While the Jukebox Played

This was originally posted at Daily Picspiration on July 19, 2015

Title: While the Jukebox Played

I’d been working vice for years. This was going to be the case that scored me my shield.

Six months chasing down The Orchid. She’d evaded me this long, but a tip from a CI scored me the chance to arrange a meet. I was in the middle of the street when she’d pinged me. My phone lit up like a firecracker.

“Lose the sweatshirt and meet me at The Juke in 15.”

I looked around cautiously. She clearly had eyes on me. The crowded street made it impossible to tell who her minion was.

I dropped my eyes back to my phone to check the time. I knew seedy nightclub was only a ten minute walk. I tucked my phone back in my pocket and walked as if I didn’t have a care in the world. My heart was racing.

The adrenaline had the better of me, though, and I made the walk in eight minutes. I looked up and down the street. No cars. No pedestrians. Completely eerie.

I shed my sweatshirt and stuffed it into a nearby dumpster. I did a walk around the block to burn time and nervous energy. I was finally getting a meet with the Head Mistress of Gambling.

By the time I made it back to the entrance of The Juke, I met the 15 minute mark. I ran my hands over my hair to smooth it back from my face. I reached for the door latch with my thumb and pressed the release.

Smoke occupied the top third of the room and the prominent jukebox was blaring some kind of techno-new wave funk. The bar seemed filthy and empty.

“Hello, girl.”

The voice came from a dimly lit corner.

I mustered the courage to reply, “Hello. You must be The Orchid.”

“I am.”

I took three quick steps into the room.

I instantly realized my mistake.

The guns cocked from behind me.

This was going to be the case that scored me my shield.

I barely had time to register her beautiful face before the lackeys opened fire.

The Graveyard

This was originally posted at Daily Picspiration on July 6, 2015.

Title: The Graveyard

“Hurry up, Hitch! We’re almost there!” Blaze ran as fast as his legs would carry him. He had discovered this place on his last adventure and was eager to share it with his best friend.

“I’m trying, Blaze. You’re too fast!” Hitch hadn’t yet hit a growth spurt, so Blaze stood nearly a head taller. His legs burned and his chest heaved as he tried to keep up with his friend. The permanent crook in his knee didn’t help things either. He looked ahead to see how far his red-headed friend had gotten ahead of him. Blaze was already breaking around the corner. Hitch struggled to turn the corner, but when he did, the sight was amazing. It was everything Blaze had described.

Abandoned ancient vehicles. Cars from the 1930’s and 40’s lined up one after one like train cars for as far as he could see. They were rusty and old. And they were beautiful. The metallic smell of oxidation and daisies overwhelmed his brain and his heart. It was so stunning, Hitch nearly cried. Old pick up trucks missing their beds. Coupes with rumble seats. Hitch had never seen anything like it. Only in picture pages did he see glimpses of the past.

“See! I told you. It’s a car graveyard. It’s like they drove here to die. I bet your great-great-great-great-great grandpa had one of these!”

“But Blaze, isn’t it weird that there isn’t anything newer here? I mean...no 1980’s. No 2015’s. No 2035’s. Isn’t that weird to you?”

“Naw, man! Let’s go! Dibs on the rusty sedan over there!” And with his claim made, Blaze sprinted toward his car.

Something felt very wrong about this place. Hitch was no dummy.

Blaze ran to his car and threw open the door. It relented with a screeching groan.

“Blaze, I don’t think…”

“C’mon Hitch! I’m driving!”

“...this is such a good…”

Blaze slammed the door shut. Everything went hauntingly silent.

“...idea.”

Hitch did his best to swallow the fear creeping up his gut like Boston ivy. He cautiously walked to the car Blaze had climbed into. “Blaze?” he tested cautiously. “Blaze, get outta there. We gotta make dinner.”

Complete silence.

The car was empty.

Blaze had vanished.

Hitch wept and ran for home.

The graveyard smiled.

The Parking Lot

                The look. I recognized it. I’d seen it before. That was all it took to get me to move.

                “It’s been awesome guys, but I think I’m calling it for tonight.”

                The usual groans of protest and pleas to stay followed.

                Not a chance.  I knew that look. That flash of fire that she gave only me. The look that danced across her face so quickly that anyone who didn’t know her would never catch. The look that left no doubt what she wanted and made me rock fucking hard.

                By the time I’d made my way outside, she was halfway to the car. I saw her unlock the doors and slide into the back seat. Fucking hell.

                I did a quick left-right look and crossed the deserted street to the parking lot. Unable to do anything but think about tasting her, I closed the remaining distance to the car with a jog.

                I found her in the backseat on her back with her skirt pulled up and underwear tossed to the side. She slid her dripping wet fingers from cunt and sucked on them. She used her other hand to beckon me into the car. Every move she made was slow and fluid, as if she were made of molten glass. But I knew her limits. I knew she would not break.

                I leaned into the car and buried my tongue between her legs. I heard her moan. I felt her raise her hips. The smell of the car leather and her pussy made my cock even harder. And she knew it.

                I ate her cunt. Hard. Greedily. Sucking everything I could from it. Biting her. Licking her. Each flick of my tongue demanding attention from her clit. Each movement of my lips begging her silently to cum. And within a matter of minutes, she did. She screamed and moaned and said my name over and over. She bucked and twisted against my face as her body let wave after wave of orgasm bathe her. And finally with ragged breath, she settled her ass back on to the seat. Her fingers left their entanglement in my hair and cradled my face as I looked up at her.

                She was gorgeous.

                Absolutely stunning.

                And mine.

                “You next?” she asked with a crooked smile.

                “Oh no,” I answered, my own lust making my voice heavy. “I’m taking you home for a proper fucking.”

The Game: Part One

                I told him he had to wait for the signal. I knew he’d wait for as long as I wanted. So I calmly sat at the bar and sipped my bourbon. Another fifteen minutes wouldn’t bother me, and the anticipation would drive him crazy in all the good ways. I could feel his eyes on my back from all the way across the room. I could nearly feel his breath on my neck. The air was electric in this old hotel, and the scent of oil polish from the beautiful mahogany bar made me heady. It was one of the most exquisite places in Old Town. Certainly, it was where I’d long pictured this scene playing out.

                Finally, I finished my drink. I reached into my purse and left the bartender a cash tip. I picked up the nearly empty glass to get the last bit of warmth from the bourbon. As I set it down on the bar, I tapped my forefinger three times on the rim of the empty glass. 

                The game was on.

                By the time I swiveled in the barstool and touched my heels to the ground, he’d already left his perch and headed for The Room. I noted the ding from the elevator and heard a tipsy couple enter the lobby. Their voices bounced off the tile floor in the wide open space, so I couldn’t tell if he’d entered the elevator or not. Their drunken giggles masked any chance of hearing the stairwell door closing. So whether he sprinted for the stairs or took his chances with the elevator, I couldn’t tell at this point.

                I smoothly shimmied down the hem of my navy dress and headed for the door leading to the lobby. I flipped the ends of my straightened hair over my shoulders so I could see everyone in my peripheral vision as I left. As I expected, several glances followed me to the door. The dress left little to the imagination with its curve hugging silhouette. I knew I had the hourglass to pull it off. This dress accomplished my goal of dropping some jaws.

                My heels made a soft click as I crossed the lobby to catch the elevator. There was only one lift, and I grinned when I saw the light shining for the up arrow. But after several moments, I realized that the elevator was still headed up. We were only on the fifth floor. He must have sent the cabin to the top floor to buy some additional time.

                Clever boy.

                The game was on.

                The elevator eventually made its way back to me, and the doors opened. I stepped in and pressed the button for floor five. The elevator rumbled its way to the fifth floor and opened its doors. The hallway turned to the left, and I followed the gaudy red and gold carpeting to room 506.

                I paused, if only for a split second, outside the door to listen for scamperings from within. I heard nothing. I grinned.

                I slid the key card into the lock and swung open the door.

                There he was. As promised.

                Clothes folded neatly on the corner of the cheap side table.

                Abeyante.

                Blindfolded.

                And beautifully naked.

                Only his efforts of trying to conceal his labored breathing betrayed his rush.

                The game was on.

 

Bound

                Suddenly, he was there. The unmistakable scent of cinnamon and nutmeg. His fingers twisted up in my hair. His lips racing across the flesh of my neck. Neither distance nor time mattered in this moment. My heart thundered in my chest. Tears slipped down my cheek. I knew he was only there for a few more heartbeats. It was our nightly ritual.

                Then I realized he’d been here too long.   

                I wasn’t aware I’d been holding my breath until he held my face in his hands and begged, “Come with me…”

                And I felt myself let go as I exhaled a final breath.

 

The Stones

 

                I tripped over my skirts several times while sprinting to The Stones.  It didn’t matter how torn my clothing was. It didn’t matter how ragged I looked. I couldn’t let him marry her. 

                The day started with the smell of distant snow in the air. There was surely to be a storm on this day that lead to the longest night. My morning chores were nearly complete when I reached into the pocket of my lamb’s wool cloak to warm my hands. I was surprised to find a letter stashed there. My hand trembled a bit as I unfolded the missive. Creighton’s familiar handwriting danced across the page. 

“I’m marrying Rhiannon. I do not want or need to hear from you again.”

                My overwhelming anguish manifested in a strangled sob. He’d loved me once. Or so he claimed. Wanted me. Needed me. He would tell me how his heart raced at the thought of us together. And now this letter exposed the depth of his lies. I felt my heart hammering in my chest while wrenching itself to pieces. I desperately fought to draw in air. My head was spinning, and all I could smell was the stench of bile as it rose its way from my twisted stomach.  I had to go to him.

                Father said he’d seen Creighton with Rhiannon and her druid earlier in the morn. I frantically searched the entire village for them, and they were nowhere to be found. It was nearly suncrest. I knew I had no time to waste. There was only one other place they could be.

                I grabbed my heaviest wrap and took off toward The Stones.

                Blinded by winter winds and scorching tears, I rubbed the back of my wool-wrapped hand across my leaking eyes. The snow fell harder and harder. It endangered my plan and nearly forced me to return to the safety of my home, but my desperation to see him overrode all reason. I had to hear it from his lips before I could truly believe the ugliness of his written words.

                I made it to The Stones just before the sun hit its zenith on the shortest day of the year. Three figures stood in the middle of The Stones. There was still time for me to intervene.

                I drew a deep breath into my blazing lungs. “CREIGHTON!” I screamed with every last ounce of strength I had. I fell to my hands and knees, exhausted. 

                My voice caused all three figures to turn toward me. The druid looked smug as he lowered his hands to his sides. Rhiannon looked radiant and triumphant. Creighton looked at me like he was reclaiming a long faded memory.

                I looked at Rhiannon. “Don’t do this,” I pleaded. But the incantations had already been chanted and the offerings had already been burnt.

                The sun peaked and bathed The Stones in white light. I raised my arm to shield my eyes from the glare. I saw the kiss they shared as a silhouette against the shimmering ice crystals. My love was lost. The ceremony was over. Creighton belonged to her.

                “You WITCH!” I screamed. I tried to stand, but my legs refused to heed my wishes. 

                Rhiannon leaned in close to Creighton’s ear. “Remember her.” It wasn’t a question. It was a command.

                Creighton turned to look at me. His eyes rushed full of tears while the bewitched memories came flooding back. “Lioslaith…” he whispered as his tears embodied his heartbreak.  

                “Now watch as your beloved dies,” Rhiannon purred.

                My eyes widened it terror. 

                Rhiannon lifted her graceful arm and backhanded the air.

                My head jerked violently to the left as my neck cracked.

                Darkness.

 

Human 76 and Sheshwahtay

Author's note: I always intended this blog to be about my work. I never wanted to tell a story before I told a story, and I never felt the need to add my personal voice to it. This post is a little something different. I've been lucky enough to be included in an anthology unlike anything I've ever read. And now here I am on Publishing Eve, trying to keep my shit together while my lifelong dreams finally  spread their wings. It's frightening and beautiful and awesome. It's intimidating and amazing. And it certainly wouldn't be possible without you, the reader.
So I give you a little snippet of my short story, Sheshwahtay, included in the Human 76 anthology. Enjoy.....and Sheshwahtay.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two Horns was up to his shenanigans again. 

“Give it here!” Red Foot screamed at her older brother. “Give me the doll!” She chased after him as he danced around her, holding the delicate, hand-made cornhusk doll just out of reach. 

“You’ll have to fight harder than that to get it, Little Sister. Catch me if you can!” He followed his taunt with a teasing look, and he took off at a sprinter’s pace down the foot path toward the creek.  

Red Foot’s shoulders slumped as she watched her brother’s slim build vanish into the wood. The last thing she could see before he disappeared under the dark canopy was the flame of his unruly, red curls. “Awww, forget it. You’re not worth it, Two Horns,” she said as her defeated gaze shifted downward. She balled up her tiny fists and hollered after him, “You’ll be back for dinner anyway!” 

Summer was giving way to autumn. The leaves had just started to turn magnificent shades of yellow and red. The sun took its leave earlier and earlier each evening. Nights brought that undeniable, crisp smell of impending winter. Yet somehow everything seemed colder than past years.  I feared the effects of the Blast were finally beginning to creep into our home. I’d spent 37 years on this mountain, and I could feel things were changing. There was more of a bite in the winds that blew into our home. The skies were more grey. And winter was still a long way off. 

 

 

 

 

The Longest Summer

 

                 The last class of the year was finally over. I watched as finals-weary students shuffled like polite zombies from my classroom. In truth, I felt more like the giddy grade-schooler about to flee from his bus for the last time to embrace the summer. I’d been with the university for nearly ten years. Students came and went. Yet somehow the last day of classes always made me forget that in a few short months I would be right back at it, beating my face against a desk while trying to calmly explain why a comma is indeed important when expressing yourself in written form.

                Some kids are just morons.

                While stuffing loose papers into my satchel, I noticed one student who stayed behind. She was an attractive woman. Maybe a few years older than me. Likely that her kids had grown, and she was back to complete a degree she never finished. She was a decent student. Not much for class participation. Possibly just shy.

                She waited until the room was cleared of everyone but us. She stood and walked to the door. At a complete loss for comprehension, I watched her click the lock of the door and turn to face me. Her facial expression shifted just a bit. Barely perceivable. But I noticed. And so did my cock.

                I did a nervous cough and asked, “There something I can help you with, Liz?” I pulled the satchel resting on my desk closer to my body in hopes of concealing the physical effects of her smoke blue eyes.

                “Yes and no. See, Professor… I want to thank you. For everything. All the support. The critiques. The patience.” She walked in slow motion toward my desk. Each motion deliberate and teasing. The tilt of her head. The way she tucked her auburn curls behind her ear. The way she never broke eye contact. “I want to personally…” Her voice turned thick and sweet as honey. “…and privately for your help.” 

                There was no point in playing coy or feigning ignorance. 

                I walked around the desk and closed the gap between us in three steps. My fingers were instantly in her thick hair. My thumbs rested against passion-flushed cheeks. I took two seconds to reclaim eye contact and slid my thumb across her high cheekbone. She leaned into me with her hips and half closed her eyes. I was lost.  

                I didn’t waste another second before I crushed my mouth over hers. Greedy, devouring mouths mingled breath and spit and tongues as we both fought to get our way. The air was heavy and humid as I could feel my body temperature rise with each heart beat. Heart racing. Mind dizzy. 

                She finally managed to pull back. The blue in her eyes was now completely transformed to grey. She brought her hand to my crotch and felt a cock that had never been so hard. Wordlessly she measured my reaction as she rubbed my erection through my pants. When she felt the bounce of pressure from its throb, she took to her knees. Deft and delicate fingers slipped the buckled belt. The button and zipper followed. She wiggled her hand between the elastic waist of my boxer briefs and pulled down my clothing in one motion. My cock sprang free, and the cool air caused a fury of heat as I felt my balls tighten. 

                Her mouth was soft at first. Kissing and teasing. Gentle licks from a practiced tongue. I fought off orgasm after orgasm as she tortured my prick with her mouth. She never completely devoured my cock, making sure her tongue danced back and forth across my pulsing and sensitive head. One hand was around the shaft keeping time with the rhythm of her tongue while the other applied pressure behind my ballsack. 

                The abuse was too much, and as much as I wanted to prolong this ecstasy, I knew there was no longer any holding back. “Liz,” I barely said aloud. “Liz, I’m gonna cum.”

                She moaned her approval. The vibration was the final levee.

                I put my right hand behind me on my desk to steady myself as my hips began to thrust on their own. My left hand was again buried in her tresses. My knees began to shake as the intensity of my orgasm exploded from my punished cock. Her tongue pulled and coaxed everything I had to give. The cry that escaped from my chest sounded like it came from across the room as I barely recognized my own ragged breathing. I tilted my head back and let the passion flow through me. Waves of tension left my body as the last pumps of my cock were rewarded with once again gentle licks. The release was as powerful as the tension. I begged my heart to slow, and I looked down at her. She gave my softening prick a final kiss and stood.

                We both saw that I was properly redressed. A playful smile poised on her lips as she stepped back. “Will you be teaching fall semester?”

                “I will,” I said with confidence and authority.

                “See you then,” she replied. She unlocked the door and vanished into the hallway. 

                “Next semester indeed,” I said to an empty classroom.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - White

                “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Tom, and I’m madly in love with you.”

                The message flashed across the blank White of the screen.

                Six years. Six years that flew in a heartbeat. She wished on every wishing star and four leaf clover to be noticed. And if she had to be honest with herself, she loved him for the last two of those six years. He was funny, charming, clever, and incredibly pretty. Unsure about making such an irrational confession, she chose to watch and to dream. Every day she would make her social media rounds hoping he’d posted a joke or funny story about gaming. Some days she was rewarded with the slightly crooked smile of an avatar while chatting with friends. Some days her heart would gallop when she got a Guild log-in notification.

                So here she sat facing a computer screen that made her cover her mouth with her hand. Unable to breathe and on the verge of tears, she sat dumfounded. The harsh White backdrop contrasted sharply against the black letters. There it was. Everything she ever wanted.

                And she had no idea what to do next.

                FIFTEEN SECONDS AGO…………

                This time he would hit send. He swore it. He’d seen her struggle each time she was told she was fat or ugly or dumb. He’d watched the façade of self-esteem break behind the scenes. She was plenty strong on the surface and had nearly everyone fooled. But he knew for years about the fragileness that she kept from the world. He’d seen it in heartbreaking posts she was convinced no one saw.

                It devastated him.

                He had no idea how she felt about him, but he knew she deserved better.

                She deserved to know how he felt.

                He took a deep breath and stared at the blank White typing field.

                And once again Tom started to type. “Hi. I don’t believe we’ve met………”

Back in Black

Kassie Jean never wasted time. She always knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. Tonight wasn’t going to be any different. She pulled her slick 1967 Impala into Charlie’s driveway. She wasn’t intimidated by how rural his home was. In fact, she grew up a country kid. The heavy concrete jungle of the city made her feel claustrophobic. Out here she could take in as much air as her lungs would allow. It was summertime and well into the evening. The sky had already turned pinks and purples as the sun retreated for the night. The fireflies were flirting with each other, and the frogs provided the soundtrack. She was ready for this adventure.
Kassie Jean was about ready to turn off the rumbling 327 motor when she noticed the porch light kick on and Charlie exit his house. He looked casual in his well-worn jeans and Mel-O-Cream Donuts shirt. His shirt wasn’t quite long enough to hide his catcher’s ass, and Kassie Jean took a good long look as he locked up his front door. So far, Charlie was everything he promised on Tinder.
Charlie half-jogged down the pavers leading to the driveway. He tucked his keys into his front pocket and ran his hand over his dirty blonde crew cut. The door hinge gave its usual groan as he opened the front passenger door and slid in. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This car is gorgeous.” He reached across the bench seat and extended his hand. “I’m Charlie. It’s good to finally meet you face to face.”
“Thank you, Charlie. I’m Kassie Jean. This meeting has been a long time coming. Glad our schedules finally worked out after months of messaging.”
“Yeah. Jeez. And your pics do you no justice. You’re super pretty.” He rubbed his hands over the thighs of his jeans as if to work out his first date jitters.
Kassie Jean detected a hint of nervousness to his voice as well. She knew how to fix that. “It’s been a long while since you’ve been on a date, yeah?”
“That obvious, huh?” he replied with a nervous smile and another ruffle of his hair.
“Tell ya what. How about we get all the awkward stuff out of the way? Right off the bat.”
Charlie looked at her with narrowed eyes.
“Hop in the backseat.” she said
“Excuse me?” Charlie choked out.
“Trust me. Just hop in the backseat. I promise I’ll stay right here.”
“Ohhhhhh kayyyy…..” he replied.
Charlie took a deep breath and opened the front passenger door. The characteristic metallic squawk of the door hinge made Kassie Jean smile. Once the front door was shut, he opened the back door and slid into the backseat, snapping the door shut behind him.
Kassie Jean turned around and kneeled on the bench front seat. She quickly unfastened the tiny buttons of her fitted button-down shirt. While keeping her head down, she darted her eyes upward for just a second to gauge Charlie’s reaction. His chin was nearly on his chest and his cheeks were flush. Once she shrugged out of her shirt, she popped the hooks on the back of her bra. She tossed both articles of clothing on the front seat beside her and leaned with her elbows on the back of the bench seat. Her tits were perfectly perched on the backrest.
“Now, let’s see about getting past the first date jitters.”
Charlie shifted in the seat and slouched just a bit. There was plenty of room in the back of the ‘67, and his knees didn’t even touch the front seat. He unconsciously rubbed the heel of his hand against the button fly of his jeans. Kassie Jean could tell her inhibition caused a reaction.
“Don’t worry about me. Close your eyes if it makes you more comfortable,” she purred.
Charlie’s eyes rolled a bit as his lids fluttered closed. He let a heavy breath escape his lungs and continued to rub his cock through his jeans. He was incredibly hard within seconds. Kassie Jean’s voice was like honey as she coached him.
“I bet that cock wants out. How about you undo those buttons?”
Charlie didn’t waste any time. The buttons were undone with one pull, and his cock stiffened harder once the night air touched it. He wrapped his hand slowly and deliberately over the head and continued the stroke downward.
“Now, doesn’t that feel better? Show me how you stroke that pretty cock.”
Charlie did exactly what was asked of him. He picked up the pace a bit, making sure his middle finger ran over the divot of his head. The fire it sent through his body was near unbearable.
“That’s a good boy. Faster, Charlie.”
His breathing was ragged. His face was flush. His hand tugged harder and faster. Within minutes he knew he would cum.
Kassie Jean read all the signs perfectly.
“So pretty. Cum for me Charlie.”
It was all the encouragement he needed. Charlie’s hips thrust forward as his hand came downward. The crippled cry that escaped his chest emphasized the intensity of his orgasm. The cum drenched his twitching cock and covered his hand. Three more hard thrusts and the last was spent. He slowed his breathing and his stroke and eventually opened his orgasm-drunk eyes.
Kassie Jean hadn’t moved. Her smile was unstoppable. The entire car smelled like sex.
“How’s those nerves?” she teased.
“Gone,” Charlie replied with a sideways smile.
“Good,” she said.
“Give me five minutes to change. I need a different shirt,” he laughed.
“Five minutes. Then I’ll meet you for the first time again.”
Charlie smiled. She was definitely going to be an adventure.

The Coming Winter

***Author's note: The following is an original piece submitted for Anna Meade's Midsummer Night's Dream Writing Contest. Be sure to click the link and see what other fantastic stories await!***

                I awoke with a kiss. Strange. I didn’t even remember falling asleep.

                And yet there she was. Gigging like a bubbling brook.

                The fayr stood a handful of steps away from me. Her oversized hands covered much of her face, leaving just the twinkling blue of her eyes exposed. Her rich blonde curls bounced as she laughed. The wrap dress was torn and dirty, but her skin looked like honeyed cream.

                I shook my head to clear the daydreams away. My mane tossed about as I stretched my wings and put hoof to ground. Since I was only a yearling Pegasus, we stood nearly eye to eye, she and me.

                “I found you!” She squealed. “Let’s play! Follow me!” She took off skipping down a foot path that trailed to the lake. The scent of the blue bonnets and lavenders begged me to follow her.

                I shook my tail and set off bounding behind her, determined to return the tag she’d placed on me. We tagged back and forth until we reached the lake. Playing made me thirsty, and the water was clear and inviting. I drank deeply until I felt the violent pain of something piercing my lung and driving into my heart. My last vision was of the peaceful lake, and my ears rung with her childish laughter.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                “You promised me the wings, Atcheton.”

                “That I did, wicked fayr,” the troll said with disdain. He hated making bargains with lesser beings. But the summer had been a hot one, and his crops burned in the unrelenting sun. Winter would be hard if food couldn’t be secured. “Next time bring me a bigger one. The yearling are tender, but there’s barely enough meat for two days.”

                The Fayr smiled innocently and gathered her treasure, eager to attach them to her dirty dress. “That will cost you more than just some wings, Troll.”



 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Red

 

 

 

 

 

            Every day the Clever Boy, with his tiny mechanical feet, shuffled down the same cobblestone path. And every day the Clever Boy saw the same sights and turned the same turns and whistled the same song. And the Clever Boy was happy.

            Until one day something was different.

            The Clever Boy, whistling the same song, shuffling his tiny mechanical feet suddenly stopped. He saw a box. This was new. He approached it with caution. He saw an ordinary brown packing box full of gears and pieces. Next to this box was a sign: I CAN’T FIGURE HER OUT. MUST BE BROKEN - FREE.

            The Clever Boy turned his square head this way and that wondering why in the world anyone would discard such beautiful, shiny pieces. He gathered the box into his jointed copper arms and returned to shuffling his tiny mechanical feet, turning the same turns, and whistling the same song until he reached his home.

            Once the Clever Boy was home, he began to unpack the many shiny pieces. He laid them out gently and lovingly. It seemed as if everything was in order, so he decided he would reassemble the Broken Girl.

            Every day after his walk the Clever Boy would work on his Girl. The work was slow, but he was patient. And after a time, the Broken Girl no longer looked broken. However, it seemed as if a piece was missing after all. Luckily, the Clever Boy knew exactly what to do.

            He pinched the corner of his chest plate and pulled it open, exposing all the whirring cogs and gears. He reached in his chest and pulled out his Red metallic heart. He knew it would only hurt for a second, so he took a big mechanical breath and broke off a piece of it. He quickly put his heart back and closed the latch. He drove his tiny mechanical hand into the Broken Girl’s chest. He pulled back his hand and clutched it close to his chest. Then waited.

            A sputter.

            A clunk.

            A wheeze.

            And suddenly she wasn’t so broken anymore.

            So every day the Clever Boy, with his tiny mechanical feet, shuffled down the same cobblestone path. And every day the Clever Boy saw the same sights and turned the same turns and whistled the same song. And the Clever Boy was very, very happy because his Girl was holding his tiny mechanical hand.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Black

 

 

         I’m not sure how long I’d been there. Ten minutes? Thirty? It seemed like an eternity passed since The Maestro had closed the door. My elbows and wrists were bound in front of me. I’d been given instruction to remain on my knees with my elbows propped on the side table. I’m sure at a casual glance I looked like I was praying. And maybe I was just a bit.

            When I heard the click of the door, my heart raced. I remained perfectly still. Looking towards the door would have been wasteful since I was blindfolded.

            Everything was perfectly Black.

            “You look perfect, girl. Well done. Your instructions are this: You may only answer Me with the word ‘no’. Is this understood?”   

            “No,” I replied without hesitation.

            I could hear the smile in His voice. “Very good, clever little girl.” The richness of his voice touched deep in my chest. The compliment made my heart grow.

            I listened as His feet crossed the room. I heard the hiss from a can of some carbonated beverage. “Would you like a drink?” The Maestro asked.

            The thought of the cool liquid was enticing. “No,” I countered.

            “Is there anyone else you’d rather have here?”

            “No.” It was the truest answer I’d given since He opened the door.

            I could hear Him as He crossed the room to reach me. He stood behind me and drew a line down my spine with the handle of the crop. Despite being surrounded by the Black, I could tell just how close He was to me. His presence always lit me like a bonfire. Just knowing He was close to me was enough to set every part of my body tingling.

            He leaned in behind me and breathed into my ear, “Do you love me?”

            I panicked. “No.” It was a lie. And He knew it.

            CRACK.

            It happened so quickly. The fire spread across my backside, and I flinched from the unexpected punishment. I clenched my teeth and steadied my breath.

            “Do you love me?” He repeated.

            “No,” I replied.

            CRACK

            This time the whimper was out before I could catch it. The Black had somehow gotten darker. I did not move from my knees or take my elbows from the side table.

            “Think on this, girl. I will ask again: do you love me?”

            I hesitated, unsure of what I had done wrong. “No.”

            CRACK CRACK

            Both cheeks were on fire as I felt the lick from each of His strikes. I could feel the panic rising in my chest as I struggled to understand my failure. Despite closed eyes and a heavy mask, I could feel the tears press their way from the corners of my eyes and make their way down my cheeks.

            “Do you love me?” He pressed.

            My voice was a mixture of a choke and whisper. “Yes.” I confessed. My tears were burning my cheeks as surely as the crop burned my backside.

            “Louder.”

            I took a deep breath. “Yes.”

            He plunged His hand deep into my hair and pulled downward, turning my face toward the sky. “Again.”

            “YES.” I said, the honesty of the statement crushing me and filling me at the same time.

            He pulled the blindfold from my eyes. What was pitch before was replaced with glaring light. I blinked several times while my eyes tried to adjust to the sudden shift. “Here is your lesson, girl. Your honesty means more to me than your obedience. You are to never lie about your feelings.”

            He released my wrists and elbows from their bindings and allowed me to rest on my heels. “Does a girl understand why this is important?” He asked as He sat on the edge of the bed.

            “I understand Maestro,” I answered as I turned to place my head in his lap.

            “That’s my good doll,” He soothed while toying with my hair. “Now when you are collected, you shall receive your reward.”

            And my soul smiled.

 

The Broken Girl and The Clever Boy - Blue

            She heard it long before she ever saw it. Jack, she whispered.

            She ran her fingers through her mussed hair in order to tame it a bit. When she turned around on her best friend’s front porch, she spied the 1968 Camaro rumbling down the street. Even in the yellow street lights, she could make out the rich, electric blue of the paint job. As many times as she had seen it, she never got over how breathtakingly beautiful that car was. As Jack put the car in park, he gave the gas pedal a good tap. The rumble of that motor matched the feeling in her gut. Powerful. Exciting.

            She took a step off the porch and headed toward the car. “Jaaaaa-aaaack!” she yelled in a sing-song voice. “What are you doing here?”

            The passenger side window was already rolled down. Jack leaned across the car and replied, “Heidi said you might need a ride home. How ya feeling, Rhi?”

            Rhiannon casually tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned forward, resting her forearms on the door. “I’m just fine. Two or three glasses of wine aren’t enough to do me in,” she teased.

            “But what about the two or three mixed drinks after the two or three glasses of wine?”

            “Fine. Busted. I suppose I’ll have to thank Heidi tomorrow.” She waved to her friend and climbed into The Blue. The seats were soft and conditioned, just like she knew they would be. Jack always kept The Blue immaculate. “So Heidi called you to be my White Knight come to the rescue?” she said. The booze had allowed just a hint of southern drawl to come through in her voice.

            “Something like that,” Jack offered in response. He did a quick glance at his passenger. It was the height of summer, so Rhiannon had on a soft and frilly sundress. The gauzy material was hiked up just a bit more than it would normally fall, and he didn’t fail to notice how smooth her thigh was. Keeping his hands occupied, he shifted the car into drive and headed down the street.

            Rhiannon closed her eyes and rested her head on the seat. She turned her head to the left and opened her eyes. “You’re pretty, you know that?” she teased.

            “I’ve been told once or twice,” he replied with a laugh in his voice.

            “I’ve thought about you for a while now, Jack.” Rhiannon drew her fingers across the bench seat and onto Jack’s leg. “Quite a while now,” she repeated.

            “What about your husband? What would he think about this?”

            “Oh, that boy is at home and asleep already. Probably sacked out on the couch watching action movies.” Her hand continued to draw lines over Jack’s thigh. “But you…You’re the one come to take me home.”

            Jack felt an uneasy tension in his groin as the combination of Rhiannon’s drawl and light touch made it difficult to concentrate. “Well, he’s certainly missing out,” he said, wishing the five minute drive would be over.

            “You don’t have to take me home straight away, do you?” Rhiannon said with a small pout.

            “I think it best, Rhi. I’m meant to see you home safely.”

            Rhiannon gave his crotch a good rub. “Then until you drop me off at my door, this is what you get. Between you and the car, you get a girl all worked up just to shut her down. I can’t be the only left wanting.”

            Jack clenched his teeth and turned the corner. “I believe this is your house, m’lady,” he said, resting the transmission in park.

            “Fine. You’ll be back. Miss me while I’m gone,” she teased as she climbed out of The Blue. She strolled up the front walk and didn’t even bother to look back.

            Jack laughed and shook his head. “Goddammit woman. You’ll be the death of me yet.” He opened the garage door and pulled into the drive, eager to tuck his wife into bed.