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