting him to go have a look, poking his head out the door and getting what was certainly a much better view than the hotel rooms normally provided. "Helloooooo Nurse."
Nessa laughed appreciatively, snagging the last runaway ice cream pint and stuffing it back into the bag before snapping back upright. "Hello, yourself. I brought snacks!" She turned around and thrust the bag with the broken handle into his hands, grinning.
He instinctively held the bag from the bottom to ensure nothing else would run away, though if it had he could always ask her to go and pick them up, giving him a bit of an evil smirk for a moment. "Oh great...I love snacks." He stood there for a moment, looking at her like he was expecting an answer. "Am I forgetting something?"
She shook her head, "no, see, I wanted to surprise you. I thought maybe we could watch movies or old TV shows on Netflix and just chill? Isn't that what people are doing these days?"
He tried not to laugh, he honestly did but that was far too funny for him to just ignore. "Well if Netflix and Chill is what you were aiming for, Ness, then that little display you just did was the perfect foreplay for that."
"The perfect," she started to echo him, eyes going wide as it dawned on her what he was saying, "oh, God. Well now that makes a bit more sense." Her cheeks went pink as she looked up and down the hall, "can I come in?"
"Oh, yeah, of course. Just let me send the hooker home and we'll be all set." He turned back to the room, taking a step in before looking back at her. "I'm kidding, come on in."
"You're far too classy for hookers," Nessa replied, following him inside.
"I'm far too classy for a lot of things, but desperate times and all that, you know how it goes." He replied as he walked over and set the bag down on the table, opening it up. "So, what kind of snacks did you bring for this 'Netflix and Chill' session?"
"Chips. Ice cream. Chocolate." She walked up behind him, "you know. The good stuff."
"Well…" He said, turning to her and handing her the ice cream to put in the mini-fridge. "If you're going to Netflix and Chill, you had better bring the good stuff." He punctuated that line with a wink, refusing to let that flub go.
"I was going to bring popcorn but I wasn't sure if you had a microwave and then I didn't want to lug the hot air popper with me so," she shrugged, crossing to the fridge to put the precious Ben & Jerry's away, "I guess I shouldn't have assumed, should I? You might have had plans."
"What, me? Guy alone in a strange city that knows next to no one, yeah, I had a party to go to in like twenty minutes, but I suppose I can blow off Chad and the guys to stay in with you." He pulled out a bag of chips and cracked it open, enjoying the salty contents within.
She swatted him in the shoulder, "very funny. I'll have to thank Chad for being so kind as to let me monopolize your time then."
"I think you two would really hit it off, actually. Just make sure you're wearing a halter top with that push-up bra of yours or something, Chad likes 'em big." He eyeed her for a moment before sitting down on one of the two chairs situated around the table.
"Oh well," she grabbed the other bag of Wavy Lays and plopped down on the opposite chair. "Unlike the Fujiko Mine's of the world, I prefer to be natural."
"Who?" He asked right away, then choosing to pick at the last thing she said. "By natural you mean make-up, high heels and hair spray, right?" He asked with a sly grin.
"Sea Spray from Lush, actually," she corrected, tossing her hair, "which is technically all-natural and vegan so…."
"A thousand pardons, then. I shan't bring it up again." He munched on another chip, not realizing how hungry he was until that first chip touched his lips. "So, was there something particular you wanted to watch? Your entrance made me think of Legally Blonde, but that's just me."
"We could watch that one. I'm not opposed to it," Nessa replied, studying him, "it is a damn good movie, after all."
"It is, and probably my biggest regret about our relationship that I didn't ask you to cosplay Elle for me. But alas...you didn't bring any wine, did you?"
"I didn't. I just kinda assumed you'd have something in the mini bar that would suffice. I guess we could call room service?" She feigned a pout, "clearly I'm not very good at this whole 'seduction' thing, am I?"
"Seduction thing? I don't know, they say the quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach and you did bring me chips." He held up the chip bag like it was a 'cheers' moment at a bar. "So, there's that...plus you look totes adorbs when you're pouting like that."
"Oh you're just a sucker for my butt in these jeans," Nessa replied, laughing, "admit it."
This time it was his turn to have his cheeks get a little pink. "What? Nooooo." He answered, giving his best Mark Wahlberg impression.
"It's all about the bend and snap," Nessa snapped her fingers to emphasize it, grinning at his obvious embarrassment.
"Yeah, right." He said, looking over at her. "It's the snap that I'm into."
AGAINSTHEWALL.COM BLOG POSTING
Frankie Starlight, at the risk of having you pull a Joe Pesci on me after reading this little missive I'm sitting down to write, I need to be completely honest: I find you funny – hilarious, even. Yes, sweetie. You are hilarious. Downright laughable, but then I guess we all have to start somewhere, don't we? I suppose I could draw that parallel to my own career and take the ol' trip down memory lane for your benefit. I could talk about how I used to have to lurk in corridors, waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting goon (or goomba, as it were), in the hopes to catch someone unawares. The ninja interview is what I used to call it and I hope you'll forgive me for the little ego rub here: I was damned good at it. Tiny, unassuming. You know how the alpha male brain goes, don't you? See a little blonde with a great butt and the lizard kicks in – Pavlov's libido. Bend and snap and they'll salivate. Boys will be boys, right? Right.
I was forever dropping pens, adjusting my nylons. Poor little damsel in distress.
I suppose that part of me never died and that's why I put on these airs now. I want to control your perception from the first moment you lay eyes on me. I know why I do it but I just can't bring myself to stop, to relinquish that control. What does that say about me, really? I don't see drive and determination as a detriment. The nickname of Canadian Bitchsauce doesn't bother me as much as it once did – granted, I was still using it in a purely facetious manner. It amused me. It still does if I'm being honest and that's what I want you to see. Just another bitch. Another skirt.
You know, the kind you'd catcall when I walk past the construction site – aww, is that stereotyping? In Toronto, the Italians are either into construction or (hush-hush) the mob. I figure now if I undercut first, I take away the sting. I take away your power and really, when a guy like you has been neutered, he's just a therapist's couch away from being Tony Soprano in the final season.
I'd waste time telling you where I've been since my last appearance in Sex & Violence Wrestling nearly two years ago, but you could probably Google it easily enough. I was in Australia working for a place I'd rather not discuss. I won something there but I'm not ready to talk about that yet. I haven't come to that place where I can neatly fold up that memory and put it into its neat little box. It's still twisting in the wind, soaking wet and even writing these words now is too close to reaching into myself and ripping my guts out. I don't want to destroy myself any longer. Self destruction holds no immediate appeal for me. Never did.
I don't want to think about Australia.
I want to focus on the future. Right now I just want to let it all go. All of it. The words, the voices, the emotions. It would be amazing to let it all go. Perhaps my counsellor is right. Maybe I need to open up. Maybe you can be my outlet as I purge this jealousy, ego and ambition. Let go of my drive, and the need to push forward into exhaustion. I wonder what else there would be to think about then? Nothing but silence? Quiet introspection, perhaps.
I'm done dealing in their currency.
I am firmly in control here.
See, Frankie, this is my moment. You're on television, out of the dark match because of me – not the other way around. I mean, you didn't actually think beating Thing Two made you a superstar, did you? If so? Well, a stiff breeze could probably blow you over simply because your head is that empty. We both know that is NOT going to happen. You'll lose. You and your friends The Collective will go back to facing the Spirals and Porkchops of the wrestling world. I'll go on to greatness. Nothing can stand in my way now.
BEND and snap.
If you don't bend, you'll break. Someone told me I've always been broken – he didn't know me any better than you do. He was wrong.
Bend and SNAP.
I'm going to bend, adapt to my new environs and I'm going to stomp a goomba while I'm at it. Pull me. Push me. A thousand directions. A million. Doesn't matter. Might take some time but I'll snap back, victorious. Always.
See you in the ring, sweetheart.
#kissykissy
–N.
Frankie Starlight, at the risk of having you pull a Joe Pesci on me after reading this little missive I'm sitting down to write, I need to be completely honest: I find you funny – hilarious, even. Yes, sweetie. You are hilarious. Downright laughable, but then I guess we all have to start somewhere, don't we? I suppose I could draw that parallel to my own career and take the ol' trip down memory lane for your benefit. I could talk about how I used to have to lurk in corridors, waiting to pounce on some unsuspecting goon (or goomba, as it were), in the hopes to catch someone unawares. The ninja interview is what I used to call it and I hope you'll forgive me for the little ego rub here: I was damned good at it. Tiny, unassuming. You know how the alpha male brain goes, don't you? See a little blonde with a great butt and the lizard kicks in – Pavlov's libido. Bend and snap and they'll salivate. Boys will be boys, right? Right.
I was forever dropping pens, adjusting my nylons. Poor little damsel in distress.
I suppose that part of me never died and that's why I put on these airs now. I want to control your perception from the first moment you lay eyes on me. I know why I do it but I just can't bring myself to stop, to relinquish that control. What does that say about me, really? I don't see drive and determination as a detriment. The nickname of Canadian Bitchsauce doesn't bother me as much as it once did – granted, I was still using it in a purely facetious manner. It amused me. It still does if I'm being honest and that's what I want you to see. Just another bitch. Another skirt.
You know, the kind you'd catcall when I walk past the construction site – aww, is that stereotyping? In Toronto, the Italians are either into construction or (hush-hush) the mob. I figure now if I undercut first, I take away the sting. I take away your power and really, when a guy like you has been neutered, he's just a therapist's couch away from being Tony Soprano in the final season.
I'd waste time telling you where I've been since my last appearance in Sex & Violence Wrestling nearly two years ago, but you could probably Google it easily enough. I was in Australia working for a place I'd rather not discuss. I won something there but I'm not ready to talk about that yet. I haven't come to that place where I can neatly fold up that memory and put it into its neat little box. It's still twisting in the wind, soaking wet and even writing these words now is too close to reaching into myself and ripping my guts out. I don't want to destroy myself any longer. Self destruction holds no immediate appeal for me. Never did.
I don't want to think about Australia.
I want to focus on the future. Right now I just want to let it all go. All of it. The words, the voices, the emotions. It would be amazing to let it all go. Perhaps my counsellor is right. Maybe I need to open up. Maybe you can be my outlet as I purge this jealousy, ego and ambition. Let go of my drive, and the need to push forward into exhaustion. I wonder what else there would be to think about then? Nothing but silence? Quiet introspection, perhaps.
I'm done dealing in their currency.
I am firmly in control here.
See, Frankie, this is my moment. You're on television, out of the dark match because of me – not the other way around. I mean, you didn't actually think beating Thing Two made you a superstar, did you? If so? Well, a stiff breeze could probably blow you over simply because your head is that empty. We both know that is NOT going to happen. You'll lose. You and your friends The Collective will go back to facing the Spirals and Porkchops of the wrestling world. I'll go on to greatness. Nothing can stand in my way now.
BEND and snap.
If you don't bend, you'll break. Someone told me I've always been broken – he didn't know me any better than you do. He was wrong.
Bend and SNAP.
I'm going to bend, adapt to my new environs and I'm going to stomp a goomba while I'm at it. Pull me. Push me. A thousand directions. A million. Doesn't matter. Might take some time but I'll snap back, victorious. Always.
See you in the ring, sweetheart.
#kissykissy
–N.
*word count: 2085
