It seems you liked it quick and dirty as much as I did the last time. So, I bring you two more quickies. Enjoy.
There’s only one thing that can cure the constant distraction of this throbbing – this aching. I need it in gelcap. – The Cure. (115 characters)
Panting. Glistening. Drenched. Wasted. Again. – Workout (45 characters)
Shorter than a short story; flashier than flash fiction, we now have tweet fiction – stories in 140 characters or less.
I stumbled across tweetthemeat and promptly sent them a few micro-brief story submissions.
Following are a couple that I saved to publish here – just for you. Let’s see if I can get a G-rating by calling them Coffee and a Bath.
Craving. She needed to feel the warmth flow over her tongue as that bitter, acidic splash hit the back of her throat. She swallowed. (132 characters)
Hot. Steaming. Wet. She exhaled a soft needy moan as her body slipped downward. Yes. Yes. This is exactly what she needed. (122 Characters)
This is just a quick note to say, “Thank You.”
I can’t begin to tell you how much you’ve impacted my life for the better and I would be remiss if I didn’t say as much, especially, today. So often, we never know how we’ve touched other people in profound and meaningful ways with our actions and I didn’t want to miss this chance to let you know that you did.
No, we’ve never met face to face, you and I. In fact, I’m fairly certain that you don’t even know that I exist, yet I think of you often and it makes me smile. I sometimes wonder if you know how wonderfully everything turned out.
I don’t know what you did precisely to cause the chain of events that lead to my happiness. Still, I do know one thing that you did for which I will be forever grateful. All those years ago, you gave birth to him – your son – and that was enough.
“Hello you. How was your trip?” he asked her as she entered.
“Fun. Marvelous. Interesting. It was everything you said it would be,” she beamed as she dashed in. “Still, it’s good to be back,” she added and wrapped herself around him.
He chuckled as he drew her close, “It’s good to have you back.”
“Ummmhmm,” she purred as she wallowed in his loving embrace. “Next time we should go together.”
“We’ll have to plan that. So, tell me all about it. Did you get to do everything we talked about?”
“Yup. I sure did,” she told him excitedly. “Some things more than once!”
“Food?” he asked.
“Yum!” she exclaimed.
“Dancing?” he queried.
“Oh, I danced until I dropped from exhaustion,” she told him, giggling.
“Sex?”
She flushed. “Well, sure. There was plenty of opportunity for that,” she laughed. “It would have been better with you there, though.”
He flexed and squeezed her.
She sighed a bit, “It’s…it’s…just so hard to get close to anyone, you know?”
“I know. It’s such a short time. It seems like you just get there and get the hang of things and it’s time to come home.”
“There is that, but…,” she paused as she pressed into him, simply luxuriating in the feel of him.
“But? He asked as he held and stroked her.
She drew back a moment as she collected her thoughts, “I just don’t see how anyone can ever get close to anyone else, there. Things get in the way.”
“Things,” he repeated as he considered what she was saying. “Ah,” he said as he pulled her back to him, “You mean the bodies.”
She felt herself happily, blissfully melting into him, “Exactly. You can’t do this with bodies. They just get in the way.”
It’s March and that means we are celebrating our Irish heritage and Women’s History. Yes, it is a fine month to get in touch with and honor our past.
Irrespective of our actual lineage, on or about March 17th we all become Irish. We deck ourselves out in green, scarf down corned beef, potatoes and cabbage and wash it down with gallons of beer all in a solemn gastric ritual of remembrance for the fellow who kicked some serious snake ass. Of course, no snakes were ever native to Ireland, but who needs facts when we are talking about an opportunity to drink ourselves into a stupor, wear shamrocks and say brilliant things like, “Erin go Bragh or Erin go Braless?”
Likewise, we encourage even the ovary-challenged among us to join in the Women’s history celebrations. Yes, we organize lovely affairs where we consume rubbery chicken and wilted salads drizzled with low-fat dressing as we recite “Phenomenal Woman.” All done in celebrate our vaginae.
But, March has yet another holiday – Steak and a Blow Job Day. Originally conceived back in 2002 as the Men’s equivalent to Valentine’s Day, it is celebrated one month later on March 14th.
I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m all about efficiency. I propose we merge these celebrations into a single event. I offer you, “Happy St. Patrick’s Steak and a Blow Job, Women’s History Day!
We can dress in green and give that special guy a blow job and a steak as he happily hums Irish lullabies or belts out a rousing rendition of “I am Woman.” Bust out the kegs and men will be standing in line to sing the praises of Susan B. Anthony and Gloria Steinem right along side of St. Patrick.
In honor of joining Steak and a Blow Job Day with Women’s History Month and St. Patrick’s Day, I leave you with this thought from Helen Gurley Brown with my own addendum: “Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere…and smart girls swallow. Erin go Bragh!”