Circles

Mm...Sayuri thought of an idea..a short drabble. A very short drabble. Nothing much.


~

...

She had such bright crimson lips, he mused. They reminded him of blood - his blood, to be precise - which was nothing short of the truth. He loved biting women's lips; bitterly sweet and tender, they were an elegant juicy morsel, a fine delicacy amongst his daily dirt encrusted rations.

Unfortunately, once in a while, she'd breathe softly, "Not today." All traces of former seductive natures would vanish in thin air. He'd smirk, refusing to convey disappointment.

"Another day, love."

And he'd move on, because after all, who was he to linger in the presence of merely one feminine body? Leaving her in a pile of stockings and various pettycoats, feeling strangely lost.

Tortuga was, certainly, the prime target of his fantasies. Rum, women, violence...

Once in a while, a neither beautiful nor ugly dame would sidle up to him, huskily whispering, "Jack Sparrow." And he'd only too willingly concede, being one with the unique part of his entity. What made him Jack. What created him. What let him breathe this subtle air of freedom.

Some days he'd allow. Some days he couldn't not resist temptation.

So when a fair lass attempted on prying free of his voracious cravings, he would grin, and whisper,

"I'm Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

And life would repeat.

Over and over...