Short Story
The doll rested safely and, dare Jessica believe…contentedly…against her heart for the rest of the afternoon.
Her skin was like coal, dark black and ashy in places, so dry she looked as if a stiff wind would blow her away like a mound of sand in a hot desert. She spoke in a whisper as Jessica passed.
“Miss?”
She might have missed it any other day, walked by in her usual haste, but it seemed as if all other sounds had paused momentarily for this woman’s message to travel to Jessica’s ear.
“Miss…ssss…?”
Like the lulling hiss of a snake, the word hit its mark, soft and swaying; Jessica turned briefly to meet the woman’s deep…
“Annabelle.”
It was a one-word command that lifted her from concentration on her work.
He was behind her, his hands around her neck, fingers pressing into her collarbone, before she had a chance to respond.
“You need to put it away. It’s time.”
“But, I have just one more email…” the hint of a whine, which she immediately regretted.
“Annabelle.”
She knew better than to argue.
Closing her laptop, turning off the lamp, she licked her lips and prepared to face him, but his hands held her in place…seated and immobilized by her unwillingness to press him.
She closed her…
Rebecca couldn’t help glancing occasionally at the subtle bulge, wondering at the size of him. As he read, her gaze swam slow laps between his lips and the pleated shadows beneath his belt.
Michael Parks was relaxed and confident before this crowd, smiling easily and gesturing with his hands. His voice, soft and deep, projected well. She let it in, feeling the vibrations travel from her inner ear, down the sides of her neck, to the tops of her shoulders, her back, and into her belly.
Reaching into the bag by her feet, she pulled out her own copy of…
Erotica
She slid her skirt to her waist, spread her legs, lifting one knee against the gear-shift
Misty gave her directive, “Call. Dave. Home,” and the car’s bluetooth obliged…”Calling Dave. Home.”
“Yell-o…’sup, hon?”
“Drivin’.”
“And?”
“Just stuck in traffic, bored outta my mind.”
“Ahhh…lookin’ for some action, eh?”
“Yep.”
“I could probably swing somethin’.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Like what?”
“Like…where are you?”
“Near exit 277. But, we’re at a crawl…and I’m wearing a skirt.”
“Good girl…makes things easy. Panties?”
“Could lose them quick and easy.”
“Do it.”
He waited a moment as he heard her rustling around a bit.
“Done.”
“Lick your fingers. Really suck on them…leave ’em wet…”
She did.
“Now rub them around your clit…
“Tabitha, this house is just unbelievable! Who is your decorator? I simply must know.” Angelica looked around the living room. The marble floors, the large, plush rugs, the exquisite furniture. Every piece was decadent. The detail was unequivocally riveting, and Angelica felt as if she could just sink into the over-sized leather couch, cover herself with the cream-colored, cashmere throw, and lose herself in the 1st edition Lady Chatterley’s Lover on the coffee table.
“Michael Evansfield planned and oversaw the whole process. It was a stunning thing to watch him work…the drawings, the fabric swatches, the dreamy young men he…
As Katie took the last stair onto her floor, it became apparent that the sounds of laughter and hum of conversation were coming from her own apartment.
She paused for a moment, breathed in deeply, and exhaled what sounded like an epic sigh. Pushing her hair out of her face, she licked her lips and headed down the hall.
No need to use the key; it was already unlocked. No need to knock; she lived there.
But who the hell were all these people? And where the hell was Peter?
She scanned the crowd and balanced her briefcase, purse, keys…
The man in the suit was speaking to them both, “I want you to lie down in front of the window. People will be filing past, and that will give them the best view.”
“What exactly do you want us to do?” asked Callie, the shorter of the two, and younger by a few years. Her short curly hair, matched the short curly hair between her legs, which the man was looking at now. She followed his gaze and looked down. “Do you want me to shave it?”
“No. It’s fine. Everyone has their preferences, and I’m sure someone will…
Miranda had worked for Mr. Jordan for 15 years as the only flight attendant on his private jet. It was a sweet deal, really.
There were drawbacks of course.
Though she had a lot of time off, she was paid year-round to be on call. When Mr. Jordan wanted to fly, she had to be at the ready within an hour, sometimes less. It also meant she got to travel quite a bit herself. When Mr. Jordan went to Paris, so did she. When Mr. Jordan went to Dubai, Miranda did, too.
She knew several languages and had originally been…
It hung there, unopened, creamy white and expectant in midair. An unmarked envelope tied to a string over the kitchen counter.
She sat down her work things, piled her keys and purse on the counter, slipped off her blazer and placed it over the dining room chair.
With a smile that betrayed her prudence, she took hold of the envelope and detached it from the string that held it. Placing her finger under the flap, running it along the length, she split the paper slowly and gently, exposing a folded card, which she dislodged from its encasement and flipped open.
…
“Fuck!” I blurted between clenched teeth.
The blue and red lights in my rear view mirror were the last thing I had time or money for. But, as a law-biding citizen is wont to do, I immediately began looking for a place to pull over. It was a dark night on a poorly-lit highway, so I thoughtfully pulled down a side road to keep us both out of harm’s way. (Hey, what can I say…I’ve got nothing against cops, and I had no intention of watching this one turned into road kill by some inattentive driver.)
I turned down my…
Brigit Delaney
Blogger, educator, writer, lover of dogs, yoga pants, and a fine Irish whiskey.
