A Darker Flame: Reigning King

This is my second contribution to A Darker Flame. I love that Chris says to combine another genre with erotica, and since I am an ID addict, it was kind of a no-brainer what I would come up with…

Adora was heady from riding the waves of her orgasm, and now from being tied up on the bed. Elijah dressed all in black looked sadistic and terrifying, but alluring to her as he never had before. Stubble on his usually impeccably smooth face and open rage, he stalked about like a king.
Her emotions ran amok, since it was hard to know what to feel when she was being tortured by her partner. But as he kicked Didier again and caressed her cheek with the butt of his gun, she was completely terrified.
Didier was sullen and bruised. His battle to get the better of Elijah, had ended up with him being pistol whipped and smothered with chloroform.
Lying on her side unable to push her hair out of her eyes, she blinked as she studied Elijah. The sardonic smile on his face.
“I was not supposed to know, but I know. I didn’t know right from the start, but then I found out. I guess you both had a really good laugh at my expense. The silly scientist being betrayed by his lover and boss…” Elijah’s eyes were distant as his voice trailed off.
“Elijah–” Adora started.
“No!” Elijah’s voice boomed. “I don’t want to hear anything from you Adora. Not now.”
He stalked like a big cat to pause over Didier. Kicked him again.
“Do you like her tied up? She likes that you know, to be tied up. But…” Elijah leaned against the wall. “Might be the last time you see her like that. Might be the last time she is ever tied up. It’s all up to me. Whatever I want…”
Elijah walked across the room to the window. Adora watched Didier, his bruised jaw tense as he studied Elijah, holding his side where he was kicked.
“You’re not a man. Why because you have a gun? You’re a pussy with arms.” Didier spat out, saliva and blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth.
“You think you are going to psych me out? No Didier, the two of you have played enough games with my mind.”
Adora wanted to speak, but the way he had screamed at her before made her feel like she should not say anything and make him any angrier. She felt guilty for her part in this, but it had not been as simple as one man over another.
Elijah closed the curtains.
“I want to play a game now.” He turned off the lights. Adora closed her eyes with fear. When she opened them, she recognized her enlarged handwriting on the curtains. “Let’s see if we can guess who this is about Didier. You see Adora is sleeping with both of us–I just had her when she was in Chile. My tongue was all over that corset…”
He walked over to the bed, his nail dragged along the push of her breasts offered at the top of the corset.
Lower.
“Exactly as I thought…” He moved his finger from between her legs to his lips and closed his eyes. When he opened them, he said as if there had not been a distraction. “Let’s read. Adora? You have to read so we have the right emphasis, don’t you think?”
Adora rolled on the bed, which was pleasure and pain in her present state of bondage. Elijah caressed her cheek again with the butt of the pistol. She tried to open her mouth, but tears filled her eyes and mucous and saliva flooded her mouth. Her own words came to betray her on the curtain: the description of what had happened in their Chilean hotel suite just before she arrived on the island…
“Stop crying!” His voice boomed again and she cried all the more. Her vision was blurry, as whiteness came like a cloud to her face…
When she woke up, she had no idea where she was for a moment. Until she saw Elijah dressed all in black in the mirror: the reigning king of her terror.

Darker flames can be found here:

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photo via wikipedia

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Amaretto Sour

This cocktail story is one of many cocktail stories, you can find more here. We are all raising our glass in honor of the upcoming release of Kristina Lloyd’s latest novel Undone. It’s an all-day celebration kicking off a blog tour that will be stopping here as well.
I am so excited about this book! Kristina is a master of the genre. Her books have all the elements I love: they are sexy, dark and psychologically rich. I am constantly gifting her novels to friends…
And now my cocktail story, Kristina helped me to decide which cocktail I would go with…and I might raise an amaretto sour to Kristina later today…
Cheers!

“That is too sweet,” he said after she ordered her cocktail.
Kit pursed her lips, and swiveled around on her bar stool.
Too sweet was what she was going for: hair pulled up in a bun, pink vintage dress circa 1940 and a decadent cameo that grazed her impressive cleavage. When her amaretto sour was placed in front of her, she leaned toward the bartender.
“Extra cherries please,” she smiled softly, making eye contact so he would not be stingy.
He smiled back and dropped in two extra cherries, when his equally vintage-suited up and suspendered colleague dropped even more cherries into the drink.
“There you go honey,” she smiled, adjusting her bowtie. “They match your outfit!”
Kit smiled, and turned back to her date.
“You can’t be serious,” he said, his eyes moving below her cameo.
Taking a sip of her amaretto sour, she dipped her finger in the glass to pull out a cocktail-soaked cherry.
“Are you?”
He scoffed.
“You want the same thing I want. You want me to fuck the sweetness out of you…”
Kit wanted to slap him, but she did not want to create a scene in Prohibition. She figured she would have a nice drink with Thom, who she had been chatting with online and who was as into the retro lifestyle as she was. But from the moment he judged her drink, she was done.
He continued to talk about the filthy things she wanted him to do to her. She was not turned on in the least, discreetly ogling the gorgeous bartender who had put two more cherries in her drink. Jackson was on his nametag. She also smiled as Josephine’s nametag came into view, while she plucked at the cherries she had saved for last at the bottom of her drink.
“Would you like another honey?” Josephine asked.
Thom answered before Kit could.
“No, she wants a real drink this time. Give her a–“
“Yes, I would like another amaretto sour,” Kit added. “with extra cherries.”
“Are you serious? I have kind of had it with the sweet and innocent act Kitty–“
The second she heard Kitty, she snapped. Schoolgirl taunts about Hello Kitty were ressurected.
She got up.
“Where are you going Kitty?”
Thom’s voice grew distant as she walked into the bathroom, and sat in one of the plush pink lounge chairs. The door opened behind her, and she was afraid he had followed her in.
“Are you okay Kitty?”
Kit looked at Josephine who had followed her.
“It’s Kit. No one calls me Kitty.”
Josephine nodded and walked out. She returned holding an amaretto sour with a pyramid of cherries inside, presented on a Prohibition branded lace doily.
“He’s still out there, chatting up tonight’s hopeful conquest.”
Kit sipped the very sweet amaretto sour, letting her tongue swirl around the cherry pyramid.
“You are way too pretty for him anyway!”
Kit laughed, caressing her cotton candy pink stockinged leg.
“Thank you, it’s nice when us girls stick together!”
“Yeah, it is!”
Josephine was sexy in suspenders, a buttoned-up shirt, tailored pants and bowtie.
“How late are you working tonight?” she asked Josephine looking in the mirror to see her reflection.
“Why are you gonna wait for me?”
Kit blushed, which made her even pinker in her outfit.
Josephine stood up,
“Another amaretto sour doll? Extra cherries?”
“No.”
“Do you want anything else doll?”
Kit stood up, she and Josephine were eye to eye in the bubble gum pink lounge.
“What did you have in mind?”
Josephine’s lips tasted like maraschino cherries, and her curves underneath Kit’s hands were equally as round and sweet. Pressed to the cushioned wall, Kit was sloppy wet between her legs. When Josephine pulled away, she chewed on her lower lip. Kit swooned from the amaretto sour and Josephine’s lips.
“Was that what you had in mind Kit?”
Kit grinned and pulled her close, running her hands over Josephine’s sinfully curvy behind.
“I have a show tonight otherwise I would have gone home with you.” Josephine whispered.
The two women exchanged numbers, and Josephine walked out of the ladies’ room. Kit had one final lingering look at Josephine’s backside until she reached the bar.
“There you are!”
It was Jackson the bartender. She walked over to the bar with a smile, confident her lipstick was not smudged.
“I needed to make this for you.” Kit looked at the champagne glass filled with cotton candy, that dissolved as Jackson poured champagne over it. “On the house for the pretty pink lady…”
She didn’t need another drink, but he had made it for her and she had wanted to have face time with him all night.
“Thank you,” she smiled, raising her glass.
“That guy you were with was really lame. With a girl looking as sweet as you do.”
“You’re making me all red.”
“No, I could but I haven’t. I am being the gentleman that creep was not. He left with another girl, and if it had not been her it would have been anyone.”
“He did not seem that way online, but in person…lame.”
“That cocktail sweet enough?”
“More than enough. Can I have extra cotton candy on the side?”
“You always want extra!” Jackson laughed handing her a ream of cotton candy.
She did not know how to eat it delicately, so sticky threads stuck to her cheeks. Jackson caressed her cheek softly.
“You are making it really hard for me to not make you turn red Kitty.”
“My friends call me Kit.”
“Does anyone call you Katherine?”
“You do.”
She stayed with him until the bar closed, eating lots more cotton candy.
His loosened tie and suspenders hanging over his hips while counting money was the sexiest thing through her cotton candy vision. Jackson closed the pouch with money, and turned to see her looking at him.
“Will you come see me again?” he stood in front of her, as she arched back against the counter.
“If you want me to.”
“I want..”
He licked cotton candy from around her mouth, and on her lips. Kit grabbed his suspenders to pull herself closer to him. He barely moved his lips from hers. Every time she thought they were done, another sweet kiss.
They exchanged numbers, as he walked her outside for a taxi. The Prohibtion taxis were pink, she crawled into one with leftover pink roses from the bar, cotton candy and a wet kiss from Jackson.
She closed the door on the tip of her cotton candy. Plucking that piece off, she realized it was the sweetest date night ever…

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Wicked Wednesday #117 — Flowers

Settling in the backseat of the town car that picked him up for his meeting crosstown, all Oscar could think of was roses. The roses in the hotel lobby Severine walked past when they arrived days ago. They were deep scarlet. Her smile framed by scarlet roses was so beautiful, he had barely made it upstairs with her.
When they got to New York, they both knew that they had stuff to deal with. He knew she was not insincere when she was with him, but when she talked about Rafe he could see her heart was bruised. And he never told her about Shanghai, because he wanted something of Eliza to himself.
When he met Eliza in the hotel restaurant, there were bright red petals on her arms as she drank fresh-squeezed orange juice. There were rose petals on him as they went up in the elevator. He watched her when she saw the reflection in the mirror of the man she had had dinner with the night before with Severine. Eliza slumped even more against him, as they got off the elevator and took his hand as they walked into the hallway.
Oscar was happy he and Severine were staying in separate rooms. He had to have meetings in his, so it was best that way. Eliza walked ahead of him into the room after he opened the door.
He did not turn on the light.
“You still want me?”
She nodded without hesitation. He wondered if it was revenge sex. Or lack of guilt sex, because she knew that her fiance was with someone else. He studied her, but she was closed.
“Show me.”
“Hold me.”
Her voice soft and pleading, he knew intuitively what she was feeling. A combination of what he thought she was feeling, and things he did not know because he had no idea the dynamic of this relationship that she held onto yet made her stray in the first place with him.
He held her close, she smelled like roses. She always did, but this time perfumed and fresh ones because petals were on her.
Close to her he lacked control. Though he was not sure she was there emotionally, he wanted her. And her body began to demand from his, everything he wanted to do to her.
Naked except for rose petals was how he remembered her now, as he got a text from her. Her naked back rising from the bed covered in rose petals.
It was Severine’s lips that matched the roses in a firm line looking at him later. She started speaking French, as she did when she was mad or frustrated. He felt vulnerable as he felt rose petals float over his body on the bed.
He could still smell Eliza.
“She is the woman, I did not know…” Severine started in English.
Oscar propped himself up on pillows.
“No one knew…”
“Rafe was furious, he is the type of man he would cheat on her, but want her to be encased in glass.”
“What about you? What does he want of you?”
Severine looked down at the bed, a tear fell on a rose petal. He sat up stretching his long legs onto the floor, squishing rose petals under the soles of his feet. More rose petals squished as he held her close against him…
“Well do you want me to sit in your lap Oscar?”
Oscar had lost track of time thinking about Eliza and Severine. He had not noticed they were already at Polly’s townhouse. Polly would take his mind off everything, because she never hid her dislike for him. She stood angrily outside the car.
“Hello Polly,” he said kissing her cheek, which she disregarded as she sat in the back with a small painting after he moved aside hastily.
She smelled like a bouquet of flowers. When he first met her he was attracted to her, but made it a rule not to date people he worked with. Polly made it very easy, she was always super crisp with him.
“Don’t hello Polly me! We are going to be late as per usual when I have to go see a client with you!”
“We will be fine–“
She turned and looked at him directly which was rare.
“I saw you in the newspaper, making art of yourself. You are like a rock star in the office…Well, I am not a groupie. I am all about business, and not the business of you making me look bad!”
“You got the DeLempicka?”
Polly smiled,
“Of course. I am good at what I do, I just don’t make a show of it like you.”
“Polly, you are amazing at what you do. You are lovely with clients, and a terror with your colleagues. Well at least me.”
“Are you accusing me of being badly behaved? I am never! I was raised to be a lady. You just bring out the worst in me…”
Oscar looked out of the window, secretly happy to be even in this moment with a woman who disliked him. It was grounding.
He looked down at the painting, and saw Polly’s stilettos on rose petals. Rose petals on her hip.
Everything was roses…

More Wicked Wednesday here:

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photo by f dot leonora

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I’m Across The Pond Today!!!

Tabitha Rayne who I adore, she is a brilliant writer included in my first anthology, MY FIRST THREESOME and is just a brilliant human being in general! She is also a member of the fabulous Brit Babes, and believe me they are fabulous! When Tabitha personally invited me to guest blog I was beyond tickled pink–join me over at their blog today where they even provided the pink bubbly for me!

photo by f dot leonora

Wicked Wednesday #116 — Photograph

Fiona brought the paper to her that morning, folded and presented the quadrant that had the photo.
It was of Oscar, they were using the photo Fiona had taken of him in Shanghai. Fiona had taken some candids of him. The article was about Fiona’s photography, questioning how she had gotten such photographs of Oscar who was usually depicted very stern.
Eliza often saw pictures of Oscar in the newspaper. His business made it so and now that she knew him, she was hyperconscious of it.
Her hand caressed his image on the page as she waited in the Grammercy Park restaurant for their assignation. She sipped fresh-squeezed orange juice, and looked around for him she hoped not anxiously.
When he walked in, her heart raced and she stopped breathing. It always felt like a prelude to death, the violent reactions she had to the sweetness of him entering a room. His kiss on her hand, palm and mouth in that order ranged from sweet to playful and…something else.
“It’s good to see you,” Eliza purred, her entire being filled with that sense of something else.
“And you Eliza.”
She reached for her orange juice.
“You know, I know this sounds…weird…but even though I knew about your girlfriend…even though she is beautiful, and I know you deserve someone that is your own…even though it is hard for me to see you with someone.”
Oscar stared at her, digesting what she had rambled she thought.
“You mean to say you still want me? You still want to fuck me?”
Eliza felt a bead of perspiration burst about her temple as she looked at him. His scent was warm because of his nearness, his body masquerading as business man on a business meeting with her as a client it could have appeared. She had her tablet on the table because she did have some work while waiting for him. To distract her so she would not burst out with her pathetic sidestepping of her desire.
It was Oscar who had gotten her wet the night before, and even the steak she took out to defrost had not roused her the way it usually did. Reminding her of that frisky moment with Rafe that had ressurrected their sex life.
She had taken the steak out on purpose to remind her, but this close to Oscar it was very hard not to remember the first time they met in a hotel not nearly as civilized as this.
“Yes, and yes…”
He leaned back, the gaps between the buttons on his shirt showed his undershirt, but she imagined his bare chest beneath her hands.
“I’m not engaged. Severine and I are not exclusive. But you…”
“Don’t taunt me, if you don’t want me…”
He stood up, Eliza looked down.
“Are you coming with me or not?”
“You want me–“
He came around to her at the table.
“What is it with you and hotels? Are you going to make me drag you upstairs? This breakfast thing was your way of making it nice Eliza, like we are just two people who are going to converse about the stock market. Not like we are two people who want to fuck each other.”
“You’re being so abrasive…”
“I thought you liked me like that.”
“I did, I do…”
He turned around, she followed him. Between her legs slicker than they had been the first time he ordered her around in a hotel.
The elevator was not empty when they went up, until one floor from his. He pulled her close to him.
“I miss you,” he buried his face in the crook of her neck which was her undoing. She had tired of playing the coquette, leaning into him when he lifted his head. Drunk with desire, she clung to him as the elevator door opened.
The reflection of the couple in the hallway was of pure lust. The woman was barely dressed, kissing the man’s suited chest as he tied his tie.
Eliza knew that if she made eye contact in the mirror, she was making eye contact in earnest. She remembered the photograph coming to life in the restaurant last night of the woman Oscar was dating, now in the mirror beside Rafe.
Rafe.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

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E(lust) #61–My First Inclusion

Although I am a volunteer judge for e(lust)–and always retweet the newest editions–the only way to post the digest on one’s blog is to be included in it. I am beyond humbled to be included with my fellow bloggers, many of whom I know personally and admire. Additionally, I am delighted to share the below with you, to savor like a fine chocolate…

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Photo courtesy of Maria opens up

Welcome to Elust #61 -

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #62? Start with the rules, come back September1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Bloggers, please
I Touch Myself
Stunt Porn / People Porn

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Is sex unsexy? A ‘His & Hers’ post
Van Gogh, an erotic author and a selfie…

 

~ Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*

His Desires

All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7

days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy!

Thoughts & Advice on Sex & Relationships

Anorgasmia in women
One Week On
chatterbox
Safe Craigslist Hookups
Online Dating: How to Talk to People
Stealth Sex Toys-Stash Management
Last Longer In Bed For Men Naturally

Erotic Non-Fiction

Spicing Up Sex Life
Gasp, Shake, Thank You
Again and Again
Fapping to My Photos and Stories
Did you miss me?
Desire….What happens when you can’t succumb?
Off Balance
On the Sofa
The Solace of My Body
Self Given
Orgasms & Ice Cream
Skid Marks

Sex News,Opinion, Interviews, Politics & Humor

Nasty
Jacky au royaume des filles
What makes a sex writer?
Dubrovnik whore as metaphor 4 Balkan politics
Am I Pretty or Ugly?

Erotic Fiction

Lonely observations
Fucking and Being Fucked
The Churning Black, Part 4
A Return to Purpose
Bang on Target!
Polished
Please
My Night With Lilith

Writing About Writing

Words That Shouldn’t Be In Erotica
Transhumanist Erotica: Jacked In

Blogging

Just One Look

Thoughts and Advice on Kink and Fetish

The Hotness Of Cockteasing A Guy In Chastity
My eyes are over here
Submissive Men 101 Facts
Emotional Masochism
The time I made him make me safeword

Poetry

Frame Game – A Lusty Limerick

Events

Diana J Torres- Vagaculation Workshop

ELust Site Badge

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Wicked Wednesday #115 — Traffic Signs

His undone bowtie under her foot, Severine observed her naked long-limbed reflection in the mirror.
The irony was on the way to the hotel, even the traffic signs were conflcting: STOP and YIELD. But she knew she was not going to stop, that she was going to yield to Rafe.
She sang a French lullaby to herself to stop her heart from racing as it had been from the moment she slipped on her thigh highs. Fingered their lacy tops the way she wanted Rafe to touch her where she felt like satin, not lace.
The traffic signs and lights merged into one, a color-filled blur…everything was a blur as she headed up to the hotel room–not the one she was sharing with Oscar, but the one that Rafe gotten for them.
She walked into the room, he was not there. Then she heard the door slam, and before she could turn around she was grabbed from behind. Her struggle reminded her of when she studied ballet. Up in the air, her legs pedaled a resistance she did not really
feel.
Before she could open her mouth, his hand covered it. His scent was everywhere, stained the air as her legs their continued
resistance she did not really desire, but she waged it anyway.
His kiss on her neck quieted her. Her legs back down on the ground, Severine pressed into the front of him. Rafe’s mouth did not leave her neck as he sought the satiny bit of her, she craved for him to touch. She closed her eyes and everything happened to her, he happened to her.
Again.
Her eyes on her figure again in the mirror, she picked up his bowtie and took in his scent.
In this moment he was hers again, though she felt as disposable as one of the characters created by the playwright in The Twilight Zone who would conjure and dispose
of his characters at will.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked her.
Severine studied him, her head cocked.
“The traffic signs on the way here said stop and yield…I yielded…”

More Wicked Wednesday here:

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photo via google images

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Wicked Wednesday #114 — Doubt

Rafe settled across from Eliza, it was the first time in a really long time that he felt like they were together.
It was certainly the first time they had gone out in a long time since the accident.
He gazed at her hand wearing the ring he was always proud he had chosen without her. His tastes were far grander than hers. It was not obnoxious of him to say he was the architect of the woman before him, of the woman he was going to marry.
Eliza was more bohemian, and honestly seemed more like someone his sister would date. She recently confessed that she sometimes felt confined by the role of wife to be, so he tried to be more open.
He ran his hand through her hair, absently twisted a strand over and over again as he looked at the hair of the woman at the next table. Her hair was like Severine’s. Severine could be in New York, but she normally told him when she was coming to the city. Or when she was coming underneath him.
His heart still raced when he thought about her. The look on her face when he last saw her on Skype, let him know that he should leave her alone. She was in love with him, and he was not sure what he would be if he continued to contact her.
Eliza looked beautiful in the candlelight, in the dress he had bought her when he was away years ago. The color went well with her hair and eyes. He looked at her hands, and then up at the choker about her neck. There was no doubt that he loved her.
But he could not stop looking at the woman at the other table, her lovely form from behind leaning toward the man she was with. It was wrong, but if it was Severine, he wanted to hurt that man. The rage he felt that the man was sitting with her was irrational, but he felt it.
He felt a lot of things.
Severine, or her look-alike would not turn around for the love of God and he had to be careful with Eliza. She would know if his attention was divided. He reengaged with her, and then he paused. Pretended he was looking for the waiter.
It was Severine, not a look-alike. She noticed him instantly. The look on her face was wildly animalistic. Her walk to the bathroom was steady and self-assured to anyone who was looking, but Rafe knew she was not. He excused himself to go to the bathroom.
The path she took brimmed with her scent of tuberose. The bathroom was was dim, but the frosted glass door revealed which stall she had walked into in the unisex bathroom. Rafe put out his hand to prevent her from closing the door. Severine leaned against the wall, her foot on the toilet seat because there was barely enough room in the stall for the two of them.
“Severine,”
S’il te plait…” she said, her French rampant when she was vulnerable.
“I knew it was you even from behind.” He cornered her.
“I’m with someone.” She pasted herself to the wall.
“I’m with Eliza,” he said, caressing her face and touching the long dark hair that he had been eyeing with memories. He brought a fistful of it to his nose to take in the scent. “I just wanted to say hi.”
“Touch me.”
Rafe wanted to touch her with every fiber of his being, but he could not have her scent on him. She hitched up her skirt. Closed her eyes,
“I hate myself for wanting you to touch me, but please…please.”
He caressed her face, the smoothness of her cheek, her full red mouth…he needed to touch her other mouth.
She was wet like she always was when he touched her. He caressed just her satiny labia, she almost slipped she was at such a precarious angle.
“Where are you staying?”
Severine dug deep in her clutch, and pulled out a card from the hotel where she was staying.

Eliza gasped.
When she looked up in the mirror and saw Oscar, she gasped.
When Rafe returned, she weakly excused herself to go to the bathroom. In the bathroom mirror, Oscar was behind her.
She was glad it was a unisex bathroom.
“You’re beautiful.”
He’d told her that when she was in the hospital, now when he was telling her it might have been true to him.
“Oscar.”
She wrapped her arms about him, her desire like fire ignited on the side of a matchbox. Restraining herself, she moved back from him.
“I am so happy to see you. I could not wait for tomorrow, but now is like bonus time.”
Oscar smiled at her.
“Yes.”
“Is that the woman you have been seeing in Paris?”
He nodded.
“She’s beautiful.”
“So are you.”
Eliza held the bathroom sink for support.
“I have to go, but tomorrow?” he questioned her.
She swallowed hard and gasped.
“Yes, have no doubt.”
They hovered over each other, the fire ignited again, then sputtered when he kissed her cheek.
Left her for now.
When she saw her face in the mirror, she was filled with doubts.
Her walk back to Rafe was unsteady, but his smile comforted her. Calmed her for the moment. Her emotions were as crooked as the books stacked by the fireplace in the restaurant beside Rafe.

More Wicked Wednesday here:

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photo by f dot leonora

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Sticky Note No. 7

Yesterday, I wrote this inspired by a wedge that I saw on subway tracks the day before yesterday. Tamsin Flowers shared with me that she always wondered how shoes ended up on the highway…my character had one more shoe, so I decided to explore that…

Her bare feet were on the dashboard. It was pitch black outside, except for the stars that were piercing white almost like the sun. She was being a bit of a monster. A spoiled child really, daring him again. He did, threw her other wedge out of the car and onto the highway. Every time she saw stray shoes on subway tracks, trees or highways, she wondered how they got there. Once a bully snatched her new mary jane from her foot and hid it. Her mother was so mad at her, did not care that she had been bullied. Now she was bullying and hoping to be bullied now in a grownup way.

photo by f dot leonora