Friday, May 28, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday 5-28-10: "Rituals"
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
"Lights, Camera, Action"
"I've heard stories about you lately, Val," he said calmly, sipping from his Perrier.
"Indeed? Oh, do tell," she said. "I love a good story."
"Well, there are so many," he mused. "Here're a few words and phrases....'Spoiled.' 'Vain.' 'Impossible to work with.'"
She stood stock-still, gaze hooded, head tilting slowly to face him as he circled her.
"I've got more," he said. "'Fiery temper.' 'Talented, but squirrelly.' 'Unpredictable.'" He moved closer. "'Past her prime.'"
She made a negligent gesture, her cigarette leaving dissolving trails spiraling upward. "They do say," she began, "that the only thing worse than being talked about..."
"...'is not being talked about.' Yes, I know. I've been in this business as long as you have, my dear."
Gray eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm not your 'dear', or anyone else's," she hissed. "Call me that again and I'll tear your face off."
"Tut! Manners," he admonished, shaking a finger at her. "We're on in five. Dawes is good at what she does, but even she couldn't cover over fingernail furrows in that short a time."
She tensed; he half hoped she would try it anyway. Might add a little spice, a little zip, to the upcoming scene. He'd been bored out of his skull in the ones they'd done so far, and they weren't even a quarter done with shooting. But then she sagged. The fire in her eyes dimmed to faint embers.
"So let's get it done, then," she said dully. "I've gotten good at playing lies, after all."
He nodded. "So you have," he said softly.
*******************
The director's exasperated shout rang through the set. "God dammit, Thomas, what is with you today? Can't you focus for more than two minutes?"
Thomas shook his head and emerged from his reverie, realizing scant seconds later that his hands were still gripping Valerie by her shoulders. There was a very smug look in her gray eyes. "Bitch," he muttered, sotto voce, and her mouth curved in a knowing grin.
He turned to face Wilkins. "Ah....I'm sorry, Scott," he called. "Got my mind on other things, I guess."
Other things. Yeah. Like the warm springy feel of Valerie's body against him. Like the way she smelled, like rain on the ocean. And most of all, damn it all, the way her lips felt on his. Jesus, what was the matter with him? Forty-some years in the biz and he couldn't handle a straightforward love scene? Twenty-odd fucking takes and the words were still coming out like he was carved from wood.
Wilkins was obviously losing patience. "'Other things?'" he parroted sarcastically. "I don't give a good goddamn what other things you have on your mind, but you'd better get rid of them." He tore off his headphones and threw them on the floor. "Everyone take fifteen," he barked. Turning, he glared at Thomas. "You and Valerie go practice this scene. When you get back here, I want to see something better than this amateur hour I've been seeing for the past goddamn hour."
Thomas felt a sinking feeling. He knew what she was going to say, and she didn't disappoint.
"Let's try it in your trailer," Valerie purred. ".....Dear."
*******************
The latch clicked shut with a dull snicking sound, and Thomas turned to find Valerie regarding him from all of two feet away. There was a speculative look on her face. Was she sizing him up? Calculating how best to humiliate him, now that she held the upper hand? How, precisely, was she going to make things more difficult for him when they went back to the set?
When she spoke, though, it was so far from what he'd expected that he couldn't process it at all.
"Please tell me," she said tremulously, "that you're feeling it too."
He blinked, honestly stunned. Expecting castigation, he'd heard instead.....what? Concern? Confusion? Was that vulnerability?
She was waiting for an answer. The problem was he didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to say. All his training was gone, all his years of performing had deserted him. And....no, she couldn't mean. Could she?
Now the silence was too old. He had to say something.
"I....guess that depends," he said, his voice sounding rusty and graveled in his ears. "What...are you feeling?"
Valerie seemed to wilt before his eyes, drawing in on herself like a plant in too much sunlight. She sighed. "I guess it was too much to ask," she said, for the first time sounding every bit her age. Her eyes filled and she blinked rapidly. "For a while there I thought....oh, for chrissake, I don't know what I thought."
Thomas felt his old heart skip a beat. Throwing his usual caution to the wind, he stepped in close and kissed her.
God, what a kiss. Worlds different from the playacting they'd been doing for the past hour. There was heat here, and the taste of her lips, like a crisp white wine. There was the rush of fire in his veins, the stirring of desires long dormant. There was a roaring in his ears, and the humming sound of her moaning into his mouth. Most of all there was the passion he'd sensed, the explosive potential she'd kept bottled up for the last few years, releasing it only in fits of temper at assistant directors, draftsmen, costumers, makeup artists and anyone else who annoyed her.
But this vibrancy, this rush of life and heat, this delirious buzzing sensation as they kissed and kissed and kissed, that was something he'd never dared hope for. He'd wondered in idle moments if it was something he was even capable of anymore, in fact. The crackling flame sweeping through his body told him quite emphatically he was capable of it and much more. He was harder than he'd been in years, sporting an indecently prominent erection. Val was obviously aware of it, her hips pressing firmly against him, her hands roaming over his back and down his body, their kiss going on and on, only stoking the flames higher.
An eternity later they broke for air. Val's silver hair was mussed from where he'd been winding his fingers through it, and he guessed his own was no less comical. Right at the moment he didn't give a damn, his only thought how he could get her out of that outfit with a minimum of fuss and take what they obviously both wanted so much. He began fumbling with the buttons on her shirt and she cooperated eagerly. "Yes, yes, my dear, yes," she was saying, the words coming from very far away through the rising buzz inside his skull.
And the outside world chose that exquisite moment to intrude: a hammering fist on the trailer door startled them both into immobility. "Five minutes, Thomas, Val!" a voice called. Rough, brusque, female; probably Wilkins's assistant Freda. Thomas would have cheerfully told her to fuck off running if Val hadn't started shaking with silent laughter.
He looked at her in consternation. "Is this really happening to us? A golden moment like that, spoiled, and all you can do is laugh?"
"It's either that or cry," she managed between gales of mirth. "I guess we'd better not keep them waiting." Her fingers were already working at her shirtfront, buttoning herself up again. She brushed past him and reached for the door, then turned, as if in afterthought.
"But I get the feeling that the scene'll go a lot better this time, don't you think?"
He nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat for some reason. "Val?" he said as she turned the knob and stepped outside.
She turned back once more, silver hair shining in the spill of sunlight from outside. "Yes, Tom?"
"After we wrap for the day....we need to talk."
She reached out a hand and touched his cheek softly. "Of course we do. And we will. Time enough for that later. We've got all the time in the world."
-- PB
"Indeed? Oh, do tell," she said. "I love a good story."
"Well, there are so many," he mused. "Here're a few words and phrases....'Spoiled.' 'Vain.' 'Impossible to work with.'"
She stood stock-still, gaze hooded, head tilting slowly to face him as he circled her.
"I've got more," he said. "'Fiery temper.' 'Talented, but squirrelly.' 'Unpredictable.'" He moved closer. "'Past her prime.'"
She made a negligent gesture, her cigarette leaving dissolving trails spiraling upward. "They do say," she began, "that the only thing worse than being talked about..."
"...'is not being talked about.' Yes, I know. I've been in this business as long as you have, my dear."
Gray eyes narrowed to slits. "I'm not your 'dear', or anyone else's," she hissed. "Call me that again and I'll tear your face off."
"Tut! Manners," he admonished, shaking a finger at her. "We're on in five. Dawes is good at what she does, but even she couldn't cover over fingernail furrows in that short a time."
She tensed; he half hoped she would try it anyway. Might add a little spice, a little zip, to the upcoming scene. He'd been bored out of his skull in the ones they'd done so far, and they weren't even a quarter done with shooting. But then she sagged. The fire in her eyes dimmed to faint embers.
"So let's get it done, then," she said dully. "I've gotten good at playing lies, after all."
He nodded. "So you have," he said softly.
*******************
The director's exasperated shout rang through the set. "God dammit, Thomas, what is with you today? Can't you focus for more than two minutes?"
Thomas shook his head and emerged from his reverie, realizing scant seconds later that his hands were still gripping Valerie by her shoulders. There was a very smug look in her gray eyes. "Bitch," he muttered, sotto voce, and her mouth curved in a knowing grin.
He turned to face Wilkins. "Ah....I'm sorry, Scott," he called. "Got my mind on other things, I guess."
Other things. Yeah. Like the warm springy feel of Valerie's body against him. Like the way she smelled, like rain on the ocean. And most of all, damn it all, the way her lips felt on his. Jesus, what was the matter with him? Forty-some years in the biz and he couldn't handle a straightforward love scene? Twenty-odd fucking takes and the words were still coming out like he was carved from wood.
Wilkins was obviously losing patience. "'Other things?'" he parroted sarcastically. "I don't give a good goddamn what other things you have on your mind, but you'd better get rid of them." He tore off his headphones and threw them on the floor. "Everyone take fifteen," he barked. Turning, he glared at Thomas. "You and Valerie go practice this scene. When you get back here, I want to see something better than this amateur hour I've been seeing for the past goddamn hour."
Thomas felt a sinking feeling. He knew what she was going to say, and she didn't disappoint.
"Let's try it in your trailer," Valerie purred. ".....Dear."
*******************
The latch clicked shut with a dull snicking sound, and Thomas turned to find Valerie regarding him from all of two feet away. There was a speculative look on her face. Was she sizing him up? Calculating how best to humiliate him, now that she held the upper hand? How, precisely, was she going to make things more difficult for him when they went back to the set?
When she spoke, though, it was so far from what he'd expected that he couldn't process it at all.
"Please tell me," she said tremulously, "that you're feeling it too."
He blinked, honestly stunned. Expecting castigation, he'd heard instead.....what? Concern? Confusion? Was that vulnerability?
She was waiting for an answer. The problem was he didn't have the slightest idea what he was going to say. All his training was gone, all his years of performing had deserted him. And....no, she couldn't mean. Could she?
Now the silence was too old. He had to say something.
"I....guess that depends," he said, his voice sounding rusty and graveled in his ears. "What...are you feeling?"
Valerie seemed to wilt before his eyes, drawing in on herself like a plant in too much sunlight. She sighed. "I guess it was too much to ask," she said, for the first time sounding every bit her age. Her eyes filled and she blinked rapidly. "For a while there I thought....oh, for chrissake, I don't know what I thought."
Thomas felt his old heart skip a beat. Throwing his usual caution to the wind, he stepped in close and kissed her.
God, what a kiss. Worlds different from the playacting they'd been doing for the past hour. There was heat here, and the taste of her lips, like a crisp white wine. There was the rush of fire in his veins, the stirring of desires long dormant. There was a roaring in his ears, and the humming sound of her moaning into his mouth. Most of all there was the passion he'd sensed, the explosive potential she'd kept bottled up for the last few years, releasing it only in fits of temper at assistant directors, draftsmen, costumers, makeup artists and anyone else who annoyed her.
But this vibrancy, this rush of life and heat, this delirious buzzing sensation as they kissed and kissed and kissed, that was something he'd never dared hope for. He'd wondered in idle moments if it was something he was even capable of anymore, in fact. The crackling flame sweeping through his body told him quite emphatically he was capable of it and much more. He was harder than he'd been in years, sporting an indecently prominent erection. Val was obviously aware of it, her hips pressing firmly against him, her hands roaming over his back and down his body, their kiss going on and on, only stoking the flames higher.
An eternity later they broke for air. Val's silver hair was mussed from where he'd been winding his fingers through it, and he guessed his own was no less comical. Right at the moment he didn't give a damn, his only thought how he could get her out of that outfit with a minimum of fuss and take what they obviously both wanted so much. He began fumbling with the buttons on her shirt and she cooperated eagerly. "Yes, yes, my dear, yes," she was saying, the words coming from very far away through the rising buzz inside his skull.
And the outside world chose that exquisite moment to intrude: a hammering fist on the trailer door startled them both into immobility. "Five minutes, Thomas, Val!" a voice called. Rough, brusque, female; probably Wilkins's assistant Freda. Thomas would have cheerfully told her to fuck off running if Val hadn't started shaking with silent laughter.
He looked at her in consternation. "Is this really happening to us? A golden moment like that, spoiled, and all you can do is laugh?"
"It's either that or cry," she managed between gales of mirth. "I guess we'd better not keep them waiting." Her fingers were already working at her shirtfront, buttoning herself up again. She brushed past him and reached for the door, then turned, as if in afterthought.
"But I get the feeling that the scene'll go a lot better this time, don't you think?"
He nodded, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat for some reason. "Val?" he said as she turned the knob and stepped outside.
She turned back once more, silver hair shining in the spill of sunlight from outside. "Yes, Tom?"
"After we wrap for the day....we need to talk."
She reached out a hand and touched his cheek softly. "Of course we do. And we will. Time enough for that later. We've got all the time in the world."
-- PB
Monday, May 24, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 5-28-10
Your challenge for this Friday, 5-28-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 122-128 words. As usual, nobody's checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.
A note to all participants this week: I will be out of town for the holidays on Friday the 28th and so I will probably not be making the rounds on Friday morning. My take on the pic and the list of participants will be scheduled for Friday morning but I won't have a chance to add any late participants. So please let me know by Thursday afternoon if you want to play along so I don't leave you off the list of players. Email (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) is fine, or leave a comment here.
Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.
Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way.
-- PB
Friday, May 21, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday 5-21-10: "Down and Dirty"
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Reunion
The door clicked shut behind him and he sagged. "God, these fucking things are heavy," he groused. "When'll you learn to pack light for a trip?"
"Oh, shut up," she smirked. "You'd rather I stayed away for a couple more weeks?"
He snorted. "As if. It was bad enough living without you for six months."
"How bad, exactly?" she inquired dulcetly.
He gave her a very direct look. "I haven't left the house. I don't have any energy, any appetite -- for anything. I haven't slept for more than two hours since dropping you off at the airport. Vicky, don't you fucking know that you're got your claws sunk deep in me?"
She smiled. "Yes, but it's always nice to hear it. Ohhh, don't look so annoyed. C'mere. Kiss me. Show me how much you've missed me."
A trail of tangled clothes told the tale of their hasty rush towards reunion; a broken newel post on the bannister spoke of the brief but intense interlude on the stairway, when she grabbed on for support as he plunged deep, driving her hard and fast against the railing. The screaming had barely stopped from the first time before she was coaxing him back into life, straddling him in the hallway and wrapping her legs around his ass. He managed to lift and drop her onto his thick branch as he staggered into the bedroom, swaying in reverse to fall backwards onto the bed with her pressing him down. And she moaned, and he thrust, and she bounced on him with increasing fervor, and he shouted her name, and spasmed within, feeling her draw him out to his utmost.
"Missed you so," he murmured, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat slow. She gave no response in words, but lifted her head for a searing kiss, hitched herself higher and around him, asprawl and content, breathing hard, setting her mouth against his throat for a happy humming sound of wordless pleasure.
His arms tightened around her. Oh, it was good, so very good, to have her back home.
-- PB
"Oh, shut up," she smirked. "You'd rather I stayed away for a couple more weeks?"
He snorted. "As if. It was bad enough living without you for six months."
"How bad, exactly?" she inquired dulcetly.
He gave her a very direct look. "I haven't left the house. I don't have any energy, any appetite -- for anything. I haven't slept for more than two hours since dropping you off at the airport. Vicky, don't you fucking know that you're got your claws sunk deep in me?"
She smiled. "Yes, but it's always nice to hear it. Ohhh, don't look so annoyed. C'mere. Kiss me. Show me how much you've missed me."
A trail of tangled clothes told the tale of their hasty rush towards reunion; a broken newel post on the bannister spoke of the brief but intense interlude on the stairway, when she grabbed on for support as he plunged deep, driving her hard and fast against the railing. The screaming had barely stopped from the first time before she was coaxing him back into life, straddling him in the hallway and wrapping her legs around his ass. He managed to lift and drop her onto his thick branch as he staggered into the bedroom, swaying in reverse to fall backwards onto the bed with her pressing him down. And she moaned, and he thrust, and she bounced on him with increasing fervor, and he shouted her name, and spasmed within, feeling her draw him out to his utmost.
"Missed you so," he murmured, hearing the thunder of his heartbeat slow. She gave no response in words, but lifted her head for a searing kiss, hitched herself higher and around him, asprawl and content, breathing hard, setting her mouth against his throat for a happy humming sound of wordless pleasure.
His arms tightened around her. Oh, it was good, so very good, to have her back home.
-- PB
Monday, May 17, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 5-21-10
(Source image: Wildes Wasser by Ben Marcato; all site links I have found are broken.)
Your challenge for this Friday, 5-21-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 52-72 words. As usual, nobody's checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.
As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)
Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.
Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way.
-- PB
Sunday, May 16, 2010
Group Post: "The Worst Time"
He hung his coat up in the closet and then turned to her. "So, what did you think?" he inquired.
"Honestly? I'm sorry, but I had just the worst time, hon," she said.
He raised his eyebrows. "So? That's a shame. Marriner's eighty-six years old now and he's retired from conducting except for special occasions. I thought you'd appreciate seeing him on this little mini-tour."
She shook her head. "Not what I meant."
He looked puzzled. "What, then?"
She stepped close and put her arms round his neck. "It wasn't the performance that made me so miserable," she breathed, nuzzling his neck. "Indeed, I've rarely heard the 'Jupiter' Symphony so well-handled." She nipped lightly at his earlobe. "It wasn't the opening piece, either." Her fingers began working busily at the fastening on his cummerbund. "I might have questioned a pairing like that" -- she planted a trail of kisses along the hollow of his throat, and he sighed softly -- "but Perlman is a master, and he made the Caprices catch fire. Paganini would've approved." She slid one hand lower and cupped his ass. "No, my dear, you chose well for our evening's entertainment." She slid her other hand around his front and traced the outline of his swelling cock through his trousers. "It was a truly lovely performance."
He gulped as her fingers stroked and caressed him. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead. "Then why did you say you had the worst time?"
"Because," she breathed, caressing his chest and working at the buttons on his shirt, "you look so damnably hot in a tuxedo that I can never keep my mind on the performance." She took his hand in hers and slid it up her thigh, her cocktail dress bunching and rippling as it slid higher. "I've been sitting in a goddamned puddle all night. Every time I tried concentrating on the music, I'd look at you sitting there next to me and just go drifting off again. You fucker, all I wanted after five minutes was to climb on you right then and there. And you kept me there, in prison, right on the edge, for another hour and a half!"
"Hm. Then I'd better not keep you waiting any longer," he said. His hand found the proof under her dress: sodden panties, dripping with her need. He was glad she favored flimsy undergarments; it made it much easier for him to tear them with a sharp grasping rip. She gasped in shock and then her lips curved into a delicious grin. "Oh my," she said teasingly. "Did I share too much?"
"Woman," he grunted, already feeling himself devolve to Neanderthal level, "even hinting that you're getting horny is sharing too much. Don't you know by now how you affect me?" His fingers tore at the zipper on the back of her dress; his unsteadiness betrayed him and the zipper jammed. He snarled in frustration and his hands went to the front of her dress instead. "Shame to ruin this," he muttered, and flexed. The fabric parted with a low purring sound, echoing the noise she was making; her breasts spilled out, already flushed with her excitement, rosy nipples upswept with delight. Her own hands were busy unsnapping his trousers and pulling the zipper down. His cock sprang out as his trousers fell down around his ankles. She had time for three brief hand strokes before he bore her back against the wall. Raising a leg, she hooked it round his ass, adjusting and flexing as he drove upward, forward, into her. He bottomed out in her almost immediately, and both of them gasped in delight.
"We always -- unh! -- do make -- oh god yes, right there -- beautiful music together," she moaned. He was long past speech, but signified his own agreement by growling low in his throat as he started pounding into her.
(The Group Post is organized by Kimberly, the Errant Wife. Thanks as always to her for hosting; go see Kimberly to see who else is playing this month.)
-- PB
"Honestly? I'm sorry, but I had just the worst time, hon," she said.
He raised his eyebrows. "So? That's a shame. Marriner's eighty-six years old now and he's retired from conducting except for special occasions. I thought you'd appreciate seeing him on this little mini-tour."
She shook her head. "Not what I meant."
He looked puzzled. "What, then?"
She stepped close and put her arms round his neck. "It wasn't the performance that made me so miserable," she breathed, nuzzling his neck. "Indeed, I've rarely heard the 'Jupiter' Symphony so well-handled." She nipped lightly at his earlobe. "It wasn't the opening piece, either." Her fingers began working busily at the fastening on his cummerbund. "I might have questioned a pairing like that" -- she planted a trail of kisses along the hollow of his throat, and he sighed softly -- "but Perlman is a master, and he made the Caprices catch fire. Paganini would've approved." She slid one hand lower and cupped his ass. "No, my dear, you chose well for our evening's entertainment." She slid her other hand around his front and traced the outline of his swelling cock through his trousers. "It was a truly lovely performance."
He gulped as her fingers stroked and caressed him. Beads of sweat were starting to form on his forehead. "Then why did you say you had the worst time?"
"Because," she breathed, caressing his chest and working at the buttons on his shirt, "you look so damnably hot in a tuxedo that I can never keep my mind on the performance." She took his hand in hers and slid it up her thigh, her cocktail dress bunching and rippling as it slid higher. "I've been sitting in a goddamned puddle all night. Every time I tried concentrating on the music, I'd look at you sitting there next to me and just go drifting off again. You fucker, all I wanted after five minutes was to climb on you right then and there. And you kept me there, in prison, right on the edge, for another hour and a half!"
"Hm. Then I'd better not keep you waiting any longer," he said. His hand found the proof under her dress: sodden panties, dripping with her need. He was glad she favored flimsy undergarments; it made it much easier for him to tear them with a sharp grasping rip. She gasped in shock and then her lips curved into a delicious grin. "Oh my," she said teasingly. "Did I share too much?"
"Woman," he grunted, already feeling himself devolve to Neanderthal level, "even hinting that you're getting horny is sharing too much. Don't you know by now how you affect me?" His fingers tore at the zipper on the back of her dress; his unsteadiness betrayed him and the zipper jammed. He snarled in frustration and his hands went to the front of her dress instead. "Shame to ruin this," he muttered, and flexed. The fabric parted with a low purring sound, echoing the noise she was making; her breasts spilled out, already flushed with her excitement, rosy nipples upswept with delight. Her own hands were busy unsnapping his trousers and pulling the zipper down. His cock sprang out as his trousers fell down around his ankles. She had time for three brief hand strokes before he bore her back against the wall. Raising a leg, she hooked it round his ass, adjusting and flexing as he drove upward, forward, into her. He bottomed out in her almost immediately, and both of them gasped in delight.
"We always -- unh! -- do make -- oh god yes, right there -- beautiful music together," she moaned. He was long past speech, but signified his own agreement by growling low in his throat as he started pounding into her.
(The Group Post is organized by Kimberly, the Errant Wife. Thanks as always to her for hosting; go see Kimberly to see who else is playing this month.)
-- PB
Friday, May 14, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday 5-14-10: "The Naked Detective"
This summary is not available. Please
click here to view the post.
Wednesday, May 12, 2010
"I'd like to thank the Academy......."
So it seems both Soren Ambrose and Spring Flower almost simultaneously decided I was worthy of recognition, and have both awarded me this:
I won't say I'm speechless -- it takes a hell of a lot to shock me THAT much -- but I will say that I'm astonished and delighted. Especially during a time when I've been so damned busy that I can really only manage the FFF challenge entry and FFF post on Friday. They both said some lovely things about me and I'm glad my stuff here is inspiring.
Now, then, this award evidently comes with a few short strings attached:
-- Post the award on my journal somewhere. Okay, done that much.
-- Post a video of yourself playing your favorite instrument, a picture of a pet or a long post about your favorite book. Well, I've no pets, and I don't play any instruments (wait, does the skin flute count?) so those are out. Look for an entry on one of my favorite books soon.
-- Choose some more people you think deserve the award!
Okay. Damn near everyone on my watchlist deserves the award, and in the past I've even written mini-reviews for several of them. The two who awarded ME, in fact, would be worth listing here if it weren't for the fact that they've already been awarded themselves. Here are three I haven't mentioned yet:
Scarlett, over at Ms. Scarlett's Letters: Scarlett is the very definition of a hot soccer mom, even if she doesn't have any kids. (Go look if you don't believe me; she's posted several hot HNT photos of her and a soccer ball.) Scarlett is not only beautiful and sensual, though, she's also strong-willed, tempestuous and full of a zest for life no matter what it throws in her path. I admire her greatly, though she probably has no idea.
Kimberly, over at Your Errant Wife: Kimberly organizes and hosts a monthly Group Post which I've contributed to several times. More than that, though, she has a talent for turning a phrase and is very good at getting your attention with the hot tales she posts. Her husband must have his hands full with her. Lucky bastard. :)
And, last but not least, the aptly-named Curvaceous Dee. Dee is one of the most universally friendly people I've met in just about any online situation. I don't think I've ever seen her have a single bad word to say about anyone. Her self-descriptor sums her up better than I ever could: "Curvaceous, vivacious, tenacious, bodacious. That's me! I'm also fat, poly, pansexual, civilly unioned, kinky, kiwi, and happy."
Go check these fine people out! And thanks, Soren and Spring Flower, for thinking so highly of me.
-- PB
I won't say I'm speechless -- it takes a hell of a lot to shock me THAT much -- but I will say that I'm astonished and delighted. Especially during a time when I've been so damned busy that I can really only manage the FFF challenge entry and FFF post on Friday. They both said some lovely things about me and I'm glad my stuff here is inspiring.
Now, then, this award evidently comes with a few short strings attached:
-- Post the award on my journal somewhere. Okay, done that much.
-- Post a video of yourself playing your favorite instrument, a picture of a pet or a long post about your favorite book. Well, I've no pets, and I don't play any instruments (wait, does the skin flute count?) so those are out. Look for an entry on one of my favorite books soon.
-- Choose some more people you think deserve the award!
Okay. Damn near everyone on my watchlist deserves the award, and in the past I've even written mini-reviews for several of them. The two who awarded ME, in fact, would be worth listing here if it weren't for the fact that they've already been awarded themselves. Here are three I haven't mentioned yet:
Scarlett, over at Ms. Scarlett's Letters: Scarlett is the very definition of a hot soccer mom, even if she doesn't have any kids. (Go look if you don't believe me; she's posted several hot HNT photos of her and a soccer ball.) Scarlett is not only beautiful and sensual, though, she's also strong-willed, tempestuous and full of a zest for life no matter what it throws in her path. I admire her greatly, though she probably has no idea.
Kimberly, over at Your Errant Wife: Kimberly organizes and hosts a monthly Group Post which I've contributed to several times. More than that, though, she has a talent for turning a phrase and is very good at getting your attention with the hot tales she posts. Her husband must have his hands full with her. Lucky bastard. :)
And, last but not least, the aptly-named Curvaceous Dee. Dee is one of the most universally friendly people I've met in just about any online situation. I don't think I've ever seen her have a single bad word to say about anyone. Her self-descriptor sums her up better than I ever could: "Curvaceous, vivacious, tenacious, bodacious. That's me! I'm also fat, poly, pansexual, civilly unioned, kinky, kiwi, and happy."
Go check these fine people out! And thanks, Soren and Spring Flower, for thinking so highly of me.
-- PB
Monday, May 10, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday Challenge for 5-14-10
Your challenge for this Friday, 5-14-10, is to use the photo above to write a flash fiction of 60-120 words. As usual, nobody's checking word counts, but you only cheat yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're breaking them to earn a spanking....in which case, see me after class.
As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here. If you don't let me know you're playing, you might get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)
Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants.
Check back here on Friday for my take on the challenge and the list of participants, and then again on Monday for the next FFF challenge! And as always, if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see used in an upcoming week, send them my way.
-- PB
Friday, May 7, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday 5-7-10: "A Hot Breakfast"
The scent of breakfast was in the air. Pancakes, bacon, eggs. Mmmm, delicious. She froze as she rounded the corner of the kitchen.
He grinned innocently. “Morning. Care for some breakfast?”
Her mouth watered. “Oh, yes. I see you were kind enough to prepare me a nice big sausage.”
He glanced down, then back up. “Well, I know how you do love savoring that sausage in your mouth.”
“Indeed,” she agreed, and tied a napkin around her neck, fastidiously.
Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 63-83 words. Nobody's checking word counts, but you're only cheating yourself if you break the rules. Unless you're doing it to earn a spanking (in which case, see me after class).
The following people are participating this week. Why not go check out their take on this FFF?
Netsfan44: http://netsfan44eroticstories.
Soren: http://amorousdays.blogspot.com
Lila: http://que-sinverguenza.blogspot.com
Spring Flower: http://agirlsgottahaveoptions.blogspot.com
Jonsbabydoll: http://thebloggingslave.com
Gray: http://mygrayline.blogspot.com
Curvaceous Dee: http://curvaceousdee.com
Nilla: http://vanillamom.wordpress.com
Snow: http://snow9.wordpress.com
Sephani Paige: http://sephanipaige.wordpress.com
Katia: http://katiaswritings.blogspot.com
Max: http://mystic-satyr.blogspot.com
Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you'd like to see a particular photo or artwork used for a future challenge, send it my way.
-- PB
Monday, May 3, 2010
Flash Fiction Friday Challenge 5-7-10
As always, if you're planning on joining in the fun, please email me (insatiabear (AT) gmail [DOT] com) or leave a comment here by Thursday night. I will not be making the rounds as usual this Friday morning, so if you don't let me know you're playing, you'll probably get left off the list of participants when I post it on Friday. And nobody wants that. :)
Here's a button for you if you want to include that in your post. Use it to link back to the challenge post, if you like, or link to the Flash Fiction Friday FAQ if you'd rather do that....or, if you participate late in the day, you can even link it to my Friday story post with the list of participants
The usual reminders: if you have a photo or piece of art you'd like to see used in a future challenge, send it my way. The list of participants will be posted this Friday morning with my take on this pic. Then check back on Monday for the next FFF challenge!
-- PB
Saturday, May 1, 2010
First of May
Today is the first of May. And you all know what that means.
If you don't, let Jonathan Coulton enlighten you.
I woke up this morning
I had a scone and a large house blend
And then a little conversation with my squirrel and chipmunk friends
I said I’m sick and tired of winter
And I wish that it was spring
And then a little fellow named Robin Redbreast
Began to sing
And he sang
Ooh ooh child, what’d you think the cold winter’s gonna last forever?
Ooh ooh child, now’s the time for all the people to get together
Outside
Cause it’s the first of May, first of May
Outdoor fucking starts today
So bring your favorite lady
Or at least your favorite lay
The water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe
Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto
Grass below you, sky above
Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
I thanked him for the information
I cried a little when he flew away
I watched an episode of The People’s Court
And I tried to plan my day
I called up my old lady
She wasn’t home so I called my girl
I asked her if she’d like to join me as I
Entertain the world
And I said
Ooh ooh child, I’ll bring a blanket and I promise I will brush the ants off
Ooh ooh child, you’re gonna like it when we’re taking each other’s pants off
Outside
Cause it’s the first of May, first of May
Outdoor fucking starts today
So bring your favorite lady
Or at least your favorite lay
The water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe
Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto
Grass below you, sky above
Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
So we went to the park together
We were walking in the midday sun
We met all kinds of people and we
We fucked everyone
We fucked a lady who sells ice cream
We fucked a man with a tan Shar Pei
Everyone who needed fucking well they
They got fucked today
So come on
Ooh ooh child, open your mind and your heart, feel the spirit moving through you
Ooh ooh child, you’ll feel the warmth of the love when I stick it to you
Outside
Cause it’s the first of May, first of May
Outdoor fucking starts today
So bring your favorite lady
Or at least your favorite lay
The water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe
Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto
Grass below you, sky above
Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
Enjoy your First of May, all.
-- PB
If you don't, let Jonathan Coulton enlighten you.
I woke up this morning
I had a scone and a large house blend
And then a little conversation with my squirrel and chipmunk friends
I said I’m sick and tired of winter
And I wish that it was spring
And then a little fellow named Robin Redbreast
Began to sing
And he sang
Ooh ooh child, what’d you think the cold winter’s gonna last forever?
Ooh ooh child, now’s the time for all the people to get together
Outside
Cause it’s the first of May, first of May
Outdoor fucking starts today
So bring your favorite lady
Or at least your favorite lay
The water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe
Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto
Grass below you, sky above
Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
I thanked him for the information
I cried a little when he flew away
I watched an episode of The People’s Court
And I tried to plan my day
I called up my old lady
She wasn’t home so I called my girl
I asked her if she’d like to join me as I
Entertain the world
And I said
Ooh ooh child, I’ll bring a blanket and I promise I will brush the ants off
Ooh ooh child, you’re gonna like it when we’re taking each other’s pants off
Outside
Cause it’s the first of May, first of May
Outdoor fucking starts today
So bring your favorite lady
Or at least your favorite lay
The water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe
Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto
Grass below you, sky above
Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
So we went to the park together
We were walking in the midday sun
We met all kinds of people and we
We fucked everyone
We fucked a lady who sells ice cream
We fucked a man with a tan Shar Pei
Everyone who needed fucking well they
They got fucked today
So come on
Ooh ooh child, open your mind and your heart, feel the spirit moving through you
Ooh ooh child, you’ll feel the warmth of the love when I stick it to you
Outside
Cause it’s the first of May, first of May
Outdoor fucking starts today
So bring your favorite lady
Or at least your favorite lay
The water’s not cold baby dip in your big toe
Maybe I’ll see you in flagrante delicto
Grass below you, sky above
Celebrate spring with a crazy little thing called fucking outside
Enjoy your First of May, all.
-- PB
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Posts
