She was watching them fuck. He was ugly and had a big nose, she was young and pretty - he pulled her hair and growled. The scene reminded her of some French movie, until, all of a sudden, he pulled out his dick and started pissing all over the pretty face. Certain urgency came over her while watching the girl trying to cover her face under the stream that seemed stronger than it was. At once, she stopped being a silent observer, because he started to piss all over her as well. She started running. The whole situation started evaporating while she was swiftly walking down the street. She wasn’t sure if it actually were her who was fucking him. How rude! It was malicious, and rude, and indecent, really, just inappropriate. She was not happy at all. She saw him walking behind her, in no rush. From afar, he look like Serge Gainsbourg, his face wrinkling in a mean smile. She was trying really hard to move away from him, but the street was rocky and up the hill, covered with a thin layer of snow and ice. Her feet were sticking to the ground, and she had to hold her knees and put them one in front of the other in order to move. She wasn’t panicking, but she really wanted to get as far away from him as possible.
The street was leading to a small square. She found herself in a village on the seacoast, it seemed. The square was old, surrounded by pretty houses such as in a fairy-tale, each different than the last, recognizable by something special. She realized she would have nowhere to sleep that night, after the situation with her lover. She realized all of the houses were b&b, so she went looking for a bed. She turned left and went up wide, white stairs, it seemed as though she was climbing forever. She pushed the door and found herself in an atrium. It was all glass, all white, all beautiful. There was a blond man waiting for her. He seemed nice but reserved. She asked about accommodation, but he didn’t seem to understand her. Now she started panicking, because she knew Serge wouldn’t give up, and she needed to hide as soon as possible. The man seemed really slow. She asked him if there was anyone else at home, and his mother appeared, smiling for days. The woman was carrying ten different kinds of cakes, so she started doubting this situation. The woman said they could accommodate her, but she realized she didn’t have any money. In that moment, she saw Serge sitting in a cafe next door, looking at her through the window of an atrium, with a mean, mean smile. She couldn’t stay there, of course, but the woman insisted. She said she was hiding, but he found her - the woman said they could protect her. She didn’t believe them, because the man was slow and the cakes were many. She took a turn and started walking behind the houses, so the sun was hidden. She saw the entrance of the last house in a row, the one made of red bricks. She climbed the narrow stairs and found herself beneath the attic doors. She peeped in, and saw three black men inside, playing cards. They noticed her, and the youngest got up, pulling out a gun. What the fuck, she thought, and started running, but he caught her hand and said, don’t worry, this is a fake one. He showed her how his toy worked, and she started laughing, they were both rolling on the floor laughing. She told him she was broke and running from her lover, she had nowhere to sleep. Up the stairs again, she found herself in a room that looked like an abandoned warehouse. Inside, there were rows and rows of girls sitting and painting, with a blank expression on their faces. He took her to her mattress and painting spot. She met a few girls there, and one of them started talking to her as if they knew each other forever. But they had never met, and she told her that. The girl claimed they did, and she tried to make her remember her name? Clementine? Whatever, she was now aware they had indeed met before. Life carried on in an orderly fashion, as much as that is possible in a room full of girls. They were left to their own devices, black men were nowhere to be found again.
One night, they were at some party. As the dawn was cracking over her boredom, she walked home. The street was again covered with a thin layer of ice. In front of her, a man and an old woman were walking. Everything was in slow motion. She saw two astronauts walking as well, and she remembered someone told her today was National Moon Day. Suddenly, out of the snow, an old man jumped out, and started shooting in their direction. They were too far so he couldn’t hit them, but she was scared. She started yelling at the man and the old woman, telling them to run away, but they ignored her. She couldn’t see what happened with them because she hid behind a street sign. Under the gunshots, she ran into an entrance of some old, communist building and climbed the last floor. She knew it was Serge shooting, he reappeared. As she was thinking what to do, two of her friends appeared.
They told her she was late, they were waiting for her to go to the beach. They gave her a towel and took her out. On the other side of the building, afternoon soon was shining, and many pines were lined by the beach. She was still in shock. Her friends were talking non-stop, talking about how excited they are to go to the beach. They came about a building made of wooden terraces. There was a large pillar in the middle of it, and around it in rectangle shape, there were plateaus. There were 8 floors. They sat at a table on the first floor and ordered coffee. It was a pleasant afternoon, but she was still nervous. She wondered if Serge could go through the portal and find her. The waiter came to her and told her that the sun was very bad for her and it would be best if she left. Her friends became angry with him, but she realized he was warning her of danger. As she realized that, they understood as well, and suddenly they stopped talking and became action heroes. They told her there was a ship waiting for them at the port, and they started running towards it. There was a big, yellow, shiny egg swimming in the water. Her friend jumped in, and she was at the deck, eating lasagna. The danger passed. Her good friend from a past life appeared and asked her for a bit of lasagna. She gave it to him, and he threw it away. She started explaining the danger Serge posed for her, but he didn’t agree with her. He started to annoy her, and then she saw Serge appear on the beach. She asked her friend to help her close the egg, which he did. She was now alone, inside a golden egg. She felt nice, carried by the waves, safe in the dark.
*Edit: I noticed I got a downvote, and I assume it's due to the language. I understand that it can be offensive to some. How can I make my post NSFW and avoid this issue? Anyway, I used this tag, so hopefully that is enough.
**Edit: I checked out my steemd and noticed I was downvoted by https://steemit.com/@asshole. He's on a meaningless spree! Hopefully this issue gets noticed and resolved asap. In the light of this amazing discovery, I've removed the tag. However, I'd like to ask you what do you think - language - offensive or not?
I was lucky to find these illustrations that perfectly compliment my story! Check out the source: http://theredlist.com/wiki-2-343-918-225-390-view-poetic-1-profile-gottardo-alessandro.html