Category Archives: meme

Wicked Wednesday #106 — Green-Eyed Monster

Fiona wore a bottle green dress that accentuated her Coca-Cola bottle shape, and the green eyed-monster that was rampant peeked out of her.
Eliza watched as Fiona gave the toast for her and Rafe’s upcoming wedding, promising to throw herself wholeheartedly into the planning of it. At the intimate family dinner, Rafe put his arm around Eliza.
“It will be hard, but I will make myself happy for you Eliza. I just will. Sometimes the green-eyed monster might show up, but I will always defeat it,” Fiona had promised her on the plane back to New York. Eliza saw the monster in Fiona’s eyes that she defeated, as she smiled despite it while giving the toast. It was hard to watch, but Eliza realized it was the right thing to do. Her love for Oscar was something that she was going to put to the side. She had already made a commitment to Rafe, and she would be committed. She put her hand in his, and he squeezed hers. Something was wrong. That was why she would marry him, she knew him so well.
In the car going home together, Eliza had her hand on his thigh. Sex with Rafe was something she was looking forward to, a means of reconnection.
She watched the New York skyline swirl around them, her hand went further up and inside his thigh. The tension she met there was unexpected.
“I have been sleeping with someone else…” He answered before she could ask.
Her hand tightened on the inside of his thigh, her nails digging.
“So have I!” She blurted out happy to compete.
The car swerved and forced them to the window roughly. He buffered her impact, as he regained control of the car and pulled over.
Eliza grabbed his thigh tight with fear, asking,
“Are you okay?”
“I’m okay, you?” She saw the blood at his temple, and took moist towelettes out of her purse to dab at this forehead. He looked like an actor with the New York skyline bigger than life about them, but real blood on his face.
“Are you in love with him? I was not in love, I was nervous about getting married and I just did not want to be responsible…”
“I felt like that too, I wanted to be reckless. I let someone pick me up, but I want this, us. I always loved you.”
They were silent, as she continued to wipe his face.
“Do you think we should go to the hospital?” She caressed his cheek.
“I am fine. You did not answer me, are you in love with him?”
The tears dropped before her mouth opened.
“I know you Eliza, you could not just sleep with someone.”
“You know me so well? This? This is not me. I was a free spirit when you met me. But you tamed me, I wanted to be tamed. But on my own? I am not tame…”
“You are blaming me because you fell in love with someone else?!”
“It is better to sleep with someone meaningless of course! You are not going to reprimand me for what I did!”
She never yelled like that, but after it came out of her mouth she realized that it was so dangerously true she was surprised she had not exploded before now.
“When I met you, you were different, but don’t blame me for trying to make you anything Eliza. I was even a little jealous of how free you were. But I thought you wanted to change.”
“I only want to be myself.”
“So you have pretended all this time. Pretended everything including loving me.”
“I never pretended I loved you…”
“But you love him don’t you?”
She looked at Rafe, like in a dream when she screamed and no sound came out of her mouth. Eliza could not say it, but it was there and lying would be worse.
With her mouth in a circle, just about to say it, she saw a flash of green. There was a crash into the car, and the words flew from her mouth soundless.

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photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #104 — Trigger Warnings

Eliza was restless and agitated after the opening. She and Oscar encountered Fiona after their seemingly unnoticed reemergence from the stairwell.
“Oscar!” Fiona greeted him with a kiss on the mouth, which surprised Eliza.
Now that love had been declared, she was possessive even though she had no right to be since she was engaged.
She leaned over and kissed Eliza too, her champagne-flavored mouth lingered just a little longer than expected. When she pulled away, Eliza was unable to describe the look in her eyes.
Champagne continued to flow along with random conversation.
“Trigger warnings for novels for students? I wish I had trigger warnings for my every day life. A warning about who not to fall in love with for example,” Fiona began.
Eliza felt her hand tighten around the delicate stem of her champagne glass. She was afraid to look at Oscar, but observed him peripherally.
“Life is a trigger. An imperfect poem, love should come with trigger warnings. It is never what you expect, it never can be. Eliza, do you ever think about that now that you are getting married? That Rafe might not live up to everything you want or expect?”
“Rafe and I know that love evolves, that things will change over time. We are not expecting to be surprised by that.”
Fiona looked at her with a bit of a smirk, before raising her champagne glass.
“Well cheers to the two of you, you have always been the most solid couple I know. I do not think anything can tear you apart.”
Eliza shrugged her shoulders, still avoiding looking at Oscar.
“Thanks Fi, we certainly are not perfect but it is nice to hear how you think of us.”
“Well then again, the one time I fell in love it was the complete opposite of what you and Rafe have. I fell in love with a woman I could not have. I really loved her and am friends with her, more than friends she is practically a sister…but I could not have her. She was in love with someone else, and then another person while still with the first person. She gives her love to everyone but me. Or maybe to no one at all.”
Eliza looked at Oscar finally, he looked at Fiona with a soft expression.
“Fiona, you are too beautiful for someone like that. You need to find someone who will love you.”
Fiona’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them like a butterfly so the tears would not fall.
“The problem is Oscar, no one loves me.”
“I love you Fiona.” Eliza hugged her fiercely. “You know I love you.”
“You’re like a sister…” Fiona said blinking her eyes quickly.

They ended up at the bar they were at the other night for dinner, the fire colors even more striking to Eliza. She embraced her role as sister when Fiona passed out over the table, her knife and fork a blur as they fell to the floor. Fiona’s head in her lap, Eliza ran her hands through her hair and caressed her cheek softly.The innocuous interaction with Fiona made her forget about the congestion she felt between her legs and rising. She had not been with Oscar for this long an amount of time without having sex. She wanted to so bad she was not sure what was going to happen if they did not.

Everything was a trigger…

“She is very fragile,” Oscar whispered watching her caress Fiona’s cheek and hair.

Eliza continued to avoid his eyes because she could not deal with the emotion that would be there, when there was no way to be any closer to him than she was now.

“Yes, she is and I am afraid to tell her that I am going to have to leave Shanghai soon too.

“You are leaving? When?”

“Soon. To New York, and pretend none of this happened. Maybe Fi will realize that she wants to come back home after being here alone.”

“To the perfect family…”

“Nothing is perfect, nothing at all…”Eliza shifted in her seat so heavy with desire, she was afraid it would burst.

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photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #102 — Going Dutch

Eliza focused and saw Fiona, she dropped her hands from Oscar’s chest and faced the bar.
“I just saw Fiona, and I am not sure if she saw me.”
“And you are scared to be caught with me?” Oscar questioned looking at the bar, and not at her.
She stared at his hands, thickly veined and soft, grabbed one.
“I am not afraid of anything,” she said getting up, leading him so he followed her over to Fiona’s table.
Fiona gave her a deadpan expression, but her expression and eyes shifted on Oscar.
“I guess all of the Americans are here, I met my friend Oscar here as well.” Eliza added lightly, but cautiously. “Is it okay if we sit with you?”
With a shrug that indicated it was okay, Eliza and Oscar sat down.
“Oscar, this is my sister-in-law Fiona.”
“Not yet,” Fiona stated, extending her hand to Oscar.
“Practically,” Eliza answered a little breathless, and deflated between the legs. She knew that she was not going to be able to sleep with Oscar that night. She had been more than ready, almost at the bar even, but now there was no chance. A little more than envious of Fiona’s handshake with him, she closed her eyes thinking about the texture of his skin.
She loved being able to introduce him, letting him know he meant something to her and she figured that if she did not hide him, it would not look conspicuous to Fiona.
Oscar ordered drinks, and Eliza was thankful for Fiona’s impeccable manners. Eliza knew she would not create a scene in front of a stranger, so she exploited it.
“Fiona is a gifted photographer. She just had a show in New York, and now she is going to have a show in Shanghai.”
“Fiona Morgan? I just saw your show in New York, and I saw a write-up about the Shanghai show. I recognized your Francesca Woodman like photo in the collage,” Oscar said.
“You must have liked it if you could tell which one it was in the group!” Fiona smiled.
Eliza breathed an inner sigh of relief. Fiona was very proud of her work, and was going to love talking to Oscar about herself as an artist. She was surprised at Oscar’s knowledge of art, even more so that he dabbled in photography.
“You have to come to the opening in a few days!” Fiona declared with a smile that lilted as she looked at Eliza. “Eliza must bring you.”
“I don’t have any of Oscar’s information,” Eliza lied, between her legs making her shift with discomfort because she knew when she was going to be able to see him again. In a gallery there would be a way for her to touch his skin, to have his hands she studied on her again.
“I can give it to you!” he smiled.
She knew what he meant above her waist, but below her waist felt like she wanted to wipe at the hot moisture between her legs.
“Of course,” she said.
Eliza insisted they go Dutch when the bill came, but Oscar ignored her entirely. He stood up to leave, and she feared she would come if he hugged her.
He hugged Fiona first, and then her. She just hid her gasp in a quick kiss on his cheek because she did indeed almost come. She hoped Fiona would think it was the effect of the alcohol.
When he left she did not look after him, his scent and touch clung to her like tapestry even after he was gone.
Fiona had been drinking a lot, more than usual.
“Eliza, I know it was wrong what I said but I was in bed with you, and I lost control for a moment. I am sorry, I need time to forgive myself for losing control. You know I never do,” she slurred softly.
Eliza sat next to her, and Fiona put her head on her shoulder.
“I do love you Fi, just not the way…”
Fiona kissed the nape of her neck, and maybe it was how she was feeling already but it felt excessively nice. She closed her eyes.
“Not the way you love Oscar, I see.”
Eliza became rigid, the mention of his name and her crossed legs squeezed tight made her come, but she felt no release.

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photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #101 — A Chance

“You know you are the daughter they always wanted.”

Eliza’s eyes were wide from what Fiona said, and the gorgeous view that she had of Shanghai from the window. It was hard for Eliza to hear that even though she knew it was true, out of Fiona’s mouth.

“Not Mom, Dad or Rafe suggested that I should not come here. Frankly that is fine, because I am not planning on going back to New York.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes, and you can be the bearer of the good news. I am staying here.”

Fiona sat calm in a lotus pose on the bed opposite her.

“I cannot tell them that.”

“You will, you will, because I am not going back.”

“Why can’t you go back Fi? Everyone who loves you is there. What is here for you in Shanghai?”

Fiona shook her head, bit her bottom lip and looked out of the huge window from the bed.

Eliza leaned forward and touched Fiona’s leg. The darkness and moisture in Fiona’s eyes when she touched her was not something she expected. She pulled her hand away.

“I can’t go back because the person I am in love with is in love with someone else.”

“You are going to let your love for someone make you leave everything that you know?

The words rushed out of her mouth, but Eliza realized she was in Shanghai because she ached for a man that was not the man she was going to marry. How many times had she tried to justify to herself that it was just a fling? But she was in Shanghai for Oscar, and she was advising Fiona.

“I cannot be there when you get married…”
“What does the wedding have to do with anything?”

Eliza looked at Fiona’s watery eyes, and watched her bite her lip even more. Her feelings of empathy were so deep, her eyes teared up as well.

“Eliza, I love about you that you are so naive. You think the world is a beautiful place, and you think everything in your world is beautiful. My parents love you, my brother loves you and I love you.”

“I love you too, Fi.”
Fiona placed her hand on Eliza the same way Eliza had placed her hand on her thigh, but slightly higher.

And then higher.

They looked at each other.

“How can I be in New York when you marry Rafe when I love you Eliza?”

Eliza shook her head.

“This is the biggest chance I have ever taken in my life coming to Shanghai alone with you.” Fiona took Eliza’s hand in hers. “This is my big chance, and I am just going to have it and tell you I love you. I loved you since Rafe brought you home. I loved you and wanted you, and had to pretend all this time. I thought maybe you would break up. No. Solid. I cannot be there for the wedding.”

Eliza looked at Fiona’s hand shaking on her thigh, and squeezed hers tight over it.

“Fiona, I never knew, and I’m sorry. I am sorry that you are in so much pain. But you have to come home with me…”

“I cannot be at that wedding.”

Fiona pulled her hand from Eliza’s, and got up from the bed to stand by the huge window which she seemed to drown in. Eliza followed her to the window. She wanted to say something to Fiona, but did not know what to say.

When Fiona turned around, they looked at each other for a long time.

“I have to go to meet with a gallery owner here. She speaks English, so there is no need for you to come with me. Really Eliza, there is no reason for you to even be here anymore if you do not want to be.”
Eliza was speechless as Fiona walked out of the apartment.

Her engagement to Rafe was supposed to be the thing that defined her. She was going to be his wife. Then Oscar defined her, she was his lover. Now Fiona was defined her, she was her unrequited love.

She stood still for a moment trying to take in everything, trying to be.

And then like Pavlov’s dog, a ping from her phone made her jump.

She picked up her phone, and typed furiously. Without thinking, and still not sure about getting around in Shanghai, she got into a cab with her light knowledge of the language.

She arrived at a bar with seats that looked like fire-filled lanterns. Oscar was there waiting for her, her heart beat so loud she heard it pounding in her ears. She almost ran to him, but stopped herself. He had never seen her be anything but calm and collected her.

She slowly sashayed toward him, and he looked down at her.

“Oscar,” she could finally say, and not just think or say softly aloud to herself.

He caressed her cheek.

“What is wrong?”

The way he looked at her, searching for what she had hoped to hide made her tear up.

He wiped the first tear that fell, and kissed her where it landed above her cheek.

It all rushed out of her mouth, as she heaved more than cried. She looked down when she was done, and listened to Oscar order drinks.

“You speak the language too?”

He nodded, and asked,

“What are you going to do?”

Eliza sighed heavily, her hand on his hand on her thigh pressing into it for support.

Her mind murmured Oscar’s name over and over again, as she became tearful again and the fire-colored seats looked like fire in earnest around them.

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shanghai photo via wikipedia

Wicked Wednesday #100 — Full Circle

Eliza was happy that she was going to meet Rafe at his sister’s gallery opening. Meeting him there, she could blame her state of mind on jetlag and not having eaten. Quickly leaving her luggage at the coat check, she had barely walked into the space before she was handed a glass of champagne she gladly accepted.

“Eliza!”

Fiona rushed to hug her. Eliza enjoyed the genuine warmth from her sister-in-law-to-be. Fiona was the artist her parents had not expected to have in the family, and the reason why they and Rafe tried to mold Eliza into the daughter they had really wanted.

She was perfect by their standards and Rafe’s.

Her husband-to-be stood behind his sister, his appraisal of her was appreciative and she felt placated. Her back in New York dress was one Rafe had selected himself. As soon as Fiona let her go, Rafe moved forward, caressed her hip and took her in his arms.

“I missed you,” he breathed behind her ear. She smiled more so because she was ticklish there as opposed to returning the sentiment.

She was not unhappy to see Rafe, but it was not as easy this time to leave Oscar…

Oscar, she whispered his name over and over in her head since she learned it, saying it to herself when she thought about him which was often.

Paris had been Oscar and Eliza. Oscar was in Shanghai now without her, and she was in New York with Rafe. She looked up at Rafe, into his eyes that studied her as if he was making sure there was nothing different about her. He closed his eyes, and pressed his lips to her forehead. Later when they were alone, she knew that the darkness in those eyes was going to be her very sensuous reality and she was very eager for that. To learn him again, her hands pressed to the expanse of his wide chest before she buried her face there. His lips were on the top of her head, as he caressed her face and pushed her hair away from her cheek.

Her eyes were glazed as she stared at the Francesca Woodmanesque photos that Fiona had filled the gallery with. It was clear that Woodman was an influence on her, Fiona’s work was a happier expression of that style. Champagne and delicacies flowed about them, as they strolled through the gallery.

“Fiona, this is gorgeous,” Eliza said, still in Rafe’s embrace.

“You always know the right thing to say,” Rafe whispered to her after his sister walked away.

The sepia photos were lovely, and Fiona was young, fearless and not afraid to use her body as an instrument.

Eliza wished that she had that kind of confidence.

Rafe’s parents appeared around a gallery corner and kissed her before they kissed their own daughter. Eliza had that kind of relationship with his parents. She had now come full circle from her accidental transgression.

This was where she belonged.

“How was Paris?” Rafe’s mother asked her beaming.

“Paris is Paris!” she exclaimed brightly, as Rafe squeezed her.

“It was more lovely while you were there,” he said.

She closed her eyes as Rafe kissed the tip of her nose. His mother continued beaming,

“You lovebirds! Let’s go have dinner, we have reservations close by…”

Dinner was pleasant talk about Paris reinvented by Eliza without mention of Oscar. Fiona was silent all throughout, having expressed dismay at her show.

“It was a lovely show Fiona, I am not sure why you are so miserable,” her mother said to her.

“I need inspiration Mother. Everything I am doing seems so homogeneous…”

“So you are saying you have come full circle with your art?” her father asked.

“You want to travel again?” Rafe asked with weak patience for his younger sister.

Fiona played with the gooey chocolate cake she had ordered, not looking at anyone at the table.

“I have only really ever gotten grants to work in Europe. There is a grant I could get in Shanghai…Eliza, you speak some Mandarin don’t you?’

Eliza choked.

“Yes, I can write a bit too.”
“You said you wanted to go somewhere exciting for your next vacation. Maybe if Rafe will loan you to me, we could go to Shanghai I want to visit anyway. I have a friend there who is an artist, and the scene there is kind of ambitious and if one of us speaks the language…”

“Of course Rafe will loan Eliza to you Fiona,” Rafe’s mother eyed Rafe and Eliza strongly which Fiona could not see because she was sitting next to her.

Rafe and Eliza were silent. She was going to be the obedient faux daughter, and go to Shanghai with Fiona.

Oscar, she almost said out loud, but caught herself as she exhaled a whoosh of air to disguise the sound of his name.

Home later with Rafe, he took off his tie.

“This would be the second place that I cannot come with you. Paris, now Shanghai…”

He held his tie, and opened his shirt.

“I can still say no,” she said walking over to him, putting her hands on his chest.

She wanted him to tell her no, wanted him to tell her not to go. She would have listened.

His dark eyes appraised her.

“I cannot disappoint my parents, they will not let Fiona go without you, and that means Fiona will go however she has to. We are a family, sometimes we have to make sacrifices…”

She nodded, looking down, he raised her chin so she looked up at him and kissed her.

“She can borrow you, but you are mine. My perfect girl…”
Eliza looked up at the cracks on the ceiling, moaning as he kissed her and again on a deep whoosh of exhaled breath, she hid the name she almost moaned and thought of Shanghai…

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photo via wikipedia

Wicked Wednesday Prompt #99 — Safe Sex

Eliza guessed she dozed off, there was a secret smile inside her when she woke because they had not had to leave as quickly as they had the first time so that she could return to Rafe. She rolled onto her side and relished when he squeezed her simply because he felt her move, easily she maneuvered from under him and out of the bed. On the dresser, she pulled a tissue from its dispenser and moved the used condom that was there. She walked into the bathroom, the cool tiles underneath her feet startling her from the still warm feeling from being with him again.

Oddly she removed the condom from the tissue and looked at it for a moment. Her fingers French manicured as a joke because she was going to Paris, with the thinnest lines of white because she just started to grow her fingernails a few weeks before. She had been a diligent nail biter. Those manicured fingernails caressed the used condom which she tied in a knot. The evidence of what she had done with him, this man who had wrecked her inside even when she did not believe she was ever going to see him again.

One thing that she cared about in this whole affair was that she was safe about it. Rafe deserved that much from her, if nothing else. She knew what Rafe tasted like, what he felt like inside her, bare and warm. She liked it, she had liked everything she thought…

Dumping the condom into the wastebasket, she washed her hands then sat on the toilet and was distracted by sensation of urinating that made her want to have sex all over again. She wondered what exactly was she doing? Why had she done this again when it had wrecked her? Now Paris was not going to be about business, it was going to be about pleasure. Pure pleasure no matter what happened when they walked out of this hotel room, and he walked out of her life for a second time.

Flushing the toilet, and hopefully her emotions, she washed her hands again and walked back into the bedroom. He was lying on his back with one leg up and looked at her.

“Did you bring your restlessness to Paris, cherie?”

Walking as if she was fully clothed at one of her meetings, she crossed her arms and flexed her foot.

“Business brought me to Paris. Was that a question?”

“What is this Jeopardy? Yes, it was a question.”

“I thought there were no questions, no guilt, no rings…”

Her ring was still on.

“I have to know about you now, because I am going to need to know who you are in case you show up in the next city I am in.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” she said sitting on the edge of the bed. “This was an aventure.”

He pulled her close to him.

“You speak a lot of French don’t you?”
He kissed her and she was sure she was flowed over his body like a waterfall, her sharp words betrayed by her body.

“I have cocktails tonight with some clients, I have to go,” She pulled away slightly.

He released her.

“I have something tonight as well, what are you doing after?”

Eliza studied his face and could not decipher what he was about. What he wanted.

“Is your fiance here?” he continued to question.

She shook her head.

“Are you alone?” she asked him, now that questions were allowed.

He nodded, as he pulled her close to kiss her again. She did not resist, even though she did have to go. When they pulled away, she looked into his eyes posing a question and answering his at the same time.

Cocktails later were a blur, she kept looking at her watch and wondering if it was almost time to return to him. She had two drinks and sipped them laboriously as one of the men at the table tried to flirt with her furiously and she did not want to end up in the mist of another aventure. It seemed that it was true that ever since she had gotten engaged more men seemed to notice her.

Slightly tipsy, she walked out of the restaurant and hailed a cab for the first time in Paris. Delivered to her hotel, because she had a meeting in the morning, she went up to her room and he was already there. His mouth tasted of scotch, and she sucked on his lip to get all the taste of it.

“So how was your meeting Eliza?”

“How do you know my name?”

He pointed the suitcase in the corner with her name tag on it.

Eliza shrugged.

The telephone rang and she ran to it, kicking off her heels.

“Rafe?”

Her conversation with Rafe was as hushed as she could make it, as he walked about the room pretending to be distracted.

“I love you too,” she whispered and then hung up the phone. “You do not have to pretend to be distracted, the conversation is over.”
He turned around,

She rushed over to him, placed her hand on his chest.

“What is your name?”

“Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name…”

His smile was broad as he quoted the Rolling Stones’ song lyrics.

“You are the devil,” she concurred. “You are…”

She closed her eyes and the special darkness of his kiss commanded her life and she wrapped a leg about him. Tipsy and full of need, she did not care what this devil’s name was for the moment.

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photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday Prompt #98 — "Hunger"

I guess I got attached to my characters from last week, because in the middle of trying to write something completely different this story came to me:

She had no idea Paris was rainy, everyone knew it except for her. This trip to Paris was her first, and by herself. Rafe was still in New York, unable to leave his job and join her.

Paris was more than she expected it would be but even so, she was hungry for more: of the city, of life or of something she could not define while studying her alleged grande cafe which had beads of honey on the edge of it from the spoonful she had put in it. Her heel knocked against the wooden leg of her chair.

“Your engagement ring is lovely, you must have quite a love story.”

Eliza looked at the man at the table next to hers, her heel stopped knocking.

“I do,” she said as she would say eventually with Rafe when they married.

Her foot tapped again on the wooden leg of her chair.

“Do you want to tell me?”

She shook her head, and stood up on the high heels that Rafe had encouraged her to be comfortable in.

“It’s a long story.”

His answer was lost in the rush of heat that overcame her, at the sight of the man walking toward the fountain across the street. Eliza put several euros on the table and walked outside in her trench coat. She looked down from both from the rain and not wanting to be seen.

What would she say to him, him to her? She did not know his name, only his body and scent. She had to abide by his rules–no guilt, no names and no questions–because she had none of his details. It felt suddenly as if her heart had moved from her chest to between her legs, she felt her labia twitch in response. The thumping there was so intense, she could barely walk but she did staggering far behind him. He did not seem to have a destination, so it was awkward for her to appear as if she was not following him.

She took a deep breath, and turned in the opposite direction.

The next few days were filled with meetings. Her heart had returned to its rightful place in her chest, and she had nonstop correspondence with Rafe.

After one meeting she saw Angelina, their notorious hot chocolate called to her from what she had read about in guidebooks. The chocolate would be a meal as well since she had not eaten. Waltzed into the grand dining room by the hostess, she immediately ordered a hot chocolate in French, and when the waitress walked away her heart dropped back down between her legs.

He was sitting diagonally across from her, there was no way he would not notice her. She looked down at her napkin until the word Angelina on it became a blur, as she studied it to not look at him. When her hot chocolate arrived, she looked up helplessly and he was staring at her. Only because he was looking at her, did she look back at him. If she had wanted to say anything, he silenced her by putting his fingers over his lips. The thumping increased between her legs, she could barely sit still.

Eliza dipped a spoon into the whipped cream next to her chocolate. She remained silent after a quick merci to her waitress who handed her more napkins. Using peripheral vision, she watched him sign his check and get up. She closed her eyes as she brought the chocolate to her mouth to savor the rich liquid. It was everything she imagined it would be: Paris, the chocolate, but she was empty.

When she opened her eyes, there was a hotel card on the table and she knew he had left it there. She wanted to jump up from her seat, and the reckless way she desired to she would have spilled her thick liquid chocolate all over her lap. Instead she pretended that she was savoring the chocolate that had become flavorless because she was so excited to follow him to the room number written on the card. She licked her upper lip for flavorless whipped cream and chocolate. When she paid her bill and got up, she felt as if she would black out from anticipation.

Relying heavily on the GPS app on her phone to get to the apparently nearby address, Eliza managed to find the hotel which was blocks away. He waited for her. Burping up a little bit of hot chocolate that she had sipped too quickly, she walked over to him. Nervously twisting her engagement ring, she stood in front of him. He took her hand and kissed her fingers, and almost the diamond of her ring.

She became lachrymose. It was not that she was sorry about what she was doing. She had never done anything like this until him, and she wanted to do it again. Wanted to touch him again, wanted him to kiss her again, wanted him to everything again. Her thighs tremored with the heavy thumping between her legs.

She had hungered for him, for what she had had with him in a dark hotel room ever since she had had it. Nothing had been the same since. Even with Rafe which was nice, but it was not this. Rafe fucked her like she was perfect, and she was not perfect.

She wanted to be fucked like an imperfect woman.

They got into the elevator together, Eliza studied his long fingers pressing the buttons for the floor they were going to. This hotel was not like the mirror-filled one where they had met, but she was happy. She did not want to see the lust on her face, just wanted to feel it thumping between her legs.

Inside the hotel room, he kissed her and she gnawed at his lower lip as if it were a meal. She wrapped one leg about him, and he kissed her neck. Offering more of her neck to him, she pressed her head to the wall as he pressed himself to her. And even as between her legs thumped harder with lust, she felt something quench within her.

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photo by f dot leonora

Holding A Mirror To Myself (Meme)

From the time I saw that Alison Tyler had an affinity for typewriters, I trusted her completely. I saw this meme on her blog, and asked to be part of it because I like to hold a mirror to myself to revisit my purpose sometimes. I’m a writer, but I barely think about why and my process. I started writing as a little girl, the same way birds start building nests–instinctively. I answered the questions first, then wrote the introduction which verifies the writing process I described below.

What am I working on?

I have several anthologies and some full-length novels I am working on for Ravenous Romance, and I am writing a short story for one of the anthologies.

How does my work differ from others in its genre?

I am pretty much like everyone else, but I am telling the story. No one is reinventing the wheel in any genre, but we all tell the story differently. I am not particularly good about describing myself, but I have been told my storytelling style leaves the reader with an atmosphere of mystery which I like because who would connect that immediately to an erotic piece that is not a thriller? I will go to certain places and take photographs, so that I can remember their details to include in a story. The story I am working on now had a scene relocated from a hotel lobby, to that of a cigar bar that I was in.

Why do I write what I do?

In my experience, love is everything. No matter how people want to resist it and make it seem like it is hokey, once people fall in love it changes everything, becomes everything. So marvelous and intoxicating, like turning around and around the way children do until they get dizzy and lie on the floor to recover. Writing about people losing control in love, I love it. Gotta have that man or woman now syndrome, and the rabbit hole that it takes someone down.

How does my writing process work?

If fiction is supposed to mirror real life (although real life is much more bizarre!), you certainly do not have an outline for how to live. I never do an outline, I think it cheats my characters if I know what is going to happen every step of the way. Usually with me stories end happily, though I like some darkness too. But the cream in the middle is structured from scene to scene. The same way that in an instant I think I am going to do something and end up doing something else, I provide my characters the exact same freedom.

You can read Alison’s meme here, and see the other writers who are doing it as well.

photo courtesy of Wikimedia Commons