Categories > Original > Romance > Sid's French Angel
Forbidden Touch
0 reviewsWe see Adele's point of view on why Sid was so cold to her, now we see his point of view and the resioning behind it....(contains heavy language)
0Unrated
Sid flinched and gasped as he turned his head. He was laying in bed, sleeping, and was having a nightmare.
A nightmare of Nancy killing Adele.
He yelled out and lunged up in the bed, breathing hard and looked around the room. Rain was plastering the windows; casting odd and frightening shadows around the room.
“What is into you man?” he asked himself quietly and rubbed his face with his hands as he fell back on the bed. “Probably Nancy . . .” he muttered to himself. Sid shook his head and turned his head to look out the window.
No . . .
He remembered the beautiful sound of her laughter . . . how it sounded like the tinkling of church bells on Sunday. He remembered how it sounded so beautiful. How it reminded him of innocence . . . and her smile . . . how it shone in the gray days of his life like a beacon of light.
He remembered her trotting down the sidewalk of Green Park in London, her black stiletto heels clacking on the sidewalk and her black hair was a sheet of long black ink flowing behind her. His jacket that she wore was trailing behind her and she spun around and stopped, laughing as she allowed him to walk up and take her into his arms; a slight grin on his face and laughter in his voice as he spoke loving sweet nothings to her. Loving sweet nothings that he knew would never reach Nancy’s ears. How the people watched in fascination at how a beautiful super model was paired with the Punk Prince of Darkness.
He remembered not caring.
It was particularly cold that day, he recalls, for a winter day at Green Park. The sky was gray and it looked like snow but no matter how much Sid would beg and plead that they go back to the hotel room; Adele would not relent. She was struck by the park’s beauty, for it rivaled that of her own county; France’s park, Vanoise National Park.
And when it did begin to snow . . . she danced. She danced in the cold December rain while everyone watched in awe and as Sid stood under the black umbrella that he was holding in his leather gloved hands; watching her, marveling in her beauty and womanly, wily charms that Nancy didn’t seem to have; and he took satisfaction in his slight voyeuristic pleasure.
It was so easy to forget things when he was with Adele. He would forget about the band, about himself and his problems, even about Nancy. Good Lord, it was so easy to forget about Nancy when he was with his darling Adele.
They arrived back at the hotel and arrived at her room where Adele turned around to face him and as Sid peeled the wet, dark gray woolen scarf off from around his neck.
She looked down. “I’m sorry I took you away from the band and from . . . her.” she said and Sid immediately knew that she was talking about Nancy. She silently started peeling off Sid’s wet coat from her body and he lightly, lovingly, touched her hand.
She looked at him and he shook his head. “No, you keep it. I have a million other leather coats, why can I not spare another one?” he asked her and she smiled a small smile.
“Do-do you want to come in? I don’t have heroin or anything like that, but I do have coffee,”
Sid smiled. “I would love that Adele, but Nancy’s probably missing me,” he said and Adele’s face fell.
He felt a surge of love shoot up his spine and spread throughout his body and he thought he felt that kind of undeniable-couldn’t-possibly-live-without-you love for her that was only reserved for one person in your life.
She nodded. “O-okay . . . I guess I’ll see you later then Sid.” she said as she turned to open the door but his hand caught her’s. She gasped and turned around, her beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise and confusion at yet again, the loving, gentle touch. She looked into his eyes that was now filled to the brim with desire.
He drew her cold, wet, shaking body to his and kissed her. It was more loving than passionate or romantic. Her gloved hand moved to grip the back of his neck, and they broke apart, their breathing ragged and he smiled warmly and whispered,
“Nancy can wait Adele.”
Sid didn’t leave Adele’s room until the next morning. He lay there, Adele cuddled in his arms and him, not even sleepy. He should be though. He hasn’t had sex without the influence of Heroin in so damn long and it felt . . . good. It should have left him sleepy beyond belief, hungry and not to mention craving a decent fag though.
She stirred again and his body immediately jumped into awareness. Jesus he hated how his body was in overdrive when he was around her; but then again, when he looked down at her, he found that he didn’t mind so much. She smiled up at him and said two simple words that captivated him to no end,
“Damn Sid,”
Sid opened the door the next morning to find the room surprisingly dim compared to Adele’s bright and sunny one. He hung up his coat in the hall closet and closed the door, only to find Nancy standing in front of him, her hand on her hips and a look of anger on her face.
Sid sighed and looked down at the floor. Her dirty blonde hair was lank and greasy, and she still had mascara and eye shadow on from yesterday in order to try and cover up the deep black shadows collecting under her eyes. She was wearing a pink silky nightgown and floor length robe with soft pink high heels. That and she smelled like she hadn’t taken a shower in weeks.
“Where were you?” she snarled. “I was worried about you all night.”
Sid said nothing, just plopped his still wet scarf on the nearby end table and Nancy’s eyes narrowed into hateful little slits. “Oh, I know where you were! You were next door with that little French slut!” she yelled. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I heard you guys all night. I couldn’t sleep because she was next door, being fucked by you and moaning your name like a little whore! Oh Sid, oh Sid, harder! Oh give me a fucking break!”
She then grabbed a mirror with the last remnants of cocaine and hurtled it at him. He ducked and it slammed into the far wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. “What does she have that I don’t have Sid? Is it because she’s got dark hair? No? Well what about the fact that she’s French? Still no? Well do you like the way she fucks you, or sucks your cock or what?!” she screamed as she grabbed an expensive wine glass and threw it at him.
“Bitch, what are you on?” Sid yelled as he dodged the wine glass.
“Oh I get it Sid. You love her so much because she has a heart. She’s pure inside, untainted by drugs and alcohol. She orgasms, she sucks, she fucks, she moans! She’s got personality!” Nancy was crying now and she fell to her knees to the ground. She landed on broken chucks of glass and Sid noted with sick amusement that Nancy was starting to bleed profusely from her knees.
“Why do you love her so much Sid? You spend more time with her than you do me! When your on tour and she’s not there, you’re a fucking wreak without her! Why Sid why?” she sobbed.
I love her . . .
Sid shook his head as the thought entered his mind. “Nancy your high, your-”
“Yes, damn right I’m high!” she said and grinned maniacally. “And if I ever figure out that you’ve been seeing that little French slut again, I’ll kill the little bitch Sid, I swear to God that I will!” she said shrilly, and a bolt of fear shot up Sid’s spine.
Somewhere deep in his heart of hearts, he knew Nancy wasn’t kidding.
A nightmare of Nancy killing Adele.
He yelled out and lunged up in the bed, breathing hard and looked around the room. Rain was plastering the windows; casting odd and frightening shadows around the room.
“What is into you man?” he asked himself quietly and rubbed his face with his hands as he fell back on the bed. “Probably Nancy . . .” he muttered to himself. Sid shook his head and turned his head to look out the window.
No . . .
He remembered the beautiful sound of her laughter . . . how it sounded like the tinkling of church bells on Sunday. He remembered how it sounded so beautiful. How it reminded him of innocence . . . and her smile . . . how it shone in the gray days of his life like a beacon of light.
He remembered her trotting down the sidewalk of Green Park in London, her black stiletto heels clacking on the sidewalk and her black hair was a sheet of long black ink flowing behind her. His jacket that she wore was trailing behind her and she spun around and stopped, laughing as she allowed him to walk up and take her into his arms; a slight grin on his face and laughter in his voice as he spoke loving sweet nothings to her. Loving sweet nothings that he knew would never reach Nancy’s ears. How the people watched in fascination at how a beautiful super model was paired with the Punk Prince of Darkness.
He remembered not caring.
It was particularly cold that day, he recalls, for a winter day at Green Park. The sky was gray and it looked like snow but no matter how much Sid would beg and plead that they go back to the hotel room; Adele would not relent. She was struck by the park’s beauty, for it rivaled that of her own county; France’s park, Vanoise National Park.
And when it did begin to snow . . . she danced. She danced in the cold December rain while everyone watched in awe and as Sid stood under the black umbrella that he was holding in his leather gloved hands; watching her, marveling in her beauty and womanly, wily charms that Nancy didn’t seem to have; and he took satisfaction in his slight voyeuristic pleasure.
It was so easy to forget things when he was with Adele. He would forget about the band, about himself and his problems, even about Nancy. Good Lord, it was so easy to forget about Nancy when he was with his darling Adele.
They arrived back at the hotel and arrived at her room where Adele turned around to face him and as Sid peeled the wet, dark gray woolen scarf off from around his neck.
She looked down. “I’m sorry I took you away from the band and from . . . her.” she said and Sid immediately knew that she was talking about Nancy. She silently started peeling off Sid’s wet coat from her body and he lightly, lovingly, touched her hand.
She looked at him and he shook his head. “No, you keep it. I have a million other leather coats, why can I not spare another one?” he asked her and she smiled a small smile.
“Do-do you want to come in? I don’t have heroin or anything like that, but I do have coffee,”
Sid smiled. “I would love that Adele, but Nancy’s probably missing me,” he said and Adele’s face fell.
He felt a surge of love shoot up his spine and spread throughout his body and he thought he felt that kind of undeniable-couldn’t-possibly-live-without-you love for her that was only reserved for one person in your life.
She nodded. “O-okay . . . I guess I’ll see you later then Sid.” she said as she turned to open the door but his hand caught her’s. She gasped and turned around, her beautiful blue eyes wide with surprise and confusion at yet again, the loving, gentle touch. She looked into his eyes that was now filled to the brim with desire.
He drew her cold, wet, shaking body to his and kissed her. It was more loving than passionate or romantic. Her gloved hand moved to grip the back of his neck, and they broke apart, their breathing ragged and he smiled warmly and whispered,
“Nancy can wait Adele.”
Sid didn’t leave Adele’s room until the next morning. He lay there, Adele cuddled in his arms and him, not even sleepy. He should be though. He hasn’t had sex without the influence of Heroin in so damn long and it felt . . . good. It should have left him sleepy beyond belief, hungry and not to mention craving a decent fag though.
She stirred again and his body immediately jumped into awareness. Jesus he hated how his body was in overdrive when he was around her; but then again, when he looked down at her, he found that he didn’t mind so much. She smiled up at him and said two simple words that captivated him to no end,
“Damn Sid,”
Sid opened the door the next morning to find the room surprisingly dim compared to Adele’s bright and sunny one. He hung up his coat in the hall closet and closed the door, only to find Nancy standing in front of him, her hand on her hips and a look of anger on her face.
Sid sighed and looked down at the floor. Her dirty blonde hair was lank and greasy, and she still had mascara and eye shadow on from yesterday in order to try and cover up the deep black shadows collecting under her eyes. She was wearing a pink silky nightgown and floor length robe with soft pink high heels. That and she smelled like she hadn’t taken a shower in weeks.
“Where were you?” she snarled. “I was worried about you all night.”
Sid said nothing, just plopped his still wet scarf on the nearby end table and Nancy’s eyes narrowed into hateful little slits. “Oh, I know where you were! You were next door with that little French slut!” she yelled. “Oh yeah, that’s right. I heard you guys all night. I couldn’t sleep because she was next door, being fucked by you and moaning your name like a little whore! Oh Sid, oh Sid, harder! Oh give me a fucking break!”
She then grabbed a mirror with the last remnants of cocaine and hurtled it at him. He ducked and it slammed into the far wall, where it shattered into a million pieces. “What does she have that I don’t have Sid? Is it because she’s got dark hair? No? Well what about the fact that she’s French? Still no? Well do you like the way she fucks you, or sucks your cock or what?!” she screamed as she grabbed an expensive wine glass and threw it at him.
“Bitch, what are you on?” Sid yelled as he dodged the wine glass.
“Oh I get it Sid. You love her so much because she has a heart. She’s pure inside, untainted by drugs and alcohol. She orgasms, she sucks, she fucks, she moans! She’s got personality!” Nancy was crying now and she fell to her knees to the ground. She landed on broken chucks of glass and Sid noted with sick amusement that Nancy was starting to bleed profusely from her knees.
“Why do you love her so much Sid? You spend more time with her than you do me! When your on tour and she’s not there, you’re a fucking wreak without her! Why Sid why?” she sobbed.
I love her . . .
Sid shook his head as the thought entered his mind. “Nancy your high, your-”
“Yes, damn right I’m high!” she said and grinned maniacally. “And if I ever figure out that you’ve been seeing that little French slut again, I’ll kill the little bitch Sid, I swear to God that I will!” she said shrilly, and a bolt of fear shot up Sid’s spine.
Somewhere deep in his heart of hearts, he knew Nancy wasn’t kidding.
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