Friday Fictioneers for February 4th, 2022

The lovelies, Rochelle and Na’ama, teamed up to tempt my darker, speculative, micro-fiction side. It’s 100 words. Fewer is fine, but more is too many. My story follows Na’ama’s enticing photo. Click on it to bat fly over to Rochelle’s place for rest of the tantalizing story.

Click on the PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda to see what Rochelle is up to today.


Genre: Erotic Spec-Fic
Title: Leave the Light On
Word Count: 100


Drunk at midnight. The doorbell. Instant love.

She said, “I saw your light. Would you like to donate blood? Invite me in. Vodka Collins, please.”

“Yes. Come in. I’ll get your drink.”

Her phone. “Party at David’s. Sunrise. I’m getting bloody marys now. Maybe a sperm bank donation too. Cute guy, but older.”

I handed her the Collins. “I thought y’all bit us on the neck.”

“Too messy. We’re high tech now. Like Red Cross. Instant disease tests and all. Join our frequent donor, blood-bag club.”

“Really? No more biting?”

“Nope. But I give a hell of a hickey.”


Look both ways for erotic vampires.
Mind the gaps and floss daily.


Click on your “Interview With The Vampire” soul mate to sky on over to the squares and read more exciting stories. It’s fun. Trust me.

dVerse Quadrille #132 (stream)

A forty-four word poem (plus title) written for dverse prompt of stream.

Pluvial Passion

Let me feel your kiss.
May your wet tongue lick.
Run into my eyes, down my face,
under my clothes,
over my body.

My passion, you pour copious streams
of love upon me.

Touch me where you can.

Where are you, my sweet Rain?


Look both ways for summer showers.
Mind the gaps between the drops.

Poetry: Sammi’s Weekender #188 (languid)

Click to go to Sammi’s blog


Oi, Nineteen: Lust Laughs at Love

Normally chic, now
nearly naked, she lounged in his lap
slovenly taking in
the stunning sunset,

Lamenting his languid,
lackadaisical lovemaking,
leaving his heart listlessly
lost to his long love song.

Feeling inferior
yet yearning to reggae
he cajoled and coaxed playful
music to prove she danced
not too fast for him.

Their love withstood the storm.

Look both ways in love and lust.
Mind the gaps as perfection is myth.

Be lovingly entertained.

Friday Fictioneers 7/24/2020

Many thanks to Rochelle @ Rochelle Wisoff-Fields-Addicted to Purple for orchestrating Friday Fictioneers. The challenge is to write a story based upon a photo prompt (today she gets extra credit for providing the photo, as well). With fewer than 101 words we are challenged to contrive a beginning, middle, and an end.

Credit @ Rochelle Wisoff-Fields


Title: Pleasure Palettes
Genre: Romance (autobiographical) Fiction
Word count: 99

I was at my easel trying for a loose, semiabstract, colorful urban cityscape.
Conjetti walked in.
“Did I hear you talking to someone?”
“It was your boyfriend. He’ll call back later.”
She cleared her throat.
“Okay. It was Julie. We discussed art. She said watercolor is a metaphor for letting go.”
“And you said?”

“I told her it was like herding wet, angry cats of different colors that don’t mix well.”

She reached around and grabbed me, biting my neck.
“Follow me,” she said with a sultry gaze.
I smiled, “At your service m’lady.”
“You’d better be.”
“Yes, Ma’am!”


Look both ways as
“Life imitates art far more than art imitates Life” (Oscar Wilde).
Mind the gaps of romantic truth.

Click blue frogs for link to the party @ inlinkz