Darklite Musing- story must begin

ONE: Chev, Kidd join friends

One
Random laid night crept around unlighted porch, below legs shuffle without feet in hanging jeans. This place of house suffered things of naught, add nausea, rituals of opening and closing, coming and going. Dark squeals into night and relentless red intonations succomb to record, where the pounding inadvertent bump in the night saves in nail and wood fiber until after ages their maker recalls, deems minion sound useful for judgement. Nature groans for their release, out of memory, even so come, come in. James rams shoulder into door frame, hinge lets go of screen.

The window height sees and is seen, manicured drapperies wiggle in cloth where stiff to Chev's touch lay open. She longs for heat in a mirage that fills the void between glass and light, an exhibit of silhouette, where hands pull insides out in a menagerie.

"Chev," Kidd moaned, you do see, don't you?"

"We're open book, keep scribling, ah, finished already," she said distantly.

James interrupted at the door, "sorry" he turned. Professor Kidd Ripley unwraps. Chevelle didn't twitch, "don't" she motioned Kidd back in a longing fog, "it's only James. Where you goin'? Can't you stay, this once?" She smiled sideways, patting down his leg.

"The door," James said, "when no one came, I thought it safe."

"Who said, no one came, Chev smirked in Kidd's direction, "where's Sarah and Rache?"

"Later," James'said, red couldn't keep from looking face, "they stopped, wanted beer with their take out. Proffesor you leaving so soon, I just got here. Aren't you hungry? I mean, it's late. Oh forget it."

The door creaked in the heat of embarrassment managed to close with a crack. "Chev just followed him out," James said. So I was beatin on the door, and interrupted Kidd on Chev."

"Uh, huh, I see, now you're a peepin tom," Rache said, "you'll fix the door ofcourse."

"Yeah whatever," he said. "You hear me, Chevelle, Prof Kidd wrecked, car around pole."

"Such a bad girl," Sarah said

"But we love her," chimed Rache.

"We do?" asked James.

"Your slips showing," Rache said, you'll never have that again, face it James, Kidd will make sure of that."

"Kidd's a grade," he said, " who playin' who, Chev gave the thong, civilization's in decay."

"James, You'll have that, but do you really want it, Rache, God damn girl, now who's slip showing," Sarah said.

"I never wore the fuckin' thing" he said.

"Bad girls like our beloved Chev," Sarah said, scooping beans back in her burrito, "burn up reentering earth's orbit. Her sex life alone reads better in bed who's who, hooters and shooters are more than enough for sweet college boys, but Washington has no wake up calls, give her a year or two, she drops the ispy, runs home to local enforcement. James gets a second chance, maybe Mike."

"The prophetess speaks, Rache get the incense, I'll spill the chicken blood.

"It's not undercooked is it, Rache asked, I don't want to die of somenilla."