Tag: Contemporary

Flash: Pink Strip

Erin Penn

The strip was pink. So much for leaving Jeannie at the altar. The revenge planned for so long needed modification. He hated the bitch, but governments get antsy when babies are kidnapped out of hospitals. Cops don’t care if the person doing the taking is the true parent.

Jeannie was not raising a Katz after the humiliation she had inflicted on his sister. The wench was vile.

What could he do to get the babe and not go to prison? How to poison the spoiled princess and save the babe from the goblin queen?

Ah, the beginning of an idea started. Time to buy a rose for the monster-to, er, … mother-to-be.

(words 112 – originally appearing at Breathless Press 6/9/2013 for the 1/22/12 Sunday Fun – See the picture that inspired the story! – As I do not know the copyright permissions, I have not copied it here; Republished new blog format 6/9/2019)

Flash: Slow Learner

Erin Penn 2 Comments

Photo from freedigitalphotos.net

 

Trouble. The minute she walked through the door. It followed her wake like a noxious cloud of perfume. For a second you almost like it, the scent, the situation, her, then it just overwhelms. If she stays around long enough, you almost get used to it. When she leaves, you breathe freely and realize just how bad it got.

I dated the woman for fourteen months, nine days, four hours. And now she stood at my door yet again after two hundred days, seven minutes of clean breathing. I hadn’t bother filling the void she left. Some holes are meant to be empty and the one she had left was one.

She needed help. When hadn’t she? I stood with the door half-open, me propped against the slab, blocking the way in, debating how stupid I was about to be.

Because … damn it.

I drown in her blue eyes. And the door opens just long enough for her to slip in.

(words 162; first published 3/23/2014; republished new blog format 6/2/2019)

Flash: Governmental Obligations

Erin Penn

Taken from a sales website – the link should be good if you are interested

As citizens in America, we are only asked to do three things – vote, serve jury duty and, of course, pay taxes. While I have never had a customer with the below occupation, I have often wondered what it would be like to process such a person. After all, everyone needs to file taxes if they are employed. The below flash is completely fictional.

Governmental Obligations

“I’m sorry, can you repeat the question?” I look back from my desktop at the rather plain woman. Pretty, as all young girls are pretty, but with a face bare of makeup, her nondescript blondish hair pulled back in a ponytail, loose jeans and an oversized T-shirt printed with the logo of a national sports bar chain, nothing stood out about her. Except her flip flops, but even those were the popular style where the strips were bound together by a silly jewel. Rinestones and rubber always struck me as a strange combination. The ruby exactly matched her vivid red toenails.

Her eyes crinkled, smiled as some people put it. I could see where she would be striking with mascara darkening her nearly blonde eyelashes and eye-shadow forcing her eyes to a particular color. As is, the brown, green, blue mix washed out into the surrounding pale winter flesh. “I was wondering if I could claim my whips against my self-employment.”

“Well…we are required by law to claim all income AND all expenses for your self-employment. Are your whips ever used for your personal pleasure?” I managed to keep my voice firmly nonjudgmental and accountant flat. I had hit the zone before I had even walked past the waiting line to unlock the doors for the day, sleep deprivation in mid-March does provide some benefits, but she was threatening my calm.

“P-leeease,” she drew out the word,  “I’m a dominatrix by trade. Like most people, I leave my work at work.”

“So the answer is no.” Taxes required precision, and she hadn’t actually answered the question.

She sighed. “I leave my whips in my dungeon. And I only use the dungeon for work.”

I nodded. We had already covered her office rental. “I assume you have the receipts for them?” I hadn’t seen whips or leather goods among the other purchases, which included everything from business cards to scented oils for resale to Internet fees.

“I used my business credit card for them, but I wasn’t sure if I could count them so I didn’t break them out separate.”

I flipped through the printout she made from her American Express website, finding the annotated bills. “So February, $130, and then again May $300, and once more in September, another $200. That seems like a lot of whips.”

“They break over time. Not from whipping people, but just sound effects. Everyone loves the crack.” She shivered for effect.  “I use lotion to keep the leather from subtle, but eventually it gives.”

“Okay, so these won’t qualify for depreciation since they last less than a year. I am going to put them under office supplies.”

“Sound perfect. Now about the chains,” she pointed to another purchase on her credit card statements, “does this group qualify as furniture since they are permanently attached to the walls?”

(words 473; first published 4/8/2014; republished new blog format April 21, 2019)

M is for Marathon

Erin Penn 3 Comments

“You know I do marathons. right? Something to do after getting out of the marines, right?” Neil glanced quickly in Jazz’s direction to see her nod. “Well, I fell down on the last one. What with Elisa being pregnant and Courtney going nuts over getting a script actually being produced after so many options picked up and timed out, I didn’t prep like I should have and sure as hell didn’t carbio load the day of. So I got to mile fourteen and keeled over. Well, not keeled…” He shook his head. “Nah, I really did. I fell and couldn’t get up. They fluid pumped me and then I got to spend the next two days while Elisa and Courtney took care of me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Their bedside manners could use work.” He shrugged slightly. “They yelled at me for being an idiot as much as kissed my boo-boos.”

“That sounds like them.” Jazz had been friends with Elisa since preschool, and with Courtney since her best friend married her a decade ago.

“So I guess I should give up on marathons, right?”

“What? No!” Jazz turned her body toward the ex-marine. “You love it. Just because you didn’t make it to the end, you still did fourteen miles. I couldn’t do that on my best day back when I used to run track.”

“I’m just going by what you are say, right?” Neil’s lips pulled up at the corner. “That when you fail a marathon, you are a failure and should stop trying, right?”

“Huh?”

“You ran a marathon today. You prepped for it, did everything right, and didn’t make it to the end, right?” Neil looked over for a second. Jazz frowned at him. “You are going to need days to recover from it, right? Self-care, exhaustion, recovery time. right?”

“Yesss,” she hissed, seeing what he was trying to do. “Learn you story-telling from Courtney?” she commented sarcastically.

“Nah, from staff sergeants. Just not adding the run around the far flag pole to think things over part,” he said turning at the first intersection into her neighborhood.

Jazz smiled. “And I am grateful for that. I didn’t run a marathon though. I just went to a party.”

“Nope. You ran a marathon.” Neil declared while he pulled up in front of her house. “Potatoe, patotoe. You are one of the bravest people I know, because every day is a marathon for you, and you try to do it every day. Sometimes you fall down, but you get up again. And that is incredible, right?” He stared at her until she nodded, then he hit the button to back door of the minivan and climbed out. “So let’s get you in, make sure everything is good for you, and get you set up for your next race, okay?”

“You don’t need to–“

“It’s what friends do, right?” Neil pulled out her walker out of the back.

Courtney bounced up behind him after parking Jazz’s car in the drive. “What do friends do?”

“Stuff.” Neil responded, leaving Courtney to close the raised door while he brought around the walker as Jazz got out of the vehicle.

“Yep, we do stuff for friends.” Courtney said looking back and forth between Neil and Jazz. “What are we doing?”

“Getting Jazz into her house and making sure she is good to go before we go, right?”

“Right. We got time for that.”

Jazz shook her head. “I don’t want to be a both–“

“Marathon. You ran a marathon.” Neil interrupted, putting out an arm to indicate Jazz had a choice of walking to her front door, or him helping her to her front door.

Courtney followed them. “Oh, god. He didn’t give you the marathon story, did he?”

“He’s done it before?” Jazz asked, stopping to get her breath after going up her front ramp, covering the issue by searching her purse for the key.

“Elisa keeps trying to help.”

“She is making a small human being for us.” Neil pointed out. “That takes a lot.” He held open the door while Jazz and Courtney went in as Courtney and Neil said together, “Marathon.”

They looked over at Jazz and smiled, clearly waiting. And she shrugged, guessing they do this all the time with Elisa. Together the three of them said, “Marathon.”

Jazz continued. “Okay, I won’t argue anymore.”

“Tonight,” Courtney smirked at the family friend, clearly having heard those exact words from her spouse. Elisa and Jazz had been two peas in a pod while growing up.

“Tonight,” she agreed. “No promises for tomorrow.”

“You know we love you.” Courtney said, hugging her.

“Yeah, I’m getting that.”

“So what do you need us to do, because we ain’t leaving until we do something, right?”

“I got the nurse’s aide coming Monday, so I don’t need much.” Jazz commented looking at the mess around her house. Abandoned projects, dishes, and clothes from the last two weeks. She reminded herself sometimes giving people the opportunity to help is as important as helping. “If you could clean up the dining room table and help me put things away from the party, that should get me through until she comes.”

“That’s it?” Neil asked.

“You sure that is all you need?” Courtney said as she picked up the trash on the table.

“Yeah,” she lied. While it wasn’t all she needed, it was all she could bring herself to accept.

The End

 

A to Z Short Story List Breakdown

Rainbow Spectrum (A to F)

Marathon Party (G to M)
4/8/2019 – G is for Gobi
4/9/2019 – H is for Horse
4/10/2019 – I is for Sherbet
4/11/2019 – J is for Jazz
4/12/2019 – K is for Keeper
4/13/2019 – L is for Loss
4/15/2019 – M is for Marathon

Next: Trigger: Cutting

Flash: Gold Bands

Erin Penn 2 Comments

Image acquired from the Interweb

“Tell me again how you have more in your 401K than I do?” Amanda asked with an edge to her voice as she nervously shifted the prenuptial agreement paperwork in her lap. “I’ve been working twice as long as you.”

Jeffrey glanced to the driver in their hired car, deciding that keeping his pregnant not-girlfriend distracted was more important than financial discretion. “I only have you beat by $20, but mostly I just been putting in the max since I’ve been hired.”

“So have I.”

“No, sweet cheeks,” Jeffrey said cautiously. At five months and on her second month answering to Jennings and without Aksel’s steadying influence, the barracuda never was far from the surface. He really wished Aksel came to Los Angles with Amanda, but he had stayed in Copenhagen to help the next manager. Or, more accurately, stayed with his wife and children in the country of his birth. “I started putting aside the full maximum by law, it’s like $15,000 or something crazy like that, as soon as I was hired. You’ve been flying around the world, making business happen, and setting aside the company match. Which for a manager is nice, but not the maximum allowed.”

Shifting through the paperwork again, she looked for something else to complain about. “My lawyer said you did everything utterly fair and reasonable.” She snarled at the legalize in her lap, working her way down the pile to their mutual wills.

“You told me what you wanted, and I did it.”

Amanda had shocked him with a ring when he picked her up with Mandi at the airport when she first arrived in America. She didn’t have time, working on bringing everything up and running for the new office and management, so he had arranged for the prenuptial and the wedding and the dozen of other tasks involved in combining two lives, three lives, or whatever the number was now.

“Of course you did. You are a god, and you always do everything perfect.”

Jeffrey leaned into the growling woman to whisper in her ear, “And I will prove that again tonight after I become Mr. Reid-Hall.”

A blush happened across her bosom and raced up both sides of her neck to color her cheeks. She whispered back, “How the hell are you making me feel sexy? I’m a blimp.”

“Yep, but I love blimps, my Mistress Troglodyte. Especially when I get to hold them close instead of just looking at them on the other side of the world.”

The car slowed outside of the chapel where Jeffrey had arranged for their wedding. Outside stood his mother. Mandi squirmed out of her arms as soon as she saw her parents climb out of the hired car. The toddler raced two steps ahead of her fall until she landed in her Daddy’s arms who swung her up and around. Amanda watched the brown, wiggling mass of giggles settle against Jeffrey with a bemused smile. The corners of her lips lifted up in what Jeff called her “gentle” smile, the one she saved just for Mandi and him.

Jeff turned to Amanda, the engagement ring on his finger sparkling in the Los Angeles sun, and asked, “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Amanda rubbed her rounding belly.

“We don’t have to do this.” Jeffrey looked at her, concerned. “I don’t need it, and Mom can tell the Major to stuff it.”

“Yes, we do.” She shifted her shoulders, straightening the tailored white jacket. “It protects the children in case anything happens.”

Jeffrey understood that is what she convinced herself this was about, but a variation of prenuptials and wills could work just as well for the legal aspects of asset combination and protection for the children. No, she wanted to be married, and more importantly, wanted to be married to him. She insisted he find a house here and got his primary work location transferred here, even though she will be overseas about as often as she would be in town. The few hours she was here and not working, she wanted to spend with him.

He wasn’t sure he would ever hear the words, “I love you.” from her, not with what had happened in her past. But at least he could say them to her now and have her believe him. And for him, “You are a god.” works pretty fine.

Together Amanda and he entered the chapel, with his daughter on his hips and his son being carried by his wife. His mother there to act as a witness. Inside the electronics were set to send the ceremony back to Utah and Denmark to their friends, and across the world to the half-dozen countries his family lived or were stationed. Trish, the new technical division manager, nodded as they walked in, indicating everything was good to go.

And everything was good to go.

The End and the Beginning

(Words 818; first published 4/14/2019)

 

The complete Red Mug series:
3/17/19 – Red Mug
3/24/19 – Green Cheeks
3/31/19 – Copenhagen Blue
4/7/19 – Clear Glass
4/14/19 – Gold Bands