Victoria Carlsson

“Fair.” He said with a nod, “you always like a warning, no matter what, or is it a case by case basis?” 

“I mean...” Victoria sighed. “I do appreciate a warning if someone’s gonna shove their tongue down my throat without me knowing– I mean, I... I do like me some surprise kisses every now and then, but you gotta either build the tension first or like... take me when I’m on my fourth shot.”

“I don’t either, but the world is a fucking crazy place. Is it not?” He asked, “it is, but nothing I can’t handle. I wouldn’t know if its painfulest place to get it, sounds like a question for like that snake man who wanted his whole body to be tattooed like a snake. You’ve heard about that right?”

“Well, next time you should walk around and offer a mint or something. Subtle way of saying ‘hey buddy, please wash your teeth’ and you’ll be making some other person’s life better that day,” Victoria responded with a shrug. “Oh, my God- a snake? No. I haven’t- that’s disturbing, though. I’m asking because I want another one but I’m scared of needles and pain so...”

“Huh, I haven’t thought about it that way. Now that you mention it, it’s not so bad a life. Pays well, too. Not the birdwatcher part, though.” Laughing, he added, “I am Duncan, by the way.” 

“You still get the best of both worlds, though. You get a cool job that pays well, and the calm of birdwatching in your life. I’m jealous,” she joked, a crooked smile curving a side of her lips. “I’m Victoria. It’s nice to meet you.”

@tonyangello

Victoria hadn’t worked as a photographer in a long time, months even. She was more on the other side of the camera these days, but that didn’t take away the fact of how much she loved it. If it was for her own enjoyment walking down the lake or doing this kind of jobs for people in town, it did not really matter. She was always happy to do it, and meet people in the process. This time was a restaurant. She had been called to take some promotional photos for the restaurant’s website, and though it wasn’t her speciality, she could do interior shots quite well, she thought. “So... I have a few good ones already. I don’t know if you want something more specific?”

“Definitely way too many movies. Unfortunately my occupation is not as exciting as you think it is. Amateur birdwatcher, and a professional creative director.” He laughed. “Sad as it is, I don’t see myself spying anytime soon.” 

“Are you kidding me? Creative director and birdwatcher sound way better than... well 70% of the jobs. Possibly not as cool as a spy, but you know, still on the top ten coolest jobs, so don’t you go make it any less.”

“I’m sorry–” he paused before shaking his head, “actually no, I’m not. I just, think that maybe you’re the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, and I don’t know if I could have lived without doing that.” He shrugged, “I don’t deny myself much– or really, anything.” 

Victoria pushed him away gently– or as gently as her surprise allowed her too. She shook her head in confusion and took a deep breath. “Listen, buddy. I feel you there. No need to hold back but I’d appreciate a warning next time.”

“You know that face you make at people when their breathe stinks? I just want be like you should close your mouth before someone puts their dick, or piss in it. But that’s just me. On another hand, I got a tattoo, what do you think?”

“I am.... not too sure what one thing has to do with another, but I agree. And it’s a nice one. Looks painful, though. Isn’t the chest one of the painful ones?”

“So, do you think it’s too on the nose to spend Father’s Day at a strip club?” 

“Nah. I think it would be weird if you ask them to call you daddy. Other than that, I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

“Well shit, that’s another Eastern Bluebird that has escaped my line of sight,” Duncan remarked absently, rolling his eyes. “I had better luck bird watching in Chappaqua.” 

“Birdwatching? You could’ve fooled me– or anyone really if you said you were a PI or a spy or something– have I watched too many movies?”

“Oh good god no. The Crucible and Shakespeare are the most cliché as fuck plays I could make high school students perform. I just want to do something challenging or at least relevant to their own views and experiences. I could workshop a play with them…”

“I mean, I’m not the most cultured person you could talk to about theatre and stuff, and I do think Shakespeare is important, but... that might be actually more fun than saying the words of an old dude who died 400 years ago, you know?

❛ – I helped a child across the street earlier and I’m positive his mother was hitting on me. ❜ It certainly wasn’t out of the ordinary for Thierry to think that he was hot shit but it was somewhere along the lines of the woman swatting him on the bottom when the child wasn’t looking and telling him that she would return the favor later that truly had him convinced. ❛ An experience I never want to relive, I assure you. ❜ 

“Was it really that traumatising? I mean, you’re a good looking guy. Are you really surprised a woman would hit on you? I so damn would if I weren’t taken. It’s no news. Then again, welcome to the life of objectification most women in this world are a victim of. I know how you feel.”

Taking a deep sip from his coffee Wilcome through the window to the street outside. He still couldn’t believe that he was in America. Let alone New York. Putting the coffee down Wilcome returned to his class preparation. Chewing on his pen he muttered out loud, “Now what play should I put forward to be performed this year?” Flicking through his notes on the many pre approved scripts. “I just don’t want do Shakespeare or The Crucible you know?” Wilcomes heart skipped a beat at the reply

“Well, why don’t you try a new one? Unless you think The Crucible or Shakespeare needs any more repeats.”

+ @vicxcarlsson 

               The night had already begun, commenced, and should’ve been winding down — instead, fueled by their own intoxication, the pair of them pressed on. There’d been wispy sheets of acid passed around, a line or two, and more tequila than the bar likely kept stocked up front. Beth’s head was whirring, a heady, delightful cocktail turning her godlike; invincible. Somewhere between the seventh shot and the cocaine, she felt sobered up. Bellowing along to the radio, she drove along the meandering backroad without much trouble – all in the pursuit of more fun across town. The music blared: Ice cold, I roll my eyes at you, boy. Beth veered into the opposite lane a moment, but the road – mercifully – was empty. Distracted, she caught the glimmering edge of water in her periphery; a silver cut through the night. The olympic pool of the Country Club was uncovered, refracting beams of light in kaleidoscope hues. It was speaking to her, calling her in. Beth felt entranced by its glassy surface, the inaction of after-hours. She’d never been a member, never would be. All she wanted to do was douse her body in that water. Just once.  She pulled haphazardly off to the side, jarring to a stop. Definitely too drunk to be driving.

               “Babe,” Beth declared loudly, eyes still peeled on the water in the distance. “I want to go swimming.”

It had been months since her last night out with a friend. She had no idea when had she turned this boring, but after all this time, Victoria agreed on going out with Beth for a night. Nothing too bad could happen, the worst being not being able to get up the next morning from the terrible hangover, but that would only mean she succeeded in her fun night out. Of course, with not being out in a while, Victoria was out of practice and missing every single drink she hadn’t have, every single excess. It was just midnight when someone broke the first line and by two in the morning she had lost count of how many tequila shots she had taken after the fifth one. She felt young again, no doubt about that, and was surprised herself to still feel alright– of course, her world was spinning but she could still handle her high heels and her energy was still as high as it had been at the beginning of the night if not even more. Beth looked much more put together than Victoria the moment they left the club so it was fine for her to be driving them back– except that they were not driving back home.