Mid-Week Blues-Buster Week 09

Shalom, everyone…

Welcome to the Mid-Week Blues-Buster Flash Fiction Challenge, Week 09.

This is a flash fiction challenge.  The prompt is a song.  You are not required to write about or even mention the song.  It’s there only to get the ideas moving around in your brain pan.  If you want to write about the song (or the video- it’s all good here) go for it but don’t feel like you have to.

The rules;

500 words, but it’s a slushy 500, meaning you can go up to 700 or as low as 300.

Post your entry right in the comments section of this post.

MAKE SURE TO PUT YOUR TWITTER HANDLE NEXT TO YOUR WORD COUNT AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR POST

The challenge starts whenever I post this on Tuesday and ends at 11:59PM Pacific Time on Thursday.  You read that right.  Pacific Time.

This week’s prompt comes to us courtesy of Treat Her Right.

Image

The tune is, “I Think She Likes Me”.  Here’s the link; http://youtu.be/k8f8HciNGwM

This week’s Jude is our favorite Wolf Lady… Janelle Jensen!!!

Okey then… That’s it for me… get out there and write, write, write!  The challenge is open from right now ’til 11:59 PM Pacific Time on Thursday April 18…

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Posted on April 16, 2013, in Uncategorized. Bookmark the permalink. 8 Comments.

  1. Not sure if this is entirely appropriate but it stems from a chance conversation about sheep shearers – The rest I will leave to your imagination.

    Through The Keyhole

    The only problem with living in work accommodation is that you are always on top of one another and the rooms are small and too close together.

    Do you know what I mean? No privacy. Every sound, arguing and lovemaking carrying through the paper thin walls.

    Well I thought it was a problem, until this morning that is.

    The other guy from my section and I had eaten breakfast together and he had wandered off to check the post and fetch the paper.

    Which left me walking back from the communal kitchen alone and I suddenly hear a buzzing coming from the room which Kitty Armstrong occupies.

    Ah Kitty. Beautiful she is. The biggest tits you have ever seen and legs so long you would need a ladder to get to her snatch. If you were invited to of course. Which I haven’t been. But one day, oh yes one day. Because I know she likes me. Who wouldn’t?

    Anyway, back to the buzzing. I had a quick shifty up and down the corridor and there was no one in either direction so I crouched down to check things out through the keyhole and there she was, led back on the bed with those legs in the air and wearing killer heels.

    I was mesmerised by the vision, even more so because it was in silhouette, the light in the room not being up to much because the curtains were partly drawn.

    The buzzing continued and Kitty was clearly moving her hand slowly up and down. I can tell you that I nearly gave myself a physical injury bending over like that.

    It was worth it of course, but to be honest with you, I’m still not sure if she was using a dildo or shaving her legs.

    But then again, would she keep her shoes on to de-fuzz?

    310 word
    @vixenfiction

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  2. The Three Musketeers, that’s what they called us. Steve, Greg and I went always went to lunch at the mall. I always picked up a cheeseburger, side salad and large Coke from McDonalds. Steve always brought his lunch with him, and Greg picked a different fast food place every day.

    On that Monday, we talked about the weekend. I took a chug from my Coke and Steve asked, “You go out with Lisa again?”

    “Yeah. She had a movie she wanted to watch. Then she wanted something to eat.”

    “You guys go out ever weekend, don’t you?” Greg just grinned as he asked that. “And during the week too, right?”

    I shrugged, “Yeah.”

    They laughed, but I didn’t know why. Steve asked another question, “How long have you known her?”

    “We met in our freshman year.”

    “Dude,” Greg was still grinning, “That’s like, eight years now!”

    “We’re friends.”

    Steve looked at Greg, and winked as he said, “They’re friends.”

    Steve started laughing too, “She just bought a townhouse, didn’t she?”

    I nodded.

    It was Greg’s turn, “And she’s been shopping for house stuff, like a washer and dryer, a fridge, and furniture?”

    I nodded again.

    Then it was Steve’s turn, “And she takes you with her when she goes to shop for that stuff?”

    I nodded again. My cheeseburger was almost finished. I took another chug of my Coke. “Yeah. The sales people are so funny. They always ask me if they can help me. I just point at her and tell them she’s the one shopping. They just nod their heads, smile, and then go help her.”

    I didn’t know why the two of them were laughing. Greg continued, “She make you try on the sofa and the bed?”

    “Try on?”

    “Yeah, try on. Like you had to sit on the sofa, maybe even lie down on it? Stretch out on the bed? That kind of stuff?”

    I nodded, stuffing a fork full of salad into my mouth, “Yeah. But I don’t know why. It’s her stuff.”

    I thought the two of them were going to die of laughter. “And she won’t buy anything unless you like it too?” Steve was hinting at something, but I didn’t know what.

    “Yeah. Strange thing, ain’t it? I don’t know why she does that.”

    Greg poked Steve in the ribs, “She ask you to spend the night yet?”

    I didn’t say anything, I just smiled.

    “Oh, she did, didn’t she!” Steve’s grin looked really silly. “Like she wants you there every night?”

    I had to think about that one a moment. “Yeah. I noticed that.” By that point the two of them were grinning, and looking silly. “She seems to ask me over to her house ever day.”

    Steve laughed so hard he couldn’t talk, so Greg talked next, “And she wants to cuddle all the time? And maybe more than cuddle?”

    I thought hard for a bit, “What are you guys asking?”

    “Oh, nothing!” They both held their hands up at the same time, feigning innocence, “Nothing at all!”

    Greg looked at Steve, “I think she likes him, that’s what I think.”

    Steve looked at Greg, “Yep. I think she likes him, I really do.”

    Greg winked at Steve, “Do you think he knows?”

    “Clueless!”

    “Of course she likes me. We’re friends!”

    Greg shook his head, “I don’t know, man. I don’t know.”

    Steve shook his head too, “Yeah, she likes you. If you know what I’m saying.”

    “What are you saying?”

    They both just grinned, “We think she likes you. That’s what we think.”

    Greg shook his head, “He’ll be the last one to figure it out again, won’t he?”

    “Yep. He will.”

    Took me eight days. I thought about it, and thought about it. And I think she likes me. That’s what I think. I mean. I think she really likes me. You know.

    What do I do now?

    681 Words
    @LurchMunster

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  3. Strange Eternities

    The fact I’d gotten here after smoking some crazy shit from a strange asian dude and being sucked black-hole-style into a door located in my left eyeball should have been a sign. But hell, I thought it was part of the trip. Seriously, inter-dimensional time portal bars just doesn’t exist in the real world, how could I have known?

    Except they do. I’ve been there.

    The bartender was a tall black man with dreads that were actually tentacles he could control like arms. Dude, you have not lived until you’ve seen a tentacle-headed bartender serving drinks so fast you can barely see them mixing. No one waited for a refill at the Strange Cafe.

    There were tables on the ceiling, green fire crackling in every corner, a band that played their own bodies… seriously, the drummer sat on stage with hands that were cymbals and knee caps grown into bongo’s being bonged by ‘hands’ that grew out of his man-boobs. The bass player stretched his toe into an instrument seven feet tall and played it using his johnson. Best damn music I’ve ever heard. I couldn’t stop dancing.

    No. Seriously. I couldn’t stop. I danced until I had blisters on my heels, my legs were in agony and my knees screamed pain. I felt like I’d been stretched and crushed in one of those medieval torture devices, my cheeks sewn into a richter mortis smile. A nice lady covered in iridescent blue scaling took pity on me and intervened. She started to get amorous but when a questing trunk emerged from her belly button and began fiddling around my back door I suddenly remembered Lucy and begged off because I was a married man.

    When I finally stumbled out the front door the sun was high in the sky and I was ready to sleep for a month and tell Lucy about the crazy trip I had. But our campsite was nowhere to be found and nothing looked right. We’d been camping here for years, I knew this area like the back of my hand, but it was like every mole, follicle and line had been rearranged. A strangers hand.

    The trees were taller than I remembered. The air smelled deliciously clean. I stumbled to the dirt road that led to the campsite but there was no road. I walked to the overlook where we’d spend our evenings watching the sun set and stared in slack jawed amazement. None of the stuff that should have been there was there.

    I-70 should have been visible far to the east, but wasn’t. Instead of interstate there was an uninterrupted expanse of forest. In fact, was all I could see, forest. Nothing but trees in every direction. There were never this many trees before. The only place on the entire planet forested like this was the Amazon for fucks sake. But there it was stretching before me, undeniable in its vast solidity.

    I stumbled back to toward the bar thinking this was an elaborate hoax put on by my friends. They’d never let me live this one down. My foot caught on something and I fell to the ground banging my shin. I looked down and saw a signpost. Old and barely legible. I cleared away the forest debris and felt shock sink to my bones.

    ‘Stu Jackson rests somewhere in these woods, lost July 2013. Well lived, well loved, well missed. ~2043’

    July 2013 was the camping trip they were on right now. He continued to the bar, fuming at his friends, they had taken this too far. Ha ha, funny, assholes.

    He stumbled up the steps of the cafe and was stopped by a large sign he’d not seen when he came here last night.

    ‘Be ye warned, time does not travel the same in all places. One minute at Strange Cafe and a decade may pass at home. Please check the time table for your zone in advance! Strange is not responsible for lost decades or eternities! Enter at your own risk.’

    Fuck.

    682 words
    @ScrivK

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  4. DECISIONS

    I stepped into the dark, sound-soaked club and inhaled deep of liquor and body heat. The heady sub bass drew me further into the crowd. I squeezed through bodies, enjoying the thick fervidity of the room and eyed black curtains that covered each wall from ceiling to floor.

    I came for the rawness of the place, to unwind and maybe get wound somewhere no one knew me or my norm. I didn’t expect to enjoy it, merely experience it. But my hips rocked to rhythmic blasts and I tipped my chin, allowing the music to swell around me, through me, transform me into a ribbon of passion and color.

    I smelled him before I saw him. Drake’s coolwater scent demanded my attention. His sudden presence had me backtracking. Drake wound a hand in my hair and pressed me against the wall. A thrill welled in my chest and settled between my thighs.

    “Cassia.”

    His heated whisper caused dread and arousal to make lazy laps inside my stomach. I turned away but he steered my chin back. Eye contact with Drake proved dangerous. Liquid fire surged my cheeks; my arms begged to close around his body. I didn’t want him. I needed him.

    “Come back to me.”

    A whimper escaped my lips when he pressed his excitement against my thigh. My body screamed for him. “No.” I gripped the curtain behind me to busy my disloyal hands. “We’re all wrong for each other.”

    Drake held my eyes with his own while his palm pressed my thigh and ribcage then snaked between my breasts to brush my collarbone. I closed my eyes while his fingers played under my ear then circled my waist.

    “Open your eyes, Cassia,” he said. And I knew why.

    He wanted to see my satisfaction as he ran his hand down the back of my jeans. His fingers gripped my ass, slamming my hips against his. He explored even lower and my knees threatened to buckle.

    “This doesn’t feel wrong,” he said, steadying me.

    His kiss gridlocked my protest. The simultaneous thrusts of his fingers and tongue had my breath coming shallow and fast. A raspy groan slipped past my lips, sparking his fervor. And mine. His silky strokes created color bursts in my periphery.

    I half whispered, half gasped, “Drake—”

    He ended the kiss but his fingers continued their delving. “Tell me, baby.”

    “I…”

    His tongue ran up my neck and feathered my earlobe. “My God, you’re wet. Do you want me?”

    Hell yes, here. Now.

    “No.” I shook my head, determined. I wanted to be free, not tied down. I wanted—

    Drake’s smile was slow and beautiful. He withdrew his fingers and touched the corner of my mouth. A fire, intense and wild, spread through my limbs. I wrapped greedy lips around his fingers and sucked them clean, watching as sweet agony shadowed his face.

    “Jesus, Cassia.”

    It was my turn.

    I raked my nails against denim so tight it threatened to split then massaged his scalp, tousling dark hair. I caught his gaze and held it while I dragged my tongue across his bottom lip, slow and wet. I leaned closer and whispered, “Goodnight, Drake.”

    He loosened his grip and I stepped around him. On my way to the door, I turned. He stood where I left him, watching me with smoke-filled eyes. I smiled. He didn’t.

    I parked my Jeep in the front yard instead of the garage and raced up the steps. I unlocked the door and closed it behind me, listening. There it was. Drake’s tires crunching gravel. I smiled, excited. It would be a long night.

    @Valeriebrbr 607 words

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  5. PLAYING THE POINT

    Kittredge sits at the bar, a trail of bruises blossoming on the canvas of his jaw. He eyes the bartender and raises his glass. “This one ought to be on the house considering how you hung me out to dry just now, Mags.”

    She shakes her head. “No way, bud. That one is on you.”

    He soothes his busted knuckles with a piece of ice. “How do you figure? A pretty girl sits next to me, chats me up and I get cold cocked for buying her a drink. How was I in the wrong?”

    “I ain’t your mama, Kitt, but I’m gonna give you some advice. Join a league down at the ball field or bowling alley. Do something. Anything other than holding court on this stool night after night.”

    He tips his empty glass and rolls it down the bar so that it dribbles the remains of his whiskey across the glossy mahogany. “What do you want from me, Mags? Besides my coworkers, you’re the only person I know in this crummy town.”

    Grabbing a towel and wiping down the counter, she says, “Trust and believe that if I’d known what a pain the rear you were, I’d never had rented the upstairs studio to you.”

    “Lady, you’re not always so peachy yourself,” he says, hopping off the stool, tossing a wad of bills on the counter and heading for the door.

    Before he gets there, a half dozen guys in blue jerseys come in, and a stocky guy with spiky hair claps him on the arm. “You coming to the game with us, Kitt?”

    He shrugs. “What game?”

    The big guys turns to Maggie. “Thought you got him a ticket, sis.”

    She throws the wet towel at him. “Way to sell me out, Colton.”

    Kitt looks at her, eyebrows hitched, grin barely concealed.

    She avoids his gaze. “Well, I was going to invite you but then you fell for the bimbo’s song and dance, and I figured you weren’t the guy for me after all.”

    Colton bursts into laughter. “You can’t hold that against him, Mags!! Every one of us has fallen for that sweet little – – ”

    One of the blue jerseys interrupts and says, “That’s how I got this scar on my cheek. And why Parker’s wife won’t let him come out with us anymore.”

    Another of the jerseys says, “And why I tell my wife it’s bowling league night instead of admitting we’re playing pool down here at Mag’s.”

    Kitt grins. “She played all of you?”

    Colton nods. “Got a couple of these chuckleheads twice. Comes on so sweet and all, when really it’s just some kind of sick game with her old man.”

    Kitt leans across the bar and catches her sleeve. “Mags, give me a break. Chalk it up to naïveté or machismo or whatever gets you through the night. But please, don’t shut me down.”

    She snorts. “I can’t shut down something that never started.”

    “Who’s oblivious now? I moved here two months ago and yet, as you so kindly pointed out, I’ve spent every night down here at your restaurant, sitting at your bar, and talking to you. But you’re always so busy scheduling my free time and shuffling single ladies to the stool beside me, that – – ”

    Colton clears his throat loader than necessary. “Can you two discuss your feelings and favorite nail polish later? We got less than an hour to get to the stadium.”

    Maggie reaches into her back pocket, pulls out two tickets, and hands one to Kitt. “This don’t mean nothing more than that I know you’re a hockey fan and I had a spare ticket, okay?”

    “Sure, just like this don’t mean anything more than my appreciation for said ticket,” he says, pulling her against the counter, sliding over the top and angling his mouth to meet hers.

    – – – – –

    (649 Words) / @bullishink

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