Inta Girls

It had been a long day of shopping – unsuccessful shopping. They’d been to nearly every store and boutique in the area and even spent a few unproductive hours at the mall, yet neither of them found a single thing to wear.

This is the wrong color. That one is too tight. Oh, puhleeze, that is sooo out of style. Do you seriously expect me to go out in public in this?” Nothing quite satisfied or suited either of them.

Tired and disheartened, they agreed that it was time to pop into the local watering hole for drinks and diversion.

The bell over the entry tinkled, announcing their arrival as they pushed through the large oak and stained glass door. A few bar flies took notice and glanced up for a moment before returning to their drinks and conversations. Pausing at the doorway they surveyed the room. Yes, they decided. This would do just fine.

The pair drifted through the pre-dinner time crowd casually taking in the eye candy that gathered in intimate little groups of twos, threes and fours around the tall highboy tables. Long legged girls in short skirts or too tight jeans leaned nonchalantly on the table tops that supported their drinks, elbows and sometimes their ample chests, much to the keen interest of admirers who worked hard to appear disinterested.

Over there in the corner, “ one nudged the other. “That’s a handsome couple. Maybe they’d be up for a little fun.”

Nah. Ya know I’m not inta guys. Whoah, hey, check out the two hotties at three o’clock. Let’s loosen ‘em up a bit with a little…um…lubrication.”

Are you thinking ‘panty removers’?”

They snickered conspiratorially.

Peach Bellinis it is, then. I’ll take care of ordering the drinks. You find us a spot nearby.

The bartender dutifully mixed up two double Peach Bellini’s as instructed then called over a  waiter. Placing the over sized drinks on the tray, the bartender leaned in and pointed, “See the little blonde and busty brunette right over there? These are for them compliments of a couple of admirers who are…what was it?” he paused. “Oh yeah…tell ‘em the drinks are from admirers who are really inta you girls.”

The waiter looked at the bartender quizzically for a moment then half nodded, “Got it.”

Surprised and delighted, the girls giggled excitedly as the drinks and the message were delivered. Curious, they scanned the room then looked up to the waiter asking in unison “Who sent these?”

“Dunno,” he replied with a shrug then added as walked away, “Enjoy your drinks, ladies.”

Clinking their glasses together, the girls giggled again then downed the sugary beverages as if they were drinking sodas.

Their greatly amused benefactors hovered nearby allowing enough time for the drinks to work their magic. Soon satisfied that the girls were indeed pliable, they sidled up to the girls’ table and made their move.

Good evening, cuties. I see you’ve been enjoying the drinks we sent you.”

The now very tipsy blonde blinked with confusion as she looked each way then back to the buxom brunette who was draining the last of her drink from the over sized glass, “Huh?” she slurred. “Whatdidju say…wait…how didju do that?”

“Hmm?” her friend gurgled as she swallowed, “How did I do what?”

She struggled to focus her vision, “How didju?” She shook her head and began again, speaking each word deliberately, “How. did. you. jusss talk while drinking? Omagod, that wassss so cool!”

The brunette stared blankly as she listened to her girlfriend babble then startled suddenly at the warm, velvet voice in her ear, “You don’t mind if we join you, do you?”

“Join…?” she repeated absently as she looked around for the source of the voice.  Stunned, she looked back at her friend.

The girls grew quiet as the world swayed and blurred around them. They stared in awe as the amber bar light began to drip down in long sinewy strands that stretched from the ceiling then puddled on top of the bar patrons gradually covering them and muffling their noisy chatter. The melted mixture slowly swirled around the pair like a glistening pool of peach and honey nectar gently drawing them into its endless vortex of light and sound where they found themselves blissfully floating along.

Moments later, a sardonic smile slowly spread across the blonde’s face as she looked across the table, “Now, this is much better. She really looks good on you. Brunette is definitely your color.

Thanks. You don’t look so bad yourself,” her companion replied as she picked up and looked into the empty glass then signaled to the server for another round. Turning back to her friend she winked, “We need to celebrate a successful day of shopping!”

Looking down, the blonde smiled broadly and nodded approval as she ran her hands over the swell of her new found breasts. She laughed merrily, “See? This is why I’m inta girls.”


Her mother was delighted with the news, initially. 

She always knew that her daughter would be a writer – a journalist, perhaps. Finally, the girl would do what she had long envisioned. Yes, her daughter would do what she had the talent to do herself, but never had the time; the opportunity; or, more likely, the nerve to do.

“What are you writing?” she asked as she perched her chin in her hand, elbowing the dining room table where they sat sipping lukewarm coffee.

“Fiction,” her daughter replied evasively, half hoping to share the news without going into details.

“Oh? what kind of fiction?” the mother pushed, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Adult fiction,” she answered succinctly, hoping to end it right there while her mind raced to find another topic of conversation. How’s Aunt Betty? Have you heard from Angie, lately? Or, the sure-fire conversation derailment, “Have you lost weight?”

“Adult fiction? What is that?” her mother prodded with that all-too-familiar tinge of disapproval coloring the question.

The older woman knew the answer even as she asked the question. Still, she always pushed, poked, and prodded until she got her answers – answers that she most often disapproved of. This would be no exception.

Crap. Too slow.” she thought. Cutting to the chase, the girl said matter-of-factually, “Erotica, Mom. I write smut.” She then took a long swig of her too weak coffee and watched her mother’s reaction over the rim of the mug.

Predictably, the woman half-gasped, rolled her eyes and tsked as she shook her head, evoking the unspoken, “Where did I go wrong?”

It’s never good enough. Is it, Mother?” she shouted in her head, “No matter how hard I try, no matter how successful I am, it’s just never quite up to your standards. There’s always something wrong. At least, I try. What have you ever written that you had the courage to show anyone? Oh, and by the way, did you not hear the part where I am being published? It was the advance that paid for this little trip, here, to share the news with you. But, could you be happy for me? Nooooo. There is no pleasing you, is there?

The words raged in her head and she trembled with the effort to keep them from spilling from her mouth.

It was then that her father, a retired musician and talented artist in his own right, lowered the newspaper and folded it on the table. He looked first at his wife then back to his daughter. “Never apologize for your art.” he said simply.

The mother opened her mouth, prepared to voice her objections, but it was his voice that was heard instead.  “Never,” he repeated.

And there it was. Crystal clarity.

In the end, it didn’t matter what her mother, father or anyone else in the world – save only one – thought about what she did with her talents. They were her gifts to give. In truth, it was all that she truly had to offer: herself. Every word that spilled onto a page was a piece of her – her heart, her thoughts, her truth, her soul. Apologize for that?


She smiled as she drained the last of the now-cold coffee from the heavy ceramic cup and stood up from the table then leaned down to kiss first her mother then her father, “You’ll have to excuse me, now. I have some writing to do.”

A Side of Reality

With childlike wonder, she marveled at the Rockwellian surroundings never recalling the sky being that particular color before. (127)

The purple and emerald rains had washed the city making it vaguely unfamiliar though she thought she knew where she was. (120)

In awe, strangers reverently heaped praise, adoration and promises of eternal service on her to her growing discomfort and confusion. (133)

Others spoke to her with conspiratorial familiarity, pressing her for information and secrets that weren’t hers to give. (120)

Worried, she disappeared into the night to protect those she loved hiding in unlikely places as she waited for dawn. (116)

Voices whispered suggestions from the shadows – “drink that, hide here, cut off that lovely hair or better yet, cut off that finger.” (133)

Daylight came and went and peculiar people gave and took what they wanted as her heart and mind called for rescue from this strange place. (137)

While she waited for her hero, she danced on the fringe of her own sanity beneath the Sirius moonlight. Or, was it just a dream? (128)

“I’ll have the peach milk,” she told the server days later as she fingered the remains of her once long hair, “with a side of reality.” (135)

(Note: This is a compilation of individual tweets – 140 characters or less – woven together into a micro-flash fiction.)

Fire Dance

Leaves crackled underfoot as I crept near, drawn by the flickering glow of a camp fire that cast wavering shadows across the small clearing.

Watching secretly from the bushes, I saw a raven-haired girl dance to the throbbing earth-beat that pulsed up through her bare feet.

Bejeweled toes flexed, digging deeply into the coarse sand of the pit – talons holding prey.

Snaking arms glinted with golden bangles and coin bracelets clattered a cadence as her body pitched forward stretching…reaching.

Undulating hips rocked sinuously from side to side – honey trapped in an hour glass – Looping-Dipping-Lifting. Inviting men and their money.

A moan escaped my throat; my belly beckoned me to sway to the primal drum – to join her fire dance.

Startled, I gasped as another coin hit the ground at her feet tossed by an invisible hand. Who else watched from the shadows?

(Note: This is a compilation of individual tweets (140 characters or less) woven together into a single moment in time.

The Trip

“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.


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.”