Sanctuary

Song of the Day:: Run Lola Run Soundtrack - Tykwer/Klimek/Heil - Running Two
Quote of the Day:: " Experience is this sinking feeling that you have made this mistake before."
Sometimes all you want is something that isn't yours.

"Its always been about surroundings. Call me shallow, call me spoiled, but one glimpse of my home and you will hate the tragic hovel you go home to. You know the one, the one with the institution white walls that will never see artwork other than a child's painting, and the stall shower you have to yoga your way through a leg shave in. The kitchen with the formica counters from an expired decade and cabinet decor that the landlord will raise your rent to rip out and modernize. But not me, there isn't a power left on the planet that will drag me back into that setting.
Floor to ceiling windows, $1200 duchess satin drapes, imported Italian leather couches, and a bathtub large enough to drown a queen sized bed. Keeping a loft in Hollywood was somewhat of a hobby for me. Mostly because no one ever saw it. Anyone who knew me knew of an apartment I kept deep in the heart of Studio City. Outfitted in the that kind of furniture you saw in porno flicks, a fridge full of alcohol and no food, and a bedroom that had the same sheets on the bed from the day I bought it. Don't get me wrong I'm always open for a social gathering, but I never felt to comfortable with the idea of leaving my unconscious body somewhere I didn't know was absolutely safe. Call it paranoia, call it what you will, I call it Californian. And yes, if you're wondering, I am that girl. I'm perfect on your arm, always a delight to be with, I'm the kind of girl who shows you an amazing time and makes you feel like you are the center of the universe when, quite frankly, its your wealth of possibilities that's really the object of my affections. I'm that girl that pretends to be sleeping. I'm that girl that sneaks out at 2 am strapping on my shoes outside by my car.
I'm that girl that businessmen fear, the one they want to love but cant afford the prenup. I maintain company until I get that all too familiar urge to flee. The worst escapes are those in Beverly Hills. I adore the amazing mansions in Beverly hills, I mean really, who doesn't. But there is nothing more annoying than attempting an escape with a security guard at the front gate that logs your arrival and departure times. Nothing says "I love you" like a 2 am departure. Anyone who asked questions immediately became a threat to my comfort of living and therefore was never heard from again. No not in the way you're thinking, they just suddenly had reason to leave town and never come back. A call to the wife was easiest, arrange a time and a place and a lack of clothing and no one wants to stay. There were the few tips to the IRS, and once the FBI, those were interesting to say the least, but lets not get ahead of ourselves too quickly. I'm not a sadist, merely a survivalist. To my knowledge, no one ever knew where I really slept; the insomnia helped, that and the random amount of coke i shoved up my nose on a daily basis.
The only place in the greater Los Angeles area that had a doorman who would kill at the drop of a bill. Dexter had to be my favorite man. He once cut the fingers off one man who broke my wrist when   I told him I wasn't for sale. He also drugged and phototgraphed the FBI rooting through the trash of his 4 million dollar estate. Dexter, needless to say, was a beautiful man, though he had amazing moments of boyish glances and upon opening the main floor door kept a warm hand on the small of my back that felt like home. He was six three with that Russian animal look about him, skin taut against the amazingly structured bones of his face; his smiles always curled the corners of his mouth like he had a secret. With the body structure of an Olympic diver, that I only caught a glance of once when I ran into him changing shifts with Murry, who i will get to later. I walked around the corner of blank and blank and saw him, just outside the front door, bend slightly to light his cigarette, sheltering his cheap Bic lighter from the wind of blank avenue. I stopped and began looting through my purse, pretending to look for anything while I watched him through my Chanel sunglasses. He wore a suit the entire time I knew him. He tossed his hat into the backseat of a convertible GTO that sat in front of the building, stopping to take a drag from his cigarette he pulled at the double knotted black $300 tie I demand he wear, tossed it aside the hat and began to work the brooks brothers jacket from his shoulders. Color me voyeur. I watched him work off each button while he let small trails of smoke slip from his nostrils. It was like watching Adonis. I saw his shoulders first as he pulled off his shirt, sun kissed to perfection, with a muscle tone that even made me blush. The white tank top he work clung to his skin a bit showing off his washboard abs, the kind that they airbrush onto Calvin Klein models."

Thats all for now.