Flash Fiction Friday 7-1-11: "Memento Mori"

(Source image: title unknown, photo by Samantha Wolov)

The candles burned low. The musk of our exertions hung heavy in the air. She lay adrift and asprawl, tangled under and over me, her head pillowed on my chest. I felt the heat, the moisture of her tears, the rhythm of her shaking shoulders as she wept.

"It isn't fair," she sobbed.

There wasn't enough air in the room, no words that would come, no answer to the unanswerable. The lump of ice in my throat was absolute. Instead, I tightened my arms around her, and she raised her head. Her lip trembled, her eyes were huge and dark, but she leaned close and our mouths met, bruised and tender, desperate and lost.

Eternity in slow sweet increments. She poised herself above me, hands on the wall, hips moving in slow ellipsis. Her breasts swayed, her hair swung forward, her breath came sharp and fast. I wanted, needed, to reach out to her, to reach for her, but it was too late for that. Instead I grabbed fistfuls of sheets, denying the ache I felt. Even as we fell together, fell upward toward completion, I ached, my heart, my straining muscles, my rigidity so sweetly enclasped. Ached, knowing it would fade. Ached, knowing there was no happily ever after, not for us. Never for us.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 150-220 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...fistfuls of [[noun]]..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, 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).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

I really have no idea where this came from. When I first saw this picture it was so clear -- a beautiful romantic moment in time, one of those eternities where time slows to a crawl. Endless waves of pleasure, drifting along, borne on a tide of mingled emotion and lust. I've had moments like that, some even in hotel rooms like this, and I relived some of them as I looked at the picture. I smiled, remembering. My fingers tapped at the keys, measuring, discarding, and when I started, that was exactly what I intended. To relive those happy moments, to capture some of that in a reworking.

And then it went wrong, somehow. Sometimes the best of intentions mean nothing, when the story weaves itself the way it chooses. Despite what I'd wanted originally, I watched from the outside as something very different emerged. I found myself waxing lyrical, turning a lighthearted romp into something more akin to a Tennyson poem. Not that I have the heartstring-yanking capabilities of Tennyson, but his is a style worth emulating, at least.

I didn't know what had happened with these two, whether life had forced them apart or whether their relationship had disintegrated. I just knew that it was all over. The title may give you some idea of my ultimate decision. You can come up with your own reasons, if it comforts you. For my part, I'm content to leave them behind and let them hold on to the time they have left.

Please note that I am no longer collecting the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below using the widget. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries. Your cooperation is appreciated.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.



Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see in a future challenge, please send them my way. 

-- PB

The Monogamous Privilege Checklist

I was browsing around a bit today and stumbled upon the checklist below, originally found here. I offer it below without additional comment except to say that it has made me think quite a bit about how much monogamous people take for granted.

Monogamous Privilege Checklist, by Cory Davis
By admin, on April 5th, 2011
For the purposes of this list, I will refer to one’s position on the diagram of monogamy vs. various types of non-monogamy (polyamory, open marriage, swinging, religious polygyny, etc.) as simply “relationship orientation”.

Note that for the purposes of this list, “relationship orientation” does NOT refer to one’s sexual orientation re: the Kinsey scale (heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, pansexual, etc.). Monogamous individuals who are LGBTQ and/or in interracial and/or intergenerational romantic relationships may well be exempt from some (though not all) of these privileges, especially those marked with an asterisk at the end.
Monogamous Privilege Checklist:

1) I can legally marry whomever I wish, with all the legal, medical, and financial benefits of marriage universally recognized for me and my family no matter where I live.*

2) I am not accused of being abused, warped, immoral, unethical, or psychologically confused because of my relationship orientation.

3) No one ever questions the validity of my love because of my relationship orientation.

4) It is not assumed based on my relationship orientation that I or any of my former or current partners has been misled, coerced, manipulated, or used in any way.

5) No one argues that my relationship orientation is impractical, unstable, incompatible with commitment, or otherwise effectively impossible to realize. No one argues that my relationship orientation works better in theory than in practice.

6) It is not assumed that my life must be overly-complicated because of my relationship orientation.

7) No one tries to convert me to their relationship orientation.

8 It is not assumed that I will switch relationship orientations as soon as I find the “right” person.

9) It is not generally understood that I am unfit to raise children because of my relationship orientation.

10) I can feel certain that my government will not suddenly remove my children to a foster home based on my relationship orientation.

11) As a responsible and loving parent, I won’t lose my children in a custody battle because of my relationship orientation.

12) As a responsible and loving adult, I can adopt children without lying about my relationship orientation.

13) I can be certain that my children won’t be harassed because of my relationship orientation.

14) My children are given texts and information at school that validates my family structure – two parents with kids, two sets of grandparents, etc.

15) It is not assumed based on my relationship orientation that my children are/were raised in an unstable environment.

16) No one assumes or speculates based on my relationship orientation that my children experience or ever will experience emotional, psychological, social, or behavioral problems.

17) I do not have to explain my relationship orientation to strangers whenever it comes up.

18) People don’t ask why I made my choice of relationship orientation.

19) People don’t ask why I made my choice to be public about my relationship orientation.

20) I don’t have to defend my relationship orientation.

21) I am not identified, categorized or grouped by my relationship orientation.

22) I am never asked to speak for everyone who shares my relationship orientation.

23) My individual behavior is not thought to reflect on all persons who identify with my relationship orientation.

24) If a romantic relationship of mine ends, no one blames my relationship orientation.

25) I can be sure that all of my roommates, classmates, and coworkers will be comfortable with my relationship orientation.

26) When I talk about my monogamy (such as in a joke or talking about my relationships), I am never accused of pushing my relationship orientation onto others.

27) I do not have to fear revealing my relationship orientation to friends or family. It’s assumed.

28) I do not have to fear that if my family, friends, or professional community find out about my relationship orientation there will be economic, emotional, physical, or psychological consequences for me or for others.

29) I can run for political office without expecting that my relationship orientation will disqualify me.

30) I can depart from most meetings, classes, and conversations without feeling fearful, excluded, isolated, attacked, outnumbered, unheard, held at a distance, stereotyped or feared because of my relationship orientation.

31) I can date whomever I wish, regardless of whether or not they previously identified with my relationship orientation, without fear that my new partner will be shunned by their friends and family due to their choice to embark upon a relationship with someone of my relationship orientation.

32) I am guaranteed to find people of my relationship orientation represented in my workplace.

33) I can be sure that my classes/courses/training will require curricular materials that testify to the existence of people with my relationship orientation.

34) I can easily find a religious community that will not exclude me based on my relationship orientation.

35) I am guaranteed to find sex education literature for people with my relationship orientation.

36) I can count on finding a therapist or doctor who will recognize my relationship orientation as valid, should I seek their services.

37) I can be sure that if I need legal or medical help my relationship orientation will not work against me.
38) Public hand-holding with my love is seen as acceptable and endearing. I can walk in public with my partner and not have people stare or do a double-take.*

39) I can choose not to think politically about my relationship orientation.

40) I can remain oblivious to the language and culture of other relationship orientations (i.e. polyamory, swinging, etc.) without paying any penalty for such obliviousness.

41) Even if I am oblivious about other relationship orientations, my culture affords me the privilege of judging those orientations and being an authoritative source of relationship advice because I am monogamous. This is especially true if I am a therapist, researcher, media darling, or other authority figure.

42) In everyday conversation, the language my friends and I use generally assumes my relationship orientation. For example, “family” meaning monogamous relationships with children.

43) Nobody calls me monogamous with malice.

44) I am not asked to think about why I am monogamous.

45) Society encourages me to marry and celebrates my commitment.*

46) My relationship orientation is commonly represented in music, television, movies, books, magazines, greeting cards, and postcards.

47) Major, mainstream social networking websites such as Facebook allow me to set my relationship status according to my relationship orientation.

48) I can go to relationship and dating events (i.e. singles events, relationship skills workshops) secure in the knowledge that my relationship orientation will be the standard and will be catered to.

49) I never need to change pronouns when describing the events of my life in order to protect my job, my family, or my friendships.*

50) If I’m a teenager, I can enjoy dating, first loves, and all the social approval of learning to love appropriately within my relationship orientation.*

51) If I’m called to work with children or to serve God (in most denominations), I don’t have to lie about my relationship orientation in order to keep my job.

52) I can count on my community of friends, acquaintances, strangers, and various institutions to celebrate my love and my family, mourn my losses, and support my relationships.*

53) It is not assumed merely because of my relationship orientation that I am experienced in sex (or that I even have it at all!).

54) It is not assumed that I am inclined toward my relationship orientation purely for sexual reasons.

55) It is not assumed based on my relationship orientation that I am more likely than average to have STIs.

56) It is not assumed based on my relationship orientation that I am unaware of the risks posed by my sexual behavior.

57) I am not assumed based on my relationship orientation to be sexually indiscriminate.

58) I do not have to deal with the language and culture of my relationship orientation being co-opted, redefined, and demonized by an unfriendly majority which controls the media.

59) No one ever calls my relationship orientation “creepy” or “disturbing”.

60) I can befriend people without them and/or their romantic partners assuming that I am trying to convert them to my relationship orientation.

61) No one takes issue with their children being around me based on my relationship orientation.

62) I can be fairly certain that anyone who is in a committed, romantic relationship with me will also be invited to most parties, weddings, and other social events to which I am invited.*

63) No one makes assumptions about my political views or religious beliefs based on my relationship orientation.

64) No one refers to my relationship orientation by the wrong term or label, either intentionally or inadvertently.

65) I do not have to coin or invent terms to describe my relationship orientation and familial connections to others, because the language describing my relationship orientation already exists and is known throughout the culture.

66) No one ever ridicules or makes jokes about the terminology that people with my relationship orientation commonly use to describe their relationship structures and familial connections.

– Cory Davis

Flash Fiction Friday 3-18-11: "Broken, Beaten, Scarred"

(Source image: "I Am So Hidden" by China Hamilton)

The tile was cool and smooth against her bare feet. Her eyes were hopeless, lost, through the eyelets of the mask. Her breasts heaved with suppressed emotions, her whole body shivering as if in a high wind.

The door swung wide and he entered. She twisted to face him, arms crossed protectively before her. Shock skirled across his face and was gone in an instant.

"My God," he whispered. "What have they done to you, my darling?"

Trembling, she reached up and removed the mask.

And he smiled, the sun bursting through clouds. "Is that all?" he murmured, reaching up to caress her scarred visage. “You had me worried there for a minute.”

And he kissed her passionately, hands moving over her body, and she responded ardently, though the tears still trickled down the ruins of her face.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 85-135 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...cool and smooth..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, 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).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

This picture fascinated me. At first I had planned a sort of Phantom of the Opera tie-in, with the Phantom taking a lover from among the dancers and musicians of the Opera House, but with a twist -- that he would require her to hide her own face while they made love. I decided against that one because it seemed there'd be very little intimacy with the faces of the participants hidden, but it's still given me ideas for some semi-anonymous fantasies that may yet see life here (I understand that semi-anonymity can be a powerful turn-on, at least in some of the stories I've read). We'll see.

In any case, the approach I wound up going with actually came over me when I happened to see a woman on TV whose husband had left her after a horrific burn accident left her scarred. I'm one of those old-fashioned people who thinks that love does conquer all, so I promptly wrote this sort of fairy-tale approach (fairy tales AGAIN; I really do need to stop that) where our heroine had been the victim of horrible torture that left her face scarred but her body intact. Naturally, she is terrified that her lover won't want her anymore. Most men, I think, would look only at the body and still be titillated, but would they react well if and when she removed the mask? Our heroine's lover isn't at all fazed by it, but (as seen by the TV show I watched) real life is not always so forgiving.

So, after last week's lighthearted take I go right back to the introspective darker stuff. What's my mind coming to? I don't know. Let's see what you all come up with.

Please note that for the past few weeks I have been trying something different with the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.



Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see in a future challenge, please send them my way. 

-- PB

Flash Fiction Friday 2-11-11: "Know Thyself"

(Source image: "Searching Narciso" by Martin Toyé)

Stretch, flex, lift, relax. Curve of hip, sheen of sweat, arch of deltoid. Working out in front of the mirror was the best motivator he'd ever had. Its glass eye showed every flaw, every ounce of fat, every wasted movement. It drove him ever onward along the road to physical perfection.

Always he fell short, though. What he saw in the silvered glass was always a pale reflection of his mind's eye image. Something...something was missing.

Frustrated, he stretched out a hand toward his mirror image, resting it on the glass. And jumped in shock as his palm met warm, yielding flesh.

His heart raced...and his cock twitched. He saw his double's do the same, and smiled a slow smile.

Time to really work out.

(Click for details on FFF!)

Your challenge for today was to use the picture above and write a flash fiction of 107-127 words. Additionally, I provided a key phrase I wanted to see used somewhere in the submission:

"...a pale reflection..."

Nobody's checking word counts, or for the key phrase, 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).

Special Bonus Director's Commentary Track:

I seem to have a relentless urge to turn these into fantasy-themed works. Mythology, fairy tales, elementals, magic and mystery...yeah, I do telegraph my love of fantastic fiction JUST a little bit. I can't help it.

The title of the photo may have been "Searching Narciso" but I didn't get the sense that the subject was idolizing himself. Rather, it seemed to me that he was working out in front of a mirror because (like a camera) a mirror is very good at forcing all of your flaws into the open, do what you will to try and hide them. What better way to keep yourself on the straight and narrow, to keep the workout intensity up? When every little jiggle of fat is magnified by that reflection, you want even more to get rid of it.

Then I looked at the way he was caressing the thigh of the reflection. It looked like fascination to me. I imagine most of us would be pretty fascinated if our reflection suddenly stood before us in the flesh, too. Maybe you'd be horrified. Maybe you'd be freaked out. Or maybe, like the fellow in this tale, you'd be turned on. Maybe he's a little bi-curious and he wants to experiment a bit with somebody who knows his pleasures better than anyone else.

Regardless, wouldn't that be a great workout? Burning calories was never so much fun.

Please note that this week (as with last week) I am trying something different with the participants list. If you are playing along this week, please leave your link below. It will appear in the text of the post itself, not in the comments, so everyone that's playing will be listed here. This frees me from having to chase people down to find out if they're playing or update the Friday post several times for late entries. We'll see how this works out.

In any case, the participants list is below. Go check them out, and thanks to all who played along.

[[NOTE: Due to a screwup in the automatic posting, this didn't post until past 8 AM this morning. That isn't what I intended so I'm going ahead and adding links below for those I know are playing. If you're not on the list, go ahead and add yourself.]]



Check back here on Monday for the next challenge! And if you have any photos or artwork you'd like to see in a future challenge, please send them my way. 

-- PB

Microfantasy Monday: "Connecting Amidst Chaos"

And so again, bodies once more entwined in tangled sheets as the hands of the clock spin and spiral inward, into blackness, raindrops sliding down the windowpanes in liquid counterpoint to the liquid struggle on the bed. A struggle towards -- what? To break through into the great blind and bursting nova, that golden moment when sun and stars explode through your body, your silver cord tautening and drawing out, drawing tight, tightening the knot you've formed with your partner, that knot that may stretch and tangle but never, ever breaks? To meld flesh with flesh, breath with breath, liquid centers merging, tightening, pounding hearts in rhythm, each heartbeat incomplete without the other?

In an entire lifetime of loves, how many times can it be like that, all soft and enfolding, salt-sweat and tang of tears, cradled close in all-encompassing darkness, all whispers and sighs and endearments, the connection so intense that it sears with the intensity of a nuclear strike. Summer lightning, brilliant and blue-white, transient and gone; its crackle and flash is nothing beside the intensity of this moment, this gaze, this creature with two backs and eight limbs, one pulse, one thought, one love.

It builds and it builds, that pleasure, waves crashing, thunder rolling, sonorous bass vibrating bones, tingling heat washing through nerves from end to end. Softly moaned endearments mingle with the cries of ecstasy, fingers clasping and unclasping, backs arching, bodies filled with wind and flame, a conflagration that builds rather than destroys. With every stroke they tighten their grasp; with every movement the music of their symphony builds to new heights; with every word the inadequacy of words is made more apparent. What they have is beyond boundaries, too great to be noted, too ephemeral for the cosmos to care, but as intense and unchanging and eternal as change itself.

Drifting and drowsing, slumbrous and spent, they lie in their blissful golden afterglow, the chaos of their world spiraling into a whirlpool, dwindling and gone. The world spins beneath them unfelt, unnoticed. Here there is only quiet, and warmth, and closeness, and a short exchange that has never meant more than it does now.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

(Microfantasy Monday is the brainchild of Ang, the Sweltering Celt. This week's theme was "Spiritual Connection". Go see Ang to find out who else is playing.)

-- PB

Happy New Year

He stood on the balcony, the cold air swirling lazily about him. Cars honked faintly from the street far below, lights twinkling in the distance as if winking at him in invitation on this most festive of nights. He sipped slowly. Bubbles tickled his nose, and he almost sneezed. Remembering....

"Achoo!" she sneezed. "Dammit, I don't think I'm ever going to like champagne very much."

He smiled, sipping slowly from his own wineglass. "That's all right, it's only a once-a-year thing for us anyway."

She grinned back, and very deliberately poured her glass all over her chest; her dress, already clinging like a second skin, went transparent immediately and outlined her pointy nipples and the curves of her breasts quite nicely. His breath caught at the sight.

"Very true," she purred. "But I still don't like champagne. Maybe you'll drink up what I seem to have spilled here." She reached for him hungrily.

He shook his head, emerging from reverie. Wind skirled around the corner of the building and bit hard at his face, blowing around his legs next and making his wool overcoat flap. He pulled it more tightly around him, then frowned. Remembering....

"For you, my dearest," she said, holding out a largish box. He frowned in surprise, and his brow furrowed as he opened the box to reveal a gorgeous charcoal-grey wool overcoat.

".....the hell?" he queried, clearly puzzled. "Since when do we give gifts on New Year's Eve?"

"Not for New Year's, you insensitive clod," she scolded, the sweet smile on her face taking any sting from her words. "Our anniversary. Remember?"

"Oh, that's right," he mused. "God, it's been a year already since we first met?"

"Are you saying you haven't enjoyed it?" she smirked, coming closer and tilting her head up.

"Now I'd be a fool indeed, to say something like that," he breathed, and bent to kiss her. She tasted like strawberries and cream, and her intoxicating scent, indefinable as always, filled his head till it spun round like a top. How sweet, he thought hazily as she growled happily into his mouth and pressed ardently against him. How sweet she is....

Again he shook his head, harder this time, bringing himself forward once more to the present. A lick of cold startled him: a snowflake, landing on his nose. He looked up and saw it was beginning to fall in earnest, creeping up stealthily amidst the silence that surrounded him. No tunes or party from the dark and empty apartment at his back. No voices cutting through the stillness. No sound of breathing from his side. No warmth of presence from a delicate hand held tightly in his.

Such a contrast. He drifted again, remembering the chaos and noise from that one year. Remembering..... 

"How many of these people did you say you know?" he shouted into her ear. "I thought you said this was going to be a small party!"

She speared another small bite of the cake on the plate she was holding and chomped delicately. "As far as Rick's concerned, this is a small party, hon," she rejoined after a moment's chewing. A bit of white frosting clung to the corner of her mouth; she wiped it off quickly and licked it off her fingers, as unselfconscious as a dog. "What's the matter? Too much light and chaos? C'mon, let's find somewhere more quiet."

She took him by the hand and led him up the stairs, the crowd reluctantly parting for them, then closing thickly in their wake, like Jello. The din was considerably lessened when she led him into the guest bedroom and cut off entirely when she drew him into the bathroom beyond that, closing the door behind them.

"Hon, what.....?" he started, but was silenced by her finger on his lips. She locked the door, put her cake down on the counter, and then began unbuttoning his slacks, darting a swift hand inside and sliding it deliciously up and down, creating lovely heat and friction against his very surprised, but very pleased dick. As was usual for her, she had him hard and throbbing in a twinkling.

Her first task accomplished with dispatch, she grinned at him and drew his cock free from his briefs. Her eyes locked with his and she sank slowly, oh so slowly, to her knees. Keeping her eyes on him, she opened her mouth and began licking him from tip to base. He moaned as her tongue decorated him, swirling about, wrapping about his shaft as if it had a life of its own, wet slurping sounds echoing off the tile, saliva glistening in the fluorescent light.

She pulled back for a quarter second and grinned that devil-may-care grin at him once more, then took his cock in both her tiny hands and began to pump him slowly. He was already breathing hard but seconds of this delicious torture soon had him panting like he'd just run a marathon, sagging against the sink, hands clutching helplessly at the air. God, she was such a minx. And if he knew her at all, this wouldn't be enough for her, she'd have to....yes, there she went, engulfing him with her eagerly sucking mouth, lips and tongue working, moaning in her throat, blowing him so deliriously and sloppily that strings of ropy spit were streaming from his dripping cock, breaking free to pool on the tile below. Lightning danced in his brain and he groaned her name, the only thing he could get out past the pleasure already crowding him to overfilling.

Suddenly she stopped completely, his cock still buried down her throat, and locked eyes with him. Sounds were coming from the bedroom behind her and abruptly there was a knock on the door. "Anybody in there?" came a slurred voice. "My back teeth are floatin'."

She slid his cock free with a slow and deliberate "pop" that had to have been audible through the door. "Occupied," she said sweetly. "Come back in ten minutes, please."

"Fuckin' Rick," they heard the bathroom-seeker muttering as he left in search of a less-busy haven. She looked at him and grinned. "Where were we? Oh yes....I believe you were about to fuck me until I screamed."

And she stood up, pulled up her dress -- no panties beneath, he realized, stunned anew. Minx, he thought again, gazing at the wetness already dripping down her thighs -- how long had she been hot and ready? Had she been planning this, or was it just her usual constant slow burn? God, she's incredible. How the fuck did I get so lucky? She shrugged the dress's straps off her shoulders and then did a slow bump-and-grind. Her tits spilled out immediately, her nipples -- hard and crinkled -- standing out like bright red rosy buds, begging to be sucked. He reached for her, but she forestalled that, wheeling around and bending over the counter. She tossed her head, her blonde mane slipping to one side, and gazed back at him sidelong.

She waggled her ass at him, reaching back one-handed to finger her sopping pussy and spread it wide for his delighted gaze. "Take what's yours, loverboy," she whispered.

Wetness on his cheeks, freezing to cold diamonds in his beard. He tried angrily to brush them away -- more unwanted detritus -- but they clung stubbornly. A shuddering sob tried to tear itself free and he choked it back. He reached convulsively for the railing and clutched it hard, steadying himself, its rigid edges biting into his hand. Memories. Only memories now, as intangible and substanceless as air. All lost; all gone; all ruined; remained only dust and ashes in the hearth that once banked the flame of their love.

There on the deserted balcony, clad in the gossamer film of broken dreams, snow drifting around him in silent invitation, ghosts of New Years' past crowding close, he raised his champagne flute on high in fingers made cold and stiff by the biting wind. "Happy New Year," he said softly.

-- PB

(This was not originally how I intended to end the year, but this balcony scene just wouldn't leave me alone. I hope you enjoy this one despite of -- or perhaps because of -- the ending, and that your New Year's Eve is much happier than his. May all your dreams come true in this upcoming year. Thanks for reading!)