#deathproof

The rain beat down hard outside, such a contrast from the dry heat of the day–but that’s southern weather for you, so unpredictable sometimes. At least to you, not that the rain would've changed your plans.

Your teeth softly nipped at the butt of your cigarette, slowly smoldering away in front of you, smoke whispering up around your face and into the air around you. Eyes drooped and body relaxed leaning against the beam next to you, arm crossed under your breasts as it supported your other arm, which was reaching for your cigarette. Taking a slow drag from it as you followed with a deep breath in. Looking out over the parking lot, small and dirt. The bright billboard was captivating you. Something about the woman laid out on it with a wicked smile, her hair huge and a certain glint in her eye. You’d spent about 10 minutes staring at it, your first cig had just smoldered out the first round. But you weren’t as totally drunk as you were 10 minutes ago, so you could focus on two things at once better.

Your skin is deceivingly warm in the chilly night, even without a jacket. Boots nearly to your ankles and wide on your calves, nowhere near the short cutoffs you wore, a pack of cigarettes and a lighter tugging tight at your back pocket, phone tugging at the front pocket. Your shirt was exactly thick either for that matter. But by god did the liquor and the unbearably stuffy bar help warm you up.

Your brows furrowed as you looked at the billboard, sloppily pushing your unruly hair out of your face.

“Those’ll kill ya, y’know,” a gruff voice broke the near silence. Making you jump and whip your head around, eyes impossibly wide.

“Jesus fuck–” your voice was muffled by the cigarette pressed tightly between your lips, putting a hand to your chest, you plucked the cig from your mouth and scoffed, “You scared the hell outta me!”

Looking toward the door of the bar, dusty yellow light flooded out of it, only to be blocked by the stocky man in the doorway.

His arms crossed over his chest, pulling the sleeves of his jacket tight on his arms, and no doubt tight on his back too. A warm smile stretched across his face, which was full with mutton chops, and scruff.

Your brows furrowed tighter, cocking your head as the man chuckled, deep and rumbling, like heavy bass.

“Sorry darlin', couldn’t help it, not my intention but,” he walked forward a bit, shaking his head, making his way over the railing you were at, “No matter wot, I think I would’ve spooked ya.”

Wish a heavy breath you looked up at him through your brows, licking your teeth, before huffing and looking out over the parking lot again, silence falling between you two. You pulled another drag from your cigarette as the man chimed in.

“Serious though, those'll kill ya one day.”

With a glance to the side, before you turned to him and blew the smoke out–with no care how much it got in his face–you smiled. He didn’t even flinch at the smoke, instead you swore he took a deep breath in.

“Lots of things could kill me,” you said, hand on your hip, hooking a thumb in the waistline of your shorts, “And last I checked, most do die someday, and I’m not one to try and fight off the inevitable.”

Your smile twitched as you let the cigarette hang between your lips again, this time leaning back on the post behind you, and crossing your arms, looking the man up and down.

“Very true darlin', can’t really argue wiv that,” the man leaning on his elbow, which was propped on the railing beside you two, before sniffing and holding a hand out, “in that case, care t' share?”

There was a beat of silence before you rolled your eyes and chuckled, cheeks pink.

“Yeah man, sure,” you handed it over, not noticing the way the man's fingers lingered all too long on yours. Touching far too much for a pass of a cigarette. You did take note of how warm he was, skin rough and buzzing with heat. You also notice for the first time the hat he had on, almost a fisherman's cap but you couldn’t really tell.

He took a long drag of it, watching you the whole time, before sucking his teeth and passing it back to you, “Wot a pretty thing doin' all alone out 'ere? Dangerous this time o' night…”

You laughed a beat, the creepy nature of the comment flying over your head. 

“Admiring the local art,” you gestured to the billboard–which seemed much less interesting after your intense concentration on it had been broken, you paused for a moment then looked at the man and pointed accusingly, “hey–I can protect myself, thank you.”

The man chuckled, whipping his nose before settling back into his jacket, “Oh really?”

“Yeah, really.”

You crossed your arms smug-like, eyes scanning over the man's face, definitely taking note of how full his facial hair was, and how there were crows feet at the corners of his eyes. He was…very attractive, and they didn’t get past you. He had broad shoulders, and a full chest, and a taught stomach, and thick thighs. Your eyes dragged back up to the man's face, a smug smirk on his lips as his eyebrows were raised.

You leaned in closer to his, grinning, swaying your body slightly.

“I have a secret,” you said, rather sing-songy.

The man grinned wider, “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh,” you leaned back, back thudding against the beam, licking your lips slightly.

“Gonna tell me, darlin', or just leave me all high an' dry?”

You leaned forward, keeping heavy eye contact with the man in front of you, back straight as you bent at your hips. Sliding your hand down your leg as you did, reaching down into your boot, fingers twitching as they touch a cold metal in your shoe.

“You gonna ask nicely?”

The teasing chip in your tone made the man laugh, leaning down slightly himself to get closer to your face.

“Can I please know yer secret?”

A wicked grin stretching across your face, tugging at your lips. Eyes widening.

“You wanna see it?”

The man leaned down even further, looking nearly face-to-face with you.

“Ah reelly wanna see darlin’.”

The air was thick between the two of you. You could feel sweat pebbling on your palms, and on your upper lip. The man's gaze was so firm with your own, that it made your cheeks twitch with your smile.

In a split second your hand was out of your boot and the blade of your hunting knife popped open with a click, 5 inches long, and sharp. The tip of it resting just under the man's chin, just barely scratching at the scruff that was there.

Your pupils were dilated as you looked at him, grinning and wagging your hips playfully as you bit your lip rather rough. But you didn’t care, you were pretty drunk.

The man didn’t move, his eyes still locked steady with yours, not even flinched at the knife to his neck. In fact, he looked even more excited.

“Cute little thing,” he said, voice gravely and low. It sounded like he was speaking directly into your ear, you’d forgotten it was raining, or that your cigarette was now soaked in the rain as it laid in the dirt right under the railing. You’d forgotten the billboard, or the bar that had music going and people laughing.

The man reached out, and gripped your hand that was holding the knife, your arm steady as you pushed it slightly harder against him, pressing into the skin–not enough to cut, but to fully feel the pressure of the blade.

“Yer gonna get in trouble if ya keep pullin' knives off people,” the man teased, tsk-ing at you.

You shrugged, biting the tip of your tongue, “Been fine so far…”

“So far…”

The man chuckled, his grip on your hand was hot and tight, squeezing tighter as he stood to his full high, easily keeping your hand from following him.

“Like I said,” he watched as you stood fully, knife still clutched in your hand as your arms hung at your sides, looking the man up and down. His arm came up, and you watched as his thick, mutt of a hand cupped your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your lips. Prodding it softly past them for a brief moment. Glancing to the side then back to you, “Dangerous fer a pretty little thing like ya out ‘ere in the dark like this..”

Your brows scrunched as you looked at him, feeling him run his thumb over your lips again, his hand taking up nearly half your face.

“Well, I’m out of cigarettes,” you said, tilting your head as he dragged his palm over your cheek to grip your jaw, holding your head in place, “So I won’t be out here for long, will I?”

The man tutted, looking you up and down (which it wasn’t the first time he had), “Looks like we’ll 'ave to do somethin' about that, won’t we?”

A smile tugged at your lips, “If you’re drivin’...”

He stood straight and laughed, deep from his belly, then walked around the side of you, dragging his hand along your skin till he was gripping your nape tight in his hand. His fingers toying with the neckline of your shirt, dipping them under the collar as he squeezed.

“Of course, darlin', wouldn’t ever dream of it…”

Showcasing art from some of my favourite artists, and those that have attracted my attention, in the field of visual arts, including vintage; pulp; pop culture; books and comics; concert posters; fantastical and imaginative realism; classical; contemporary; new contemporary; pop surrealism; conceptual and illustration.