One Bite

Mathew awoke feeling feverish, sweaty and bruised. 

He was shocked awake while in the middle of an very erotic and strange dream.  Mathew felt comfort when he saw his wife, Trish, lying peacefully beside him still in the arms of slumber.

His limbs felt heavy and he felt as if he had a hangover even if he had not been drinking the night before.  Strange dream, he thought and then some of the dream came back to him.  There was the woman.  There was the hotel room.  There was putting his arms around her as she gazed out the window.  Then there was the way she turned to face him in an embrace.

He remembered her taking his hand and slipping his middle finger into her mouth and sucking gently.  He also remembered that caused him to feel an electric shock through his whole body.

And then nothing.  Did it end there?  What was he missing?  Damn!  What happened to the good part?

Mathew quietly got out of bed, careful not to disturb his wife.  He went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.  As he pulled his pajama top off, it stuck to his skin and he thought "what the hell?".  He eased the fabric off of his shoulder and was horrified to see what looked like a bite mark.

His mind raced as he tried to reconstruct his evening.  Dinner with Trish, an hour or so of television and a little bit of time on Facebook (his guilty pleasure).  In bed by 10:30 and asleep by 10:45.  What caused the place on his shoulder?

As he stepped into the steaming hot water and felt it wash over him, a feeling of guilt and shame overwhelmed him.  He remembered flashes of his dream, the woman, the hotel room, the embrace, the woman's sucking mouth.  Mathew felt like crying.  If he could betray Trish so easily in his dream, could it be that much more difficult to betray her in real life?  The answer shamed him but also excited him.

In another City, a woman smiled and thought about tasting the flesh of Mathew's shoulder with just one bite.

The prompt for this little missive was "One Bite".  I hope you enjoyed it but I probably won't do any more "porn" for a while.  To see who else did what else, please check out "We Work For Cheese" for a list of participants.

The Succubus

She selected Mathew purposefully.  He was exactly what she wanted.  Mathew was not too old, or too young.  He was intelligent, talented, and compassionate, a good honest and moral man.  In short, he was perfect.

She began her campaign by admiring his talent and becoming one of his many "groupies".  Then she started sharing some personal issues with Mathew and asking for his advice.  When he showed himself to be thoughtful, caring, and somewhat innocent, she began to exhibit some of her insecurities.  Bit by bit, they grew closer as "friends", but by then she was also showing him a flash of herself in photographs from time to time.  The flashes were never too suggestive, just giving him an outline of who she was and letting him fill in the blanks.

Their conversations began to be more flirtatious.  They were playfully sexual in their discussions. As time went on, she became more forward with Mathew, even indicating she would come to him if he wished.  Knowing he was hesitant,  she would then back away a bit and let him think about the possibilities.

Finally, she felt sure that Mathew was ready for her.  She got a flight to his city and booked a reservation for a suite at an airport hotel.  Mathew met her in the cocktail lounge where she was sipping a Bombay Sapphire martini.  He was obviously a bit nervous and he approached her rather shyly.

They embraced as friends do and shared a chaste kiss.  She had dressed carefully for the trip wearing a demure white blouse and knee length black skirt.  Her jewelry and make up were minimal and her fragrance was subtle.  At one point, she took Mathew's hand. squeezed it,  and placed it on her leg about two inches above her knee.  She knew he could feel the garter that held up her sheer black stockings.

They ordered lunch although neither of them was really hungry. After lunch, she invited Mathew back to her suite to admire the view and he again seemed unsure of how to proceed.  This was even better than she expected.  His apprehension was a delight to her!  They took the elevator up to the 11th floor, quietly assessing each other.

Once inside the suite, she walked to the window and commented on how pretty the view looked.  Mathew walked up behind her and stood very close as he put his arms around her looking not at the view but at her.  She smiled to herself and let her body press against him.

Mathew was sure she wanted to have sex with him.  She did not.  What she wanted was his innocence.

As she turned into his embrace, she thought to herself, "Next time, we'll do this when he's awake."

This post is my contribution to Nicky and Mike's 30 Days of Writing Minus 2 with the topic of "Succubus".  Check out the other players listed on "We Work For Cheese".

Zombie Roses

I looked at the three roses that were left from the arrangement I received on January 22nd and realized they were no longer living.

Queer.  They still looked rather fine, or at least they were holding up okay, but there was a slight stink to them now.  And the petals were drooping in places and seemed to have a decayed aura about them.

Usually looking at flowers cheers me, but these were roses that made me want to avoid them.

My mind drifted to last night when I was listening to the audio from the television in the next room.  Alex was watching "The Walking Dead" while I cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.

I have never been able to join Alex in watching this popular series.  Dead things don't appeal to me on any level.  Alex swears it's not really about the zombies, but about the people "dealing" with th zombies.  Hah!  So why do they call it "The Walking Dead"?  Ugh!

I opened the kitchen window and a strong breeze came through.  Within a few seconds, the pretense of life from the roses was gone.  The petals fell to the table leaving the flower stalks naked and dead.

A shot through the head wasn't necessary in this instance, just a breath of fresh air to get rid of the putrid thing.

I scooped up the petals and tossed them out the window.

Please go to We Work For Cheese for more positive takes on the topic of Zombies.  

Get Sick Get Well Hang Around the Ink Well

Oddly, that was my favorite Bobby Dylan song when I was a kid.  It may still be.

Oddly, I know exactly what he means with those lyrics.

Oddly, I have been sick, been well, and hung around an ink well.

The End.

This is part of Nicky and Cheesy Mike's writing challenge.  Go to We Work For Cheese for much better posts on the topic of "Dylan".  This is all you will get from this contributor.

DAMN!

True Story:

Okay, every morning when I 'm putting on my makeup, I look in the mirror and say "Damn!  You are beautiful!  Don't ever die!"

People laugh when they hear and/or and see me do that but I don't care.  If I don't say it to me, who will?  I mean really!

I've known a lot of women who bemoan their appearance.  To hell with that!  Go ahead and appreciate what you've got!  I

Perfection is always in the eye of the beholder.  Look in that damn mirror and love yourself exactly as you are. 

Today's prompt was "Damn".  Now go on over to "We work for cheese" and see how the other beautiful people addressed this prompt!

How Did That Happen?

Alex and I are serious sports fans when it comes to our football and baseball teams.

We love the 49ers and the SF Giants.  We got Harry a 49er stadium blanket for Christmas.  He loved laying on it to watch the games while the 49ers were still in the running.

The morning after the 49er loss to the Seattle Seahawks, we found the stadium blanket in dismal disarray.  Harry had chewed it to pieces.

Now, Alex and I are not really sore losers (there's always next year and all that), but apparently Harry does not like to see his team out of the running.

When Zoe, (our other dog) does something naughty or destructive, she won't even look us in the eye.  She will slink out of the room to avoid our censure.  She really appears to be remorseful and sorry for making a mess, tearing up that chair, and/or eating that prime rib right off the kitchen counter.

Harry on the other hand is quite proud of his handiwork and has no compunctions at all about his behavior.  How did that happen?  Ask Harry.  He will tell you.

Please keep in mind that these photos were taken in Harry's Apartment.  I would clean it up for photos but he likes it as is.  I assure you the rest of the house is not quite as rustic as Harry's Apartment.

This is my lame contribution to the 30 minus 2 February writing challenge put on by the lovely Nicky and Cheesy Mike at the "We work for cheese" blog site.

Ketchup - Or Catch Up (Have It Your Way)

I have my reasons.

The first reason is that how could we not acknowledge Golda Meir in a post called "Gouda"?  She was great.

Moving on, Gouda is a city in the Netherlands about an hour by train outside of Amsterdam.  It's really a very good place.  (And the cheese is the best in the world for grilled cheese sandwiches.)

Not so "Gouda" is the fact that my Oklahoma cousins came for a visit last Friday.  Oh I like them fine, but on Thursday before their visit, I sprained my low back and became a crippled mess until yesterday when I finally snapped out of it so to speak.

Spraining my low back was no accident.  I was on the telephone with Kelly, my Oklahoma girl cousin, when I was in the bath.  Kelly tends to be a tad long winded so I had to keep adding hot water ever few minutes after the first hour on the telephone with her.  Finally, I figured I would slip silently out of the water and wrap myself in a towel while clutching the phone to my ear so as not to miss a word of the lengthy and important conversation.  I turned a certain way and felt that dreaded "whap" and splashed back into the tub.  I cut the convo short, (hah), and hung up.  Then I spent about 45 minutes wondering how I could climb out of the tub without moving my legs.  (It's difficult but not impossible.)

Since I had temporary insanity at this point, I didn't call Kelly back and un-invite her and her husband Joe.  It was too damn late to change their plans.  Kelly and Joe were on a flight at 7:00 AM the next morning whether I could walk or not.  Since I am a pillar of inner strength, I decided this was a case of mind over matter and that I would see it through being the hostess everyone has come to expect and quit my whining over being paralyzed and in agony.  See I'm big like that.

Still, I did have to wonder when my husband Alex would kick in and step up to the plate with the preparations for our guests.  I soon found the answer was "When Hell Freezes Over."

I generally make every effort to make sure the house is pristine, there are fresh linens in the bath, and well planned meals have been shopped for and ready to be carried out.  Sadly, this was not to be the case this time.  Alex and I do not see eye to eye about such matters.  Planning is not his long suit.

Still, if we were to count the empty wine bottles at the end of the visit, I would have to say a good time was had by most, if not all.  I was on pain medication and muscle relaxants so did not partake in booze.  I did not partake in the general frivolity either for that matter as I was trying to do Lamaze breathing to control my pain.

Funny the more they drank, the more scatterbrained I felt.  I had a hard time following tipsy conversations and I fear my facial expression was much like that in the above photo.

Now, Nicky, my love, you see I work for you and "we work for cheese" and now I feel I am in the with in-crowd again!