The Dancer and the Writer

It’s six o’clock in the morning. Fuh uh uh uh uck me.
Maybe if she would let somebody fuck her, she would be up at six o’clock in the morning. I know it’s not right to hate her but just look at her over there, not even leaning on a chair for balance. She’s got her right leg straight up in the air with her knee next to her ear. Thank god she’s got tights on this morning; neither of us has gotten over the awkwardness of the pink panties lip slip morning.

Quit smiling at me you freaking sadist and just give your half of the rent.

OH there she goes, a little lady like sip of your freshly juiced whatever the fuck. You know if you juiced that shit at night, I would not have to get up at six o’clock in the god forsaken morning to the sound of vegetables, fruit and tofu being put to a slow death.

That’s it; there you go; now the left leg, all the way up to the left ear. Do you think if she got both legs around her ears at once she couldn’t hear me tell her to seriously fuck off?

Oh OK, she finished. What the hell is she looking at me for; I am supposed to perform some sort of ritualistic warm up for my day. If she can even spell ballerina she’s probably too weak from hunger to do it in one sitting. That’s alright, I’ll give her a show; my morning stretches.

CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK CRACK!

Ten knuckles one right after the other; timed like the radio city rocketts doing a chorus line kick one raised leg then the next, preformed by my agile fingers. Now a quick pirouette and plie’ into my ergonomically correct chair, perfectly positioned in front of my monitor. Look at the smirk; I think she might even be a little jealous of me.

“I’m gonna to shower if you don’t need it, k?
“K, sure go ahead.”

I don’t need it right now; I’m on a deadline, I’m stuck and, she knows it. The shower can wait! I’d be lucky to finish to this thing by the deadline if I start now and don’t move from my seat for the remaining three days. Fuh uh uh uh uck me.

I wonder if I’m getting a little funky. Let me get my arm straight up in the air by my ear so I can get a little whiff. Not bad, I’ll last a little longer, especially if I have lunch delivered. And the other arm; still OK. Oh my gawd, I wonder if that what’s she doing every morning with leg business. She’s checking to see if she can skip the shower.