*This piece is inspired by the world F. Scott Fitzgerald created in the famous ‘The Great Gatsby’ and is set in the early 1920’s. Bearcat: a lively, spirited woman, possibly with a fiery streak*
Wine soaked lips overwhelm the edge of my petite whiskey tumbler; her eyes glassy with alcohol or maybe loneliness. I had only met her twice – once being when she was sprawled on her back being ravished by an older gentleman and secondly, this very moment. She was a woman of mystery and melancholy. The older gentleman, Mr Simmons, was heavily blessed with fortune which I assume made up for the unfortunate, screwed up grimace he was born with. Inherited wealth ensured he was delectable to any young woman with a dream of nothing but luxury and lounging. I had spent many a day picturing myself in her shoes; her crimson heels that she crushed her delicate little toes in to. I imagined the superiority that came with them, the newfound confidence and carelessness I would acquire simply by being three inches taller. Her shoulders bare the prettiest of garments and heavy cargo of her inconspicuous past. I would have done almost anything to lay in her silk sheets and inhale the scent of powdery cosmetics and Chanel No.5.
Our first encounter was at a glorious residence at one of the most highly coveted parties of the decade – the host, going by the name Gatsby, was ambiguous and anonymous. I don’t think I’ve ever come across somebody who has seen him in the flesh. He has gallivanted around Europe and shimmied shoulders with royalty or so I heard from a bobbed blonde with tequila on her tongue. His enormous estate stood proud on the pier of West Egg, though the architecture was grand, many had noted it was but a simulation of a lavish hotel in Normandy. I, for one, only care for the impressive library which sleeps deeply in the far-right wing. I had spent the majority of my evening manoeuvring my bobby pin through the paper of the uncut books; pondering why Gatsby, the seemingly well-educated man, had so many intact texts.
Her scandalous, knee-length dress swayed as her hips did, the beads swirled spontaneously around her waist then back again. I gazed at her figure as she pirouetted on the marbled floor, my eyes unfocused from everything else but she. The background became a warm, blurred vignette – framing the dream-like sequence. I almost didn’t notice her approach me, her mild hand pawing at my arm.
“I’ve seen you staring at me all night, want to dance?” her voice was hoarser than usual, maybe a side effect from all the hysteric screaming she had done whilst cavorting in the pool. My reply was a simple smile and she laced her fingers in mine and span me out onto the tiles. I was so content in that moment – until he arrived.
*Thanks for taking the time to read my work! I’m just a small girl with big dreams, I’ve been attempting to make my love of writing into a full-time occupation but unfortunately people just don’t take the time to appreciate writing. If you could help a girl out with her aspirations that would be deeply appreciated: Pay me back using my PayPal.Me link: https://www.paypal.me/mawleh *