31 August 2011

The Zeppelin (8/31/11)

It's Wednesday again! Time for another Silver flash, and although I *just* finished this one, here she blows. This is my first attempt at steam punk, and I'm not so sure I like writing in the genre, but we'll see where it goes. Enjoy, and be sure to check out the other great flashers!

*For once, there's no language or violence. Don't let this deter you.*

The harsh wind blew across the landscape, scattering whatever remnants of life remained in the parched and war torn desert. What used to be a lush and green haven in the middle of the Kansas plains had shifted with the advent of a weapon that destroyed everything.

Tucking my head down, I turned my parasol against the wind to deflect the dust and kept a hand on the front of my dress to prevent the petticoat being exposed. The city sat quiet at the noon hour. All the locals would be at the bank, negotiating their rations for the week.

When old Johnny Two-Bit stepped in as our leader, we were all so lost that no one objected. Nobody spoke up. When Johnny started haggling us, and taking our most prized possessions, we realized our mistake all too late. But what else were we supposed to do?

The government practically abandoned us. “Tainted,” they yelled, pointing their long, crooked fingers at us. “Diseased,” they whispered, and spread the festering lies throughout the country. The whole damned place turned against our little town, and forced us to fend for ourselves.

They rebuilt the entire country and abandoned us.

But I’m not bitter or anything. The bank sat straight ahead of me, already with people lining out of the front door. A deep sigh snuck from my chest before I could catch myself.

“Excuse me?” The sharp voice came from my left, just inside the shadows of the alleyway.

“I didn’t say a word,” I replied, my voice tart. I might pay for my attitude later, when the night sky sends a chilly breeze through my flimsy windows.

“You needn’t say anything at all for me to hear it.” The man partially stepped into the light. One side of his face was set with a mechanical sheen, and where his eye should have been a ticking clock mechanism whirred and twirled.

“My word,” I said, my voice little more than a shocked whisper. “Sir, what’s happened to your face, pray tell?”

“Well, dear lady, so happens I missed payment on a debt I owed to Johnny, due to the government taking my homestead.” He reclined against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest, his coat tails falling around his knobby knees. I only just noticed his pants cut off short, exposing pale and hairy legs.

I stepped back and drew my chin up. “I am terribly sorry to hear of your loss, sir. If you’ll excuse me, I must make payment to the banker for my family’s weekly ration.”

No sooner had I taken three steps than he spoke again. “Pray tell, woman, what exactly you gain by giving the bankers two thirds of your meager income each week?”

Seething, I quickly backtracked and shoved him a little ways into the alley.

“Are you trying to get me thrown in jail?” My hissed words fell on deaf ears.

“I just wonder,” he said in a languid fashion, “if I might be able to interest you in an…arrangement, of sorts.”

My eyes narrowed. Of course. My family had the only hearty farm in the county, the only one turning enough of a profit to make the bankers take notice. If this man could get me on board with whatever crazy plan he had in mind, he might catch the eye of the very bankers who had cut off the side of his face.

“An arrangement.” I snorted and turned, my parasol prepared for the blast of hot wind. “You must take me for a fool.”

“No, I take you for a genius,” he replied with a soft and husky tone, grabbing my elbow before I could step into the sun. “You should come with me.”

“I don’t want to.” I made to jerk from his grasp, but just at that moment three burly guards from the bank strolled by. My words caught their attention.

“Oy!” The taller one peered into the shadows as I sank back. “Who be there?”

I cleared my throat and stepped forward. “’Tis I, Gwen of the McFarther farm.”

A low chuckle rumbled from deep in the man’s chest. “You should be at the bank, woman. You have dues to pay.”

“But if you’re leaving, the rations are gone.” My voice dropped to a whisper as the realization of my precarious situation set in.

“Oh, now,” said the second man. “We have some spare rations you can have.” His leering smile raised the hairs on my neck. “For a price.”

As they stepped forward, every instinct in my body lit on fire, telling me to go with the mechanical face man. I turned in the dark alley, reaching for him, and he caught my hand.

We tore through the narrow space as quickly as we could. Lucky for me, I’d chosen my boots to wear under the long petticoat. Who would have noticed, anyway? Just before we reached the sunlight, the world dropped out from under me.

My back hit a smooth wall and I found myself careening down a slide until I flew out on the other side and landed on a soft pile of blankets. When I came to a rolling stop, my dress was tangled around my limbs and sticking up in parts from the stiff corset. I heard soft laughter from the mysterious man and struggled to reign in the obtuse fabric as my cheeks burned red.

When I turned, my mouth dropped open. A machine sat in front of me, hidden in an underground cavern. Long and oval, and four times as big as I’d ever seen, it hovered on strings holding it to the ground.

“What is that?” I stepped back and landed square against my savior’s chest.

“That, my dear, is a zeppelin, and what we’re going to use to change the world.”


The magnificent flashers:

Victoria Blisse (m/f)


Cherie Noel (m/m/m)

Julie Hayes (m/m)
Freddy MacKay
Sui Lynn (m/m)

Ryssa Edwards (m/m)

28 August 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday! I hope this week finds everybody happy and safe. Here we go:

"I'm afraid I don't...understand what you mean, precisely. I get the feeling you don't eat lasagna."

The whole clearing burst into uproarious laughter. I stood there, wide eyed, as Levi strolled up to me. "No, I don't eat lasagna. What's your name?"

Poor Mel. She has no idea. Mwahahahaha!

21 August 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Since I finished Billie's scene last week, I'd like to offer you one from a different release coming later this year. It's another horror, titled By Blood, Bound:

"Woman," the old man boomed, and I was suddenly under the impression I should salute but my hands were tied so I nodded instead. "Levi has decided on an appropriate payment."

"You will feed me every night for the next six months," Levi said in a crystal clear voice.

Ah...okay? I wondered if take out would be good once in awhile because I hated doing dishes. But then Joey collapsed, crying, and I got the distinct impression Levi didn't want to try Mr. Wang's noodles.

That's it for this week! See you next Sunday, and have a great week!

17 August 2011

Plague (8/17/11)

Hey-ooooooooo! It's Wednesday again, which means a brand spanking new flash fiction piece. Enjoy, and don't forget to check the other magnificent flashers out! They write, too. lol


In the small town of Bruhearst, Nebraska everybody knew everybody else. The high school quarterback dated the head cheerleader, and the mayor held town hall meetings with all five hundred and forty three townspeople in attendance.

When the plague hit, rising from bacteria in the water welled beneath the earth’s crust during a massive earthquake in California, Bruhearst didn’t expect to be affected very much. The old men sitting outside of the barber shop laughed as their younger counterparts stocked up at the local grocer.

“Young fools,” they said. “We ain’t gonna be hit with no plague.”

Three weeks later, those old men were buried in the trench outside of town. The military would come by and burn the bodies under a controlled tent to prevent fumes escaping. Sammie watched as the huge trucks rolled through town, their tires leaving gouged tracks in the muddy street where the asphalt had been broken. Her baby shifted in her arms at the rumbling noise and she rocked him gently. The commanders blasted instructions to the houses at large, unsure how many survivors would actually listen to them.

“Citizens, we implore you to remain indoors. If you need supplies please call four-oh-two five-five-five three-eight-one-four. We will bring you supplies as we can.”

Sammie turned away as the voice droned on and on, seeping from an invisible man locked away inside the airtight truck. While they patrolled, making sure no stragglers were wandering the streets, Sammie and anyone else who’d been smart enough to stock up on supplies to last them three months, had been holed up in their homes for weeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d smelled fresh air.

The baby didn’t stir as she laid him in his crib. Sammie had switched to cloth diapers to prevent running out, and would breastfeed for as long as she needed to. She had a small garden in her locked tight greenhouse with access from the backdoor to sustain her small family.

Speaking of, where the hell was her husband? He’d left over two hours ago to visit the neighbor down the street and see if the elderly woman needed any food. He took their only gas mask and gun and still hadn’t returned. Worry seeped into her.

Settling into the rocker by the front window, Sammie picked up her knitting and began working on baby Brayden’s new winter hat again. The clacking of her needles created a soothing sound of familiarity for her, drowned out only by a periodic helicopter flying overhead or the sound of an echoing gunshot somewhere in the distance.

Sammie stopped moving for a moment, listening. Gunshot?

The back door burst open and her husband, Joe, burst into the kitchen. Sammie threw her needles to the side and slid to a stop at his side as he fell to his knees on the tiled floor. Blood dripped down from between his fingers over his shoulder.

“Joe?” Panic had Sammie on edge as she glanced towards the door, expecting the military to raid her home.
“Joe, what happened?”

“They shot me. The bastards shot me,” he managed, grunting with pain when she tried to sit him back against the cabinets so she could look at the wound.

“Who shot you?” She peeled away his shirt to reveal a shotgun wound. The buckshot had exploded out of the barrel and hit him in several spots along his shoulder. “Was it the military?” She stood and grabbed a clean towel to stem the blood flow.

“No, Sammie. Bob. Bob shot me.”

She stopped and swallowed. “Bob?” she repeated. “From three houses down?”

“Yes, that Bob.” Joe took the towel she offered and held it to his shoulder. “He stopped me on my way home, demanded I give him all of our bread stock. I told him no and pulled my gun out. But then his wife came up behind me, all wild eyed, and she knocked me over.” Joe grimaced under the pressure of the cloth.

“And then what?” Sammie backed away a few steps, realizing he didn’t have the mask anywhere near him.

“They tackled me, ripped off my mask and…” His voice trailed off as Sammie stared at her husband with wide eyes. “Oh, god.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” She kept her voice low to not wake the baby, but her anger was hard to control.

“I’m sorry,” Joe whispered and struggled to his feet. He advanced a few steps. As he came closer, she noticed the beads of sweat forming on his head and the red lines shooting into his eyes.

“Christ, Joe, you’re infected!” Sammie stumbled backwards, putting a chair between herself and her husband.

“Help me, Sammie,” he said, his voice cracking as the infection began to latch into his body.

She turned and ran to the baby’s room, slamming and locking the door behind her. Brayden stirred in his crib as Joe slammed against the door in an attempt to break it down. Sammie clapped a hand over her mouth and crept backwards as the tears flowed down her face. Her fingers stumbled across a phone and she looked down with a sense of dread forming in her belly.

“Sammie,” Joe wailed from the hallway as she dialed the numbers slowly. “Sammie, help me. I need you right now, baby.”

“Emergency services,” said a nasally voice from the phone. “How may I assist you?”

Sammie swallowed and steeled herself. “I need help.”

Joe beat on the door.

“What is the nature of your emergency, ma’am?” The operator seemed almost annoyed.

Sammie sobbed silently as Joe’s fists ravaged the door. “My husband went outside without a mask."


The flashing crew:

Pia Valeno (m/m)

14 August 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

I'm glad you guys like this one! The book is part of a Halloween anthology releasing October 29th with Silver Publisher. Continuing on to finish out this little scene:

He said nothing, just leaned close and flicked his tongue across my cheek, absorbing the salty tear escaping my eye. “Shh,” he whispered, raising a long claw to wipe the tears away. “Don’t cry, Billie, I don’t want to hurt you. I’m going to keep you.” Smiling, he tilted his head. “You’ll be my greatest treasure.”

Ooooo-weeeeee-ooooooo. lol, have a great week!

10 August 2011

It's Raining, It's Pouring... (8/10/11)

Wednesday again! Here's the writing, and don't forget to check out the other great bloggers listed below!

*LANGUAGE/GORE* (I like 'gore' better than 'violence')

Thunder clapped above the trees as the car wended its way along the curved road between the woods. The young girl in the passenger seat squealed, nervous and excited all at once, and squeezed closer to her boyfriend. He smiled and tightened his grip on her hand as he drove steadily forward in the sheets of pounding rain.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a laugh. “What are you worrying about?”
“This is one hell of a storm. I’ve never seen anything like it around here.”

“Well, don’t you let this nasty thing bother you. I’ve got everything under control.”

They drove in silence for a few moments, the only sound her soft breathing as she stared out of the window and traced the racing droplets path down the glass. Trees whirled by, a smear of green and brown and blonde as a face swung out of view from the branches.

“Holy shit,” the girl whispered, pressing against the seat.

“What?” Her boyfriend looked over with concern.

“Did you…There was a person in the trees.” She pointed with a shaking finger towards the window.

He glanced out the window, skeptical. “I don’t see anything. Must have been a trick of the rain.”

“No, there was a face and she…Well, she flew into the trees.” The girl pursed her lips, realizing how stupid she sounded. “I just thought I saw something. Never mind.”

“Ok, let’s just get you home out of this storm,” he replied, yelling over the loud thunder which smashed overhead.

She nodded and sank into the seat, wondering if she’d imagined the mysterious face in the window. Lightning lit up the night sky as she glanced out the window and saw the face again. An impossibly beautiful woman stared at her, keeping pace from the trees with the car going forty five miles an hour down the slick back road. The woman raised a finger to her lips and gave an impish grin before she disappeared into the night.

The girl leaned forward and pressed her forehead against the glass, trying to see where the woman went. She couldn’t see anything for the driving rain streaming around them, blocking out even the trees in some places.

A thud overhead made both of them glance up. The girl swallowed. “Steve, did you hear that?”

He nodded, looking between the roof and the road. “Yeah, I did. Must be a branch or something, Marie.”

Marie remained unconvinced. A branch that size would have dented the roof. Instead there was no mark, only the soft scratches of something shifting with the curves of the road. Marie blinked and looked forward just as the woman’s face dropped into Steve’s line of sight.

“Son of a bitch,” he exclaimed, and pulled the wheel hard to the left. The car went into a slow spin, every second painstakingly clear as they swerved to the side of the road. The car tilted onto two wheels before flipping onto its side. Marie’s screams filled the air as Steve bounced in his seat, having forgotten to put on his seatbelt before they drove away from the movies.

His head cracked off the steering wheel with the violent movements as the vehicle rolled one last time onto its top and Steve fell unconscious. With shaking hands and tears rolling down her face, Marie struggled to steady her breathing. She put a hand on the roof in an attempt to soften the blow as she unstrapped from her seat and fell into a heap amid the glass and shards of metal surrounding her.

“Oh, god,” she sobbed, crawling towards Steve’s lifeless body. “Steve?” She shook his shoulders once and watched as his head rolled to the side to reveal a gaping wound. Tendons and muscles lay exposed as blood poured from his neck and Marie watched in horror as the beautiful woman rose behind him to look her dead in the eye with Steve’s blood dripping down her chin.

Marie screamed again and tried to crawl backwards out of the car, but the woman moved too fast. She disappeared, and before Marie could blink, her shirt was being pulled and she was dragged into the rainy night.

The woman crouched in front of her, head cocked in a calculating stare.

“What do you want from me?” Marie’s cries filled the night.

“Only your soul,” she replied with a soft tone and attacked. Within seconds, Marie lay dead next to the car.

The rain continued to pound around the two lovers, dead before they could know what was attacking them. A sigh escaped the woman as she looked at her victims. The rain could wash away the road dirt, bit could never wash away the curse staining her soul.


As promised, the other magnificent storytellers:

Chris Quinton (m/m)
West Thornhill (m/m)

Victoria Blisse (m/f)
Heather Lin (m/f)

06 August 2011

Six Sentence Sunday

Continuing on  from the last leave off point:

Pulling each finger from my skin with a vicious tug, he ran his tongue along the wounds, moaning when my blood entered his mouth. I couldn’t see his face in the darkness, couldn’t see anything but the light reflect off the monstrous talons as they reached out to latch into the tender skin along the side of my breasts.

With a scream, I tried to writhe out from underneath him. But his heavy body held me in place by then, even if the invisible ropes weren’t. Blinking, I brought half his face into focus and lost my breath to fear.

A clear green eye stared at me unblinkingly, calculating and cruel, and he ran his tongue over the fangs hanging out of his mouth.

Until next week! Happy Sunday!

04 August 2011

Guest Blogger Ashlynn Monroe!

Hello, folks! Today, I'm pleased to welcome Ashlynn Monroe, a multi-published romance author. Please enjoy a little chat and excerpt, and thanks for dropping by, Ashlynn!

Sexy Slavery…

Okay, those two words don’t usual go together, but my new novella Slave to His Desires has a very sexy bit of sex slavery going on.  I love science fiction and erotic romance, this novel is a blending of the two.  I loved writing this book because I think we all secretly love the idea of being sexual dominated and everyone wants to be irresistible.  Madison Edwards finds herself in this position in the story as she’s kidnapped by E. T. and taken to a world beyond her wildest dreams.  She soon finds herself in a very precarious situation in the arms of a man who will rock her world…no matter what planet she resides on!

Chapter 1

Crowds mulled around the center of the market. Many of the Alburionian upper and middle class stood watching to see if any of the alien slaves interested them. Males and females from numerous planets had found themselves taken by the intergalactic slavers. Seeing an auction of newly imported aliens was rare, most slaves were born to it. Such an unusual assortment was hard to find. It seemed every non-allied world had a sentient representative today as part of this off-world slaver’s cargo.

Even with all the technological innovations and inventions, the Alburionian people enjoyed the service of aliens. They considered them lesser creatures, and even if the planet was a hodgepodge of alien and Alburionian DNA, only official citizen status meant anything. A slave was always a slave. There was no legal way to free them unless they went off-world, never to return. Few Alburion residents traveled off-world, as they considered pure Alburion the highest life form in the galaxy and preferred not to sully themselves with travel.

* * * *

The collar around Madison’s neck pulled tighter as she struggled with her captor. The ugly, short, albeit strong, creature yanked harder, and she stumbled forward.

They spoke strangely, but even though she couldn’t understand the words, their intentions were clear. She
was for sale to the highest bidder.

Terror raced through her heart as she watched the bored crowd milling around the platform. All the captives were naked, waiting to be inspected by pinching, grabbing hands and curious eyes. They were held in cages underneath the platform, but she and the male were the first prisoners they roughly hauled from the cages for the crowd’s perusal. The male was dragged onto the platform for inspection, and Madison could see horror on his face. Seeing what he endured made the expression wholly understandable. Madison couldn’t believe this was happening. Would they touch her like that too? She shivered.

The creature doing the auctioning called out loudly to the crowd. Occasional laughter erupted from the spectators. Watching the male’s auction didn’t offend or disturb these interested participants. Madison gazed in horror. How could one being abuse another so casually? The pain in his face brought on by the callous inspection was universal. No words were needed to
understand it.

Those in the crowd were mostly hairless beings. They were also scary tall, with unusually long limbs. They looked strange too, with features that humans didn’t possess. Compassion seemed to be a difference too; to allow such a terrible thing they must not have any.

Her turn was next, and when the creature tried to pull her up on stage, she fought. A rather old alien had just finished purchasing the male. Seeing the buyer’s lecherous look, Madison knew the poor slave’s nightmare wouldn’t end with the terrible auction. The thought of a multitude of hands on her genitals made her want to vomit.

Her hands stayed helplessly tied in front of her, and she lost her balance on the stone stairs. Falling, she ripped the flesh of her knees and then her arms as she protected her face from impact, rolling with the fall. Groaning and bleeding, she fought futilely as the ugly little creature dragged her up painfully.

The auctioneer began his unintelligible spiel. Several in the crowd stepped forward to touch her, and she yelped. She tried to fight but one of her captors hit her, holding her for the potential buyer’s examination. Madison stared out at the uncaring faces who watched her humiliation without the slightest indication of guilt. Bastards.

She’d finally been living her dreams. All she wanted to do was escape and return home—to reality. She wasn’t on Earth anymore. Overhead a light lavender sky, filled with fluffy gray clouds, and countless miles of space separated her from her home.

Immediately after her abduction she’d found herself in a cage next to an assortment of strange creatures. The hairy thing had stripped her naked and sprayed her with a tepid orange fluid. She’d sat in shock shivering for hours. Listening to the moans and cries of the others who shared her fate had only heightened her own terror. None of them spoke English. On Earth people from most countries and cultures spoke at least some English, but it seemed no one here did. It must not have caught on intergalactically. Didn’t aliens watch TV and listen to pop music?

She had tried to keep a positive attitude as her mind began to contemplate escape. The shaking that’d wracked her body subsided slightly. Fear gave way to anger. How dare some hairy alien just show up and snatch her from the streets. After processing that ‘yes, aliens and UFOs are real’ her next question was, did a group exist to protect one planet from another? She’d watched enough Star Trek to know Big Brother could go interplanetary. Who was watching out for the unaware, like herself?

She had tried to communicate with the others, but it was pointless. When she raised her voice, she found out why most of the prisoners sat quietly afraid in the dark corner of their cells. The hairy creature who’d stripped her earlier rushed at her with a stick. Hairball raised it and she thought he planned to hit her; however, she saw it glow and vibrate in his hand instead. Hearing the screaming and banging of the others told her that this wasn’t a good sign, just before she felt the horrible punishment. Pain radiated through her body, and she twitched, shaking on the cold metal floor, still damp from the orange spray. When it was over, she found herself coughing up blood and bleeding from her ears. Stumbling back into the corner, she’d curled up into a ball and sobbed as quietly as she could.

Terror kept her hidden and quiet. Every time Hairball came around she tried to be as small and quiet as she could. They gave her water and a disgusting paste even hunger couldn’t inspire her to eat. Without Earth’s day and night she lost track of time, assuming each time they sprayed her with the orange liquid represented a new and terrible day in hell.

* * * *

“Prime human female, years of work ahead of her, good for breeding, considered attractive by her species. This female is docile and healthy. Recently taken from her world, she’s ready for servitude. If it’s true about humans being resonates, this one certainly is. She was taken from a place of artistic expression.” The slaver shouted to the crowd, looking for any hint of interest in their faces.

The reddish brown hair of the naked human glinted in the heat of the Alburion sun. Julstavius and his business partner Rex walked through the market looking to purchase a fresh, hot lunch. They’d not come for the slavers, but the human caught Julstavius’s eye. He’d no need for another slave, but something deep within him responded to her valiant struggle.

Without a wife and children, his needs were simple so he only had two slaves. A Belonian house slave, she was a small winged docile creature named Uika, and a tall strong male from an unknown world he called Bink. He’d tried to teach the strong but simple creature to speak. Even with the basic translator implanted behind his ear, it was useless. Jul decided long ago that the creature wasn’t capable of language. He treated his slaves well, and they served him loyally. He knew men who raped and beat their slaves, but he didn’t believe abuse was effective for teaching. Pain was an important part of sex to his people, but Jul had no stomach for cruelty and force.

The slaver dragged the human creature across the wood platform. Jul could see her injuries from the pointless struggle. Humans were very similar to his kind because of the similarity in planet distance from the sun. It made human a popular choice for prostitution and medical research. The off-world slaver pulled her to her feet. Her body was without a blemish, excluding her injuries, and her very lovely expressive face looked out at the crowd even with the humiliation of naked servitude. Her big dark eyes appeared very intelligent, but it was that noble pride that made the pain on her face all the lovelier. Jul’s cock grew hard just looking at her.

Humans were prized slaves, never cheap. Well matched to Alburionian people they could even pass with a good tan, ridge implants, and a shaved body. Her soft looking hair intrigued him, and the tufted of identically shaded pubic hair between her legs only served to make him harder.

“I don’t know why they don’t shave those creatures before the auction.” Rex’s words snapped Jul out of his lust.

“I like it. Exotic and soft. Have you ever felt a human’s hair before?”

“Once, and it was a turn on, however I’d hate to let something with so much hair cook for me.”

“I doubt she’ll be in the kitchen of her owner much.”

Rex laughed. “Good point.”

They bought soft bread filled with fresh meat and vegetables from a vendor, but Jul couldn’t help watching the auction of the human while he ate. Rex smirked at his uncharacteristic interest. Jul ignored his friend’s knowing look.

She pulled away from the fingers inspecting her as curious buyers came up to the platform to look at her teeth and touch her body. A thick-around-the-middle aging man pinched one of her nipples until she screamed in pain.

Jul threw the rest of his lunch in a compose bin. His appetite gone, he made his way through the crowd. Another curious buyer ran his finger though her silky pubic hair, causing her to gasp and kick out at the man.

Someone in the crowd shouted jovially, “I thought you said she was docile?” This brought laughter from the crowd, but a hard slap to the girl from the slaver.

Jul had seen enough. “Stop, back away. What’s the price?”

“Ah, an eager buyer. You have a good eye, sir. One thousand perciples of a deni for the Slave

Several in the crowd grumbled the price was too high.

“I’ll take her,” Jul replied without hesitation.

“What are you doing?” Rex sounded shocked.

“Making a purchase in the market today, it seems.” Jul didn’t want to admit he’d no idea why he was doing it.

“One thousand fifteen perciples of a deni.” Rex threw out the bid and winked at his friend. Jul didn’t like the game.

“What are you doing?” It was Jul’s turn to sound confused.

“I’m making a purchase in the market,” he mimicked.

You can buy my book from Beachwalk Press and all fine eBook retailers on the web.  Learn more about me at http://ashlynnmonroe.com and I’d love to hear from you at authorashlynnmonroe@gmail.com.  Thanks for taking the time to read my post.  If you’d like the romance trading card for this book email me your address and I’ll get one out to you in the mail asap!

03 August 2011

Hustle (8-3-11)

It's Wednesday again! Without further ado, here's the story, and don't forget to check out the other fantabulous flashers:


Hustle and bustle, bustle and hustle. Never stop moving in the battle to leap forward in this crazy world.

She watches as the people rush by, carefully selecting her next playmate. Innocent brown eyes and dimples make her a vulnerable target, and the rotten men leap towards her on any normal day, eager to taste of her milky white skin.

Unfortunately, they never get quite so far.

A man catches her eye as she sits on the park bench. He’s tall and handsome in his sharp business suit, chatting into his cell phone and eyeing her down with a voracious hunger. He can’t match her, though. She throws him a shy smile and walks away slowly, making sure he’s following her in the burgeoning dusk.

Like a lost puppy, he is.

“Hey,” he says, jogging up beside her. She slows her pace to let him catch up. “Are you walking alone?”

“Yeah,” she replies with a soft voice, tucking hair behind her ear.

“Can I walk with you?” She nods and he falls into step beside her as the last of the sunlight dips behind the horizon. “What’s your name?”

“That’s inconsequential.” He stops walking suddenly, in exactly the right spot in front of her dark alley. She shoves him into the shadows, and he lurches backwards a few steps. “What I want to know is, will you love me?”

“Wait – What?” His fear is palatable in the air, and she licks her lips on the salty sweet aroma.

“After you rape me, will you love me?”

“I’m not – I would never…I wasn’t going to rape you.” He throws his hands up in defense, letting a nervous chuckle escape him as he gauges his exits. She’s limited them to one. Straight through her.

“Oh, but you would.” She smiles in the darkness, her teeth elongating from her gums into daggers. “And then you would leave me to rot in the corner like the rest.”

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he says, backing away from her as she advanced.

“Why won’t you love me? Am I not pretty enough?”

His hands shake as he tries to bat her away. “You’re crazy.”

“Love me.” She grabs his shirt and drags him closer, letting her tooth graze his cheek and draw sweet blood.

“I don’t want to. I won’t.”

“Yes, you will.”

He lunges forward, trying to jet past her, but she catches his ankle and rips through his Achilles tendon. Blood sprays across the alley, and he gives a strangled cry of pain as she pulls him towards her.

“Where are you going, my love?” she whispers.

He says nothing, but just sobs under her hands as she snakes her way up his legs. “What are you going to do to me?”

“I’ll make you love me.”

“You can’t do that.”

She chuckles, relishing in his trembling body. “Sure I can.” He tries to scream as her fangs rip through his abdomen, but only a strangled gurgle comes out. The sweet essence of his blood gushes into her mouth, and she can barely contain her excitement at the sound of his beating heart just beyond the tender skin.

“You know what they say. The best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”


The other flashers:

Chris Quinton (m/m)

Victoria Blisse (m/f)

Lily Sawyer (m/m)