Flash: Muffins in the Morning

Photo by Jason Briscoe on Unsplash

“So what is today’s conference?” Merry asked while tying on the apron over her string bikini.

“The Forest are the men looking uncomfortable, and the women who are already well-buzzed are Home Contained.” Barack said while shifting an army of mimosa glasses onto one tray, working on his side of the bar near the hot spas. Hard at work on the other side of the bamboo appearing barrier, Aggie, the other waitress, arranged bite-size poppy seed bagels topped with avocado slices onto napkins with the cabana’s logo imprinted napkins. The final member of their team, Josh, was working the in-pool bar. It was always easier when the merman got assigned the pool duty. At the moment he was mostly swimming alone in the mid-morning sun while the guests watched from the poolside. Two kids from non-conference attendees slashed in the shallow end.

Merry shouldered the loaded tray with a soft charm said quickly under her breath to help the glasses stay steady and give her a smidgin of extra strength. She would pay for the magic later, they all did, but it boosted tips and prevented breakage. Aggie grabbed the food tray and the portable stand before leading the way to where a bunch of middle-aged witches and hearthwives with more money than sense giggled. After distributing the twenty champagne glasses to the direct sales specialists, Merry made her way to where a man had snapped his fingers at her.

Unlike the women in their bright variety of bathing suits and sunwear, comfortable in bodies that varied from having a personal trainer available on call to celebrating a love of food, the men wore nearly uniform green trunks with the logo for the international amusement park organization embroidered on their bottom hems. Bellies on display ranged from likely using the in-park gyms regularly without missing too much desk time to likely forgetting about the wife and children at home because of the office overtime. All of them sucked their bellies back as Merry walked through the tables, chairs, and lounges. She had been hired for her beauty and body and survived the probation period because of her competency and ability to master the minor serving spells the hotel required. In another two years her looks will fade enough from bikini-ready to transfer to an indoor waitress, but, for now, twenty-two and busty kept her plenty busy.

Beside the snapper laid out someone completely different from the rest of the Forest crowd, though he sported the same dark green trunks. Though on him, they looked unique, not a uniform. He must be a fae or some other magical decent; no human looked that good. Merry forcibly ripped her eyes from the shaped muscles and the skin that nearly, but didn’t quite, glitter in the sun to focus on the person who summoned her. “How may I help you?”

“About time,” the snapper said, “A beer for me and Mr. Monoceros will have a Blueberry Smoothie Smash.”

“Of course. Would you like our breakfast Sunrise Sandwich or a Beach Bundle as well?” Merry went for the upsell.

“If I did, I would have told you.”

“Of course sir.” She reached into the apron pocket to grasp the ordering stone.

“Actually, some solid food sounds delightful,” the sunbather interjected. “What would you recommend for a vegetarian, something grainy.”

Megan allowed her eyes to return to the younger appearing man. White-blond hair curled around where his face leaned against the cabana’s lounger like a lion’s mane. In the center of his forehead twinkled a white piece of ivory or gemstone. Oh, he was that Monoceros. It finally hit her. While he was not the richest person she had ever served at the resort, he would be one of the fingers on her first hand if she started counting.

“If you were in the Oceanside, our restaurant on the first floor, I would recommend any of our oatmeals.” She posed, turning shoulders toward him. Light flirting wasn’t just allowed, it was required. Merry knew she was as much a part of the atmosphere and decorations as the potted plants and expensive tiles. “You did say vegetarian, not vegan, correct?”

The man wiggled up to full sitting, removing the glasses hiding his golden eyes. “Yes. Honey, eggs, milk, are all fine.”

“Then I think you will love our multi-grain muffins. We have one topped with an apple sauce, and so moist it barely crumbles.”

“Delightful. Bring a selection if you have other fruit toppings.”

“Strawberry, blueberry, and banana. But the apple topping is the best. I will place the order sir. It will take several minutes to run them out from the kitchen. We can’t keep them properly warm out here.” Completely pulling out the order stone, she rolled it in her hand and concentrated on the drink and food order. “I will bring them as soon as they are ready. Would you like butter or honey with them?”

“Both if you have them.” The owner of the Forest eyes started as her feet and slowly worked his way up her bare legs to where her apron barely covered her bikini while she recorded his preferences, noting the name sewn on the fabric. “Merry, when do you get off work today?”

***

The waitress licked her lips, her eyes skimming over his body. Fleet bent one leg up to rest an arm on his knee. He knew the position tightened the little fabric he was wearing across his groin, not that the company green fabric did much to hide his interest. He studied her face as she kept it still, but her pupils expanded to cover much of her brown eyes.

“I’ll be working Poolside all day, if you need anything else.” Her voice admirably remained steady. A smile brightened her face, one he called the Forest Smile of Welcome when they trained new park employees. She gave a slight bow to disengage and walked toward the overdone tropical bar near the spas where Kouris and Moralis shared a bubbling pool. Neither one back worked well, one because of military service and the other for a drop he had taken servicing rides back when he first started working for the Forest back in the seventies.

“Evan, start a background check on that waitress, the normal routine complete with what type of flowers and jewelry she likes. Have her in my rooms after she gets off work.”

The man at his side frowned at him. “Need I remind you about the modern rules?”

Fleet watched the female picked up their two drinks from the bartender and start returning their way. Her long legs gracefully shifted toe-to-heel through the light morning crowd, hips swaying in her gait. Biting short a squeal, Fleet stood and took a step to where his assistant sat. “Pass on the request to the security team.” Roussopoulos threatened to quit after the last time he brought a woman unannounced to his quarters.

Evan shied back, turning his head to the side in acceptance before pulling his cell phone out of the resort monogramed carryall beside him. He finished the call in time to accept his beer from the waitress. Merry turned to give Fleet his purple gin-laced smoothie.

“Evan reminded me of certain rules of consent,” Fleet nodded toward his assistant behind the waitress. “May I ask you some questions?”

About a foot shorter than him, the woman leaned back her head to focus on his face. She arranged her face in the Forest Welcome again. “I’ll be happy to give you any recommendations of the services we have available on the premises.”

“Is it against the rules to sleep with the clients?”

Her eyes did a quick narrow, then returned to bland pleasantness. For a second, Fleet considered switching what he wanted out of Merry. She would make a formable receptionist guarding Evan’s and the other upper management assistants. Maybe he could get both: a roll in the hay and someone to replace Vidales when the man left to take care of the child he and his partner were adopting.

Merry tilted her head to the side and raised her eyebrows, but didn’t answer.

“No means no, and I will accept that without repercussions, but I do want to make sure it is a ‘no’.” Fleet took a sip of his drink. “Are you attracted to me?”

“Yes.” Her lips changed from a polite smile to a more general one.

“She actually can give a straight answer, good to know.” He placed the drink on Evan’s table, before lifting a hand to tuck a lock of hair which had escaped Merry’s bun. Tracing a finger along her chin, he asked, “Do you have any commitments which would prevent you spending an evening with me?”

Merry’s eyes focused to the side. “I’m scheduled the opening shift tomorrow, so I will need to report to work at six, and I will need to be asleep by midnight at the latest, ten o’clock would be better.”

“Will spending the night moaning against my cock get you fired?”

***

Oh, well, that is a question isn’t it? Merry thought to herself. During orientation when she started working summers three years ago, everyone had unofficially been given permission, even encouragement, to “work” with the staff and the guests, so long as you didn’t date the people on your team. If you absolutely had to date people on your team, the Fae owners required one of the participants to switch teams.

She had played Check the Springs with several single men and one couple before, but no one in Mr. Monoceros’ tax bracket. “No, though I will have to inform my shift manager and I am not allowed to sign any non-disclosure documents. If you wish, I can show you the ones I was required to sign to work here.”

The rich man’s golden eyes glanced over her shoulder at … Evan, was it?

“We reviewed them before booking the premises. They are reasonable. No one here is allowed to talk to the press. Fae contracts, airtight. Police officers, yes, but not the press.” The snapper said behind her.

“I don’t care about the press,” golden-eyes said.

“I really wish you did,” muttered Evan.

The stone in her apron vibrated. “Oh, that is your muffins. Give me a second.” Merry broke away from the men to walk swiftly to where one of the Oceanside team brought out a covered tray.

Observing her surroundings as she moved, she noticed Josh had climbed out of the water and replaced Barak behind the main bar, so the bartender and Aggie could cover the rest of the guests. She mouthed sorry to him as she rushed past. Standing was possible for him, out of the water his fins became legs, but standing was still painful and only got worse the longer he balanced on two legs.

She would need to tell her team everything after Mr. Monoceros left, but they would cover for her.

*You get it, girl.* Josh sent back as he created more mimosas for the thirsty ladies.

Unlike most humans, Merry could hear merfolk in and out of water.  Barak descended from sea sharks, and they all had chipped in to get a talisman tuned to Aggie’s vibes to keep her in the loop. Valentine, the supervisor, was a member of the Fae court who owned the resort. The other two members of the team were new this year, fresh from the local high school just like she had been when she had started, and the human flavor of mortal. They couldn’t hear the sendings of the magical part of the team, and KC, bless them, fumbled the simplest of charms and had been relegated to bussing in the afternoon and evening. They wouldn’t be fired, because of the Employment Equality Act, but they wouldn’t be hired again next year.

One busy season, then a rehire probation through another busy season. And if you made it through those two, with the approval of the Fae Court, you arrived. A golden ticket at the resort for the rest of your life if you want it. Merry had her plan in place, work Poolside then Oceanside then move to the third floor’s Mushroom Ring where the best servers worked. Live in the staff huts and bank everything she can. If she failed as a server, switch to the housekeep side or maybe the front desk, though the Court limited those seats for the Fae. Retire between forty and fifty just like her mother and travel the world.

Walking back, Merry figured her mother’s cruise ship should be somewhere in the Mediterranean, docking in Santorini later today or tomorrow.

She kneeled gracefully beside the small poolside table and slide the tray onto the glass and metal stand after Evan removed his empty mug. “Bon Appetit.” Merry lifted the lid off the tray to reveal a dozen muffins plus small pitchers of the various sauces and honey she had promised, a piece of butter shaped into fan flowers. Still kneeling, she lifted one of the plates from the platter, picked up an oat and zucchini muffin, drizzled the apple sauce over it, and offered it to Mr. Monoceros where he now sat in a chair beside Evan.

Taking the plate from her, he said, “Just to let you know, I will not expect this kind of service when you aren’t working.”

“Believe me, If I am on my knees for you later today, I will expect the actions to be returned.”

***

 

“That can be arranged.”  Fleet took a bite of the muffin and tapped a foot at the flavor.

Merry smiled up at him. “Good, hmm? Honeysuckle is our morning baker.”

“How much to steal them away for one of my restaurants?” he mused as he finished off the muffin.

When he reached for the next, Merry tapped his hand and picked up his plate. She wiped it down, chose another muffin, this more purple tinged than the others where the first one had a light green tinge. “Considering she is one of the consorts to the queen, more than you can afford,” she said opening up the muffin and dropping in a bit of butter into it, before pouring strawberry syrup over the lot and returning the plate to him. “But one of her apprentices is about to become a journeyman this year.” Merry picked up another plate and looked over at his assistant; she whispered a word under her breath before asking, “Any nut allergies?”

“No.” Evan responded cautiously.

“Let me get you a light ale … no, I think you want coffee about now, one sugar, no cream, Turkish roast should work well.”

“Okay.”

With a plate in her left hand, the server tucked her right into the apron for a moment. She nodded. “Now, let’s get you fed too.” This time she picked the muffin with the least bits and bops to it, almost no visible seeds, and poured a very slight amount of honey on the top and passed Evan the plate. “Anyway Dolag Mac a’ Bhacstair is a half-Brownie and loves to bake but hates water. Her family comes from the highlands. If you have opening inland, or near forests—”

“All my parks are near forests.” Fleet interrupted.

“Right, of course. My apologies.”

He waved his hand. “You couldn’t know.”

Merry bowed her head carefully, to a precise angle that struck Fleet as very Fae. He wondered how long she had worked for the St. Louis Court. The head tilt body language of the court teased its way out of his long memory, basically it translated, *with all due respect, you are fucking wrong.* A head tilt completely respectful and rude at the same time, but that was Fae for you.

“It is in the name, the Forest. Pine Forest Park, Oak Forest Park, Black Forest Park.”

Goddess save him from Fae fastidiousness; they made great lawyers with their wordplay, but their demand of exact precision could be mind-numbing. “You are forgiven. And yes, I believe I can find an opening near a highland environment Mac a’ Bhacstair would enjoy.”

“She takes after her mother more than her father and bleeds red.”

Meaning full mortal. Fleet frowned. The half-brownie’s magic wouldn’t be as strong and might not work at all away from her mentor. And even if she did have full magic, he would only have a meager three or four decades of use out of the elf-kin. Less than he would like, but more than he had at the moment. He waited until Evan finished his muffin before saying, “See if there is interest.” Evan nodded and typed a note into his phone.

Merry prepped them both another plate, and edged a cup of coffee toward his assistant. He hadn’t even noticed it being delivered.

“Please serve yourself one. I don’t think we can finish all of these before we need to leave to start prepping for the opening ceremonies.”

“I ate before coming on duty,” she demurred before bouncing in place, sending her thighs jiggling.

And her breasts based on where Evan’s eyes ended up. Fleet pulled his lips back from his teeth in warning. Evan glanced away, taking a sip of his coffee. Merry didn’t notice their byplay, or at least ignored it.

“It’s hard enough keeping the weight off with all the great food around here. I absolutely cannot snack during working hours.”

Evan’s watch emitted two beeps. “Speaking of prepping for opening ceremonies,” he said tapping off the alarm.

“Evan, please get her contact information and coordinate with my schedule for us to meet tonight.” Fleet stood and helped Merry stand from where she kneeled, before lifting her hand further to kiss it, never breaking contact with her deep brown eyes, the pupils expanding to completely cover the green edges near them, leaving only a brown rivaling the bark of the oldest trees in his original forest. “Merry, Evan is my assistant. It isn’t that I don’t want to figure out the best time for us to meet, it is just I have no idea what my schedule for this week is. He or Rousso are going to be leading me around this building for the next three days. But…” Fleet turned his attention to Evan, “I would like Merry to get all the time which isn’t structured. All of it as she is available, understood?”

(words 3,075; first published 6/7/2024)

Romantasy Series

  1. Muffins in the Morning (6/5/2022)

Flash: Prom Wait

Photo by Obi – @pixel6propix on Unsplash

The parent photo shoot took less time than expected, even with five pairs of parents, a singleton who drove in from a different state just for the day, and four grandparents between them and their dates, so Daphne and Rozzlindra were stuck watching from the car as their prom dates did a quick pickup basketball game. It sucked because Rozz just lettered and would have stomped their combined asses if she wasn’t wearing a mermaid skirt.

(words 76, first published 9/14/2022  – from a picture prompt for a Facebook writing group. Aim is about 50 words)

Flash: All the Way Back

Photo by Orkhan Farmanli on Unsplash

Chapter One: A Mother

A big black SUV pulled up to the curb outside my suburban house. I glance over to where my two kids are playing in their wading pool as I pretend to turn off my hose. It was never on; I had been practicing elemental water magic taking care of the roses, hollies, and yews surrounding my home. The magic still dripped around me from the plants, ready to be called up. I eased back the energy when I recognized the person stepping out the back but didn’t dismiss it entirely. She wasn’t suppose to be here today.

“Hey Danny!” My wife waved at me before saying something to those still in the vehicle. After she slammed the door shut, the dark oversized vehicle pulled out. When she started waddling my way, our youngsters, upon seeing their mother, leaped out of their pool and streaked toward her across the grass.

“Brian, be careful,” I yell, setting aside the hose and closing the distance.

Our oldest took a stutter step at my command, which mean Tyla only got hit by twenty pounds of exuberance instead of the combined sixty. Emma wrapped her arms around both of Tyla’s legs upon contact, but my very pregnant wife managed to remain standing. Brian took a gentler approach, but velco’ed on the side opposite his sister none-the-less. They had missed her.

When I got in range, I pecked her check. “You’re home early.”

She was three days ahead of schedule. I ran a quick charm behind her back, while I grasped her arm. Tyla wasn’t nervous or scared, but that meant little with a seer wife. She processed things years before I even know a danger is coming. The lack of anger though, that was a good sign. Since coming in her full confidence after college, her temper shook mountains. The core stillness, on the other hand, like waiting for a sword to be drawn, that didn’t bode well.

She gave me a twisted smile indicating she knew I had cast an empath linkup. It rivaled the expression on the snake torque I gave her during our wedding ceremony five years ago, its gray eyes sparkling in the mid-day sun, the gleam matching her eyes. “I missed you too much.”

I leaned in close to whisper in her ear, “Bullshit.” The Sisters never do anything without a plan.

“You say the sweetest things.” Tyla laughed, a light blush rising, before grabbing me by the back of my head and pulling me in for a deep kiss. After letting me come up for air, her voice dropped into a growl. “Let’s get inside, hmm?”

Damn. I run a finger over her lips and she gives them a quick bite. Her gray eyes wink white a moment before returning to normal.

Damn. Damn. “Let me put away the hose and clean up the mess.”

“No problem. Come on Emma, Brian, let’s get you cleaned up for dinner.” Tyla herded the kids inside.

Outside, I did the visible cleanup. I also activated all the protections I had built up outside the house over the years; stone walks, water features, a firepit in the back for my elemental specialty and likely well-planned for by any Purists observing us, but the true protection laid in the plants. One of the professors from the university helped me with the landscaping. The yews and hollies snapped to attention and the rose thorns extended, dripping oily allergens as obnoxious as poison ivy.

***
Chapter Two: A Mission

Daniel finished putting the children to bed while I cleared the table of leftovers. I checked the chore chart, grateful once again his willingness to work with my inability to keep days straight. A big red rectangle picked Thursday out of the background. Laundry.

I moved to the laundry room where a half dozen small piles scattered around the floor. No baskets were in the sorting or folding areas. I opened the dryer to discover a pile of pink leggings and blue jeans, so pulled over an empty basket. While I moved the items from the washer to the dryer, my husband joined me, pulling over the basket of the finished dryer clothes for folding. After turning on the dryer, I ask, “What’s next?” pointing at the piles he had sorted at some point today.

“Underwear, whites, and cottons.” He indicated two of the six piles.

I start picking them up and shoving them into the washer.

“So why are you here, really?” he asked, rolling the pink leggings with daisies into a tight tube.

I shrug. “It’s the safest place.”

He barked a laugh. “Our house? Better than the Sisters’ fortification with their guards and security systems?”

“And a big, very known location with dozens of access points.” I scrap detergent from bar we buy from an herbalist with a dulling knife into a bowl until it reaches the inside mark for a medium load. Dumping the curled soap on top of the load, I start the washer, then reach for the sharpening stone. “The Sisters decided to send some of the more vulnerable home.” I rub my huge belly; inside the baby kicked in protest of me underplaying some of the details of the heated discussion between me and the rest of my cohort of Fates.

My husband sighed deeply. “Is it starting?”

“We think so.” The sharp sounds of steel on slate fill the room as I bring the soap knife up to a keen, safe edge.

“You should be at the Fortress or at least Adheim.”

I shake my head. “No, today I’m bait.”

“What?!?”

***

Chapter Three: A Massacre

Fucking hell. She did not agree to that, did she? “What do you mean, you are bait?”

“They are attacking tonight,” my wife wiggled her hands back and forth, “in nearly all timelines. And we decided to place some of the more tasty morsels outside the Estates, me being one of the best.” She smiled deeply and winked. “Because of you. They want me, but the purists HATE you.”

As they should. Between me and her, we have stopped or disarmed every attack they made against us since the day they dropped the bomb on us during her freshman year at college. And while she always tried for the non-confrontational, non-lethal method preferred by seers, as an elementalist, I didn’t limit my options to being a nice guy. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t either. There is no way to get the children away in time.”

I grip her wrist, the one holding the honing stone. “Are they — will they be okay?”

“Usually, but not always. That will depend on you.” Tyla tapped my hand gripping her with her knife.

“What will I need to do?” I growled, not letting go.

Snatching her hand out of my grip, she turned, placing the knife on the magnet holder above the washer, out of reach of the children and the honing stone in the bag beside it. With her back turned to me, she spoke to the wall. “Don’t hold back. Whatever you do, trust me to do my part, and don’t hold back.”

Goosebumps raised on my arms and across my back. I gasp the back of her neck, turning her around. “What do you mean–”

Behind us, the wall exploded. Due to our placement between machines, I take no injury and am able to get a wind shield up in time to protect her. She looks up at me, a spell-bomb in her hands, and snarled, “Get them,” before crushing the ball between us.

A thousand memories assaulted me and instantly cleared.

“You bitch,” we say staring into the eyes of our woman.

The ball was a reincarnation charm. All memories in every life just became available to us. In this lifetime, we were a college professor and still managed to wrack up a kill count in the dozens over the past four years protecting what is ours. Our wench and our spawn.

This was our most civilized life ever.

Tyla just unleashed a monster.

“Your bitch.” She smiles her possessive snake smile with white eyes gleaming. “Go. Win.”

We summon a sword from the other side of the world from the sandy grave it had been buried in for the last five centuries. We grab her head and ravage her mouth, half of the lifetimes remembering this being as our match and soulmate. “Keep the youngins safe,” we order before jumping out the door into our backyard.

The firepit is flaring from their elementalist calling the energy forth.

My land. My magic. You are fools to attack me here.

We force the invader’s energy back, claiming dominion, returning the magic in a feedback loop spell our present life had developed. Someone screamed as their eyes boiled. The woman said not to hold back.

The man of today is worried the horrors we are about to unfurl will disgust our wench, but we know her measure. She owns the monster she has leashed with her love.

The metal elementalist memory sends the sword singing through a golem, while the water elementalist redirect water from a programmed night-time watering system to drown a driver who thought themselves safe a block away.

And the aspect of the evil creature that is ourselves which loves plants, the one who was the worst of us, rises from where we have buried him. Most of us have been simple soldiers, warriors, and killers. That lifetime had been a devoted gardening monk. Most people consider herbalists these soft, caring beings. They don’t realize how many plants are actually poisonous. That the majority of plants on this planet rather kill humans than be cultivated. During that lifetime, we communed with plants and embraced their hatred.

Daniel Hawkins, with his careful landscaping, had provided it with an army of vines, trees, and shrubs.

Three creatures leap beyond us, scrambling up the outside of the house to the girl-spawn’s window. We nod. That is the most defendable position. The woman said to trust her with her part. She could guard the children.

We turn away as three bodies fly back from the window, sparkling from electricity.

That’s our mate. Now to prove ourselves worthy of her. We roar and rush forward into the savage greenery.

(words 1,719; first published 12/28/2023)

All the Way Forward Series
1. All the Way Forward Part 1 (chapters 1-3) (8/29/2021)
2. All the Way Forward Part 2 (chapters 4-6) (10/21/2021)
3. All the Way Back (chapters 1-3) (5/1/2022)

Flash: Small Spoon

Photo by Jon Tyson on Unsplash

The musical chime indicated an incoming text. Melissa turned down the television and flipped over her phone.”Joshua?” She tapped open the message, Can I come in? glowed in the dark living room. “In, as in, now? Hmm. I guess.” A quick type of “sure” and send resulted in a knock at her apartment door.

“Agh, I didn’t think this through.” Escaping her carefully created burrito-blanket fort, Melissa pushed back the furry fabrics covering her legs and body. Her two cats and dog made mild protesting noises, deprived of her body lumps, as she tucked her feet into the slippers beside the coach. Shuffling in the oversized slippers so they wouldn’t fall off, Piglet-Too her dachshund-pit mix following, she made her way to the door and opened it to discover Joshua on the other side with two bags of Chinese, a plastic container with mini-cupcakes, and a small container of chocolate chip ice cream. “Hi,” Melissa said, the surprise of a weekday visit from one of her gaming buddies coloring her alto voice.

“Hey, rough day at work. Can I cuddle?” He dipped his head down. “No chill, no cap, I just need human touch. Brought Mongolian beef and your spicy chicken and egg thing.”

“Yeah, I got you.” She stepped to the side and let him in, watching him duck under the door jam.

He ducked again to get into the kitchen, his afro skimming the top of the casing. Melissa let him pull down her plastic bowls while she dug out some forks. White rice on bottom and the dish of their choice on top filled both bowls, with the excess going into her fridge as trade for two beers coming out. The ice cream got dumped into the freezer. She shuffled back into the living room, with Joshua following.

“Big spoon or little spoon?” she joked considering their height differences.

“Little spoon, if I can.”

She jerked to a stop and looked over her shoulder at the man having over a foot of height and nearly a hundred pounds.

“It was a very bad day.”

“Okaaaay then.” Melissa kicked off her shoes, setting her beer and bowl on the end table, then snuggled into her blankets. “Put those down,” she tapped the glass top beside her food and then opened her arms, “and come here.”

He set down his Mongolian beef, toed off his shoes and curled into her arms, a sob escaping.

Melissa pulled him deeper into the hug, letting him wiggle closer on the couch. Chaos, Dimwit, and Piglet adjusted around them. After debating a moment, not knowing how long he would need to cry it out, she changed the channel to her Spotify “No Shade Today” list, set aside her remote, and held him against her shoulder. “A Hazy Shade of Whiter” had cued up when he ran out of steam.
“Ready for food?” she asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Shifting, he reached for their cooling food. Rearranged to sit on the middle cushion, cross-legged, he started moving the food around in the bowl, getting the rice covered in the beef sauce.

Melissa took a couple bites of her Chicken Egg Foo Young. “You want to talk about it, Josh?”

“Nah, not really.” He shrugged. “It was just a typical day at the call center. It just hit hard today. How about you? How was your day?”

“You see how big my burrito pile is.” She waved a chopstick over sofa and blankets. “And I was watching Beale Street when you got here.”

Joshua grunted a small curse. “Sorry to bother you.”

“Not a bother, this is what friends are for.” She gave him a slight smile. “Besides, I forgot to eat. Too much trouble. To cook. I would have paid for that tomorrow. Now I won’t.”

“Life was easier in school, we could just pile whenever we needed.”

“But as grownups, we are expected to life alone with no connection. It’s not healthy.”

“Not even a little.” He sucked in a piece of onion.

“Can’t live with your parents, can’t live with your friends, can’t get married, can’t live in sin.”

“Frustrating as hell, no cap.”

Melissa leaned back against the sofa cushions, setting her bowl of leftover rice aside and picking up the beer. “We are human. We need the human touch.” After taking a deep pull, she transferred the beer to her left hand and picked up the remote. “Wanna watch Beale with me?”

“Yeah.” He laid out on the couch on top of the blankets, resting his face on her thigh. “You don’t mind?”

“Stay the night.” Melissa said, “We both could use it.” She clicked back to her movie and threaded her fingers through Joshua’s springy hair.

(words 787; first published 12/27/2023)

Flash: Naked Truth

Rating Mature

Work dragged all day. Every single customer it seemed needed to be the absolute worst humanity could be. Bryan forces the door to his room completely closed. He would have a devil of a time opening the ill-hung door later, but right now he has some privacy to rant.

“I don’t know why my debit card isn’t working.” … “I don’t know, maybe because it has no money.” He strips his vest and throws it in the dirty pile in the crack of space between his bed and the wall. Stocking the meats had been an entirely different disaster. He’ll have to go through the pile later and see if any were wearable for tomorrow since he didn’t have the time to get to the laundromat today.

“I need to talk to your manager.” … “No, you need to shut the fuck up.” The shirt didn’t pass the sniff test; it joins the vest. Bryan eyes scans the pile of clean laundry just inside the front door. One work shirt left. The pants were fraying at the hem but serviceable. He just needed a clean-enough vest.

His full-size mattress was only a little smaller than his entire bedroom, but at least the room had a door. He had to “pay” his mom extra to get the oversized closet by himself, but whatever.

“It’s a service dog.” … “It’s a rat that peed on the cart and the floor.” Bryan turns in the small space and leans against the wall to step out of his jeans and underwear. He needed to put another notch in the belt; even on the fast food only diet, he kept losing weight.

“Did you get the money?”

“Fuck!” Bryan screams, jumping around to find a glowing naked woman on his rumpled bed. “Daffney?”

“In the flesh,” the brunette smiles up at him. “Well, not really, but as close as it gets now.”

“You’re a ghost,” he says grabbing his flannel jacket off the wall hook to hold it in front of him.

“Yes.”

“And naked.”

“Obviously,” She shook her generous top assets, the glow bouncing from pale blue to a brighter red, really bringing out the color of her nipples. “The zombies stripped me before eating. I think the rule is you appear in the clothes you die in. Enjoy!”

Bryan backs until he hit the door. Not a long trip. He schools his face to the normal retail dead reaction he spends most of his days displaying. “Thanks,” he deadpans, trying hard to not to enjoy. Those jugs though, damn.

“You did get the money, right?”

The man coughs, sliding the jacket higher, before speaking. Eyes up on those black pools. Weren’t they blue before? “Yes, all $3,248 of it.” A sad commentary that her 23 years of life ended with only that much saved. Even sadder that it was over double what he had managed to squirrel away. “Thanks.” How does one politely look at a glowing naked woman? Bouncing. Why is she bouncing? How is she bouncing? The mattress didn’t have any spring. Fuck. “You seem happy.”

“All part of that state-you-die-in I think.” Daffney tosses her longish hair over a shoulder. “Doc Woods had me on happy pills, then the zombie drugged me before eating, and, you know, that relief of finally getting out of my home. I’m feeling very positive, even with the whole being dead thing.”

Bryan nods. “Good. That is good, right?”

“Wonderful!” Daffney rises to kneeing, the thread-worn blankets previously tangling her legs and hiding her choochie passing through her as she moves to pool below her body.

Damn, that woman was all that. Some rippling on the thighs, a few rolls across the stomach, but it just made her even bigger than life with her glow.

She frowns, considering. “It’s a bit of a downer, not having people see me other than other dead. And it isn’t even the undead, so I can’t haunt the zombies who ate me. Not that I should, they only did what we agreed to.” Daffney rises to stand on the lumpy mattress. “The biggest slap is I can’t mess with Beth or hurt Curry. I tried to punch him several times and nothing.”

“Now that would suck.” Bryan comments on autopilot, while arguing with himself. This is Daffney. Stop thinking about her that way Little Bryan. Don’t you dare. The glow rocks, says the less sane part of his head. Fuck, says the sane part realizing that it is losing the battle. The jacket fortunately hid most sins, like it did back in high school when they escaped to his room.

“Yeah. The only people who see me are other ghosts, and they don’t do much.” She stops her bounce-walking around on his mattress. “Wait … you can see me! That is so cool.”

“Fuck, my charm!” Bryan focuses on where he had kicked his jeans off. Was it in there or his wallet?

Daffney’s head tilts to the side, her black curls cascading. “Why do you need a charm, Bryan?” her voice deepening, echoing, as she asks the question.

“Um.”

“Are you a naughty boy?”

“No?”

“No?” The ghost of his only high school friend closed the space between them. “You were always good in school for some craziness but scared to go out at night.” Daffney drags a finger down his slim chest. “Now why is that?”

“Fuck.” Bryan reaches behind him to jiggle the door.

“What are you hiding?” she whispered, pressing closer, her breast flattening against his chest.

“Fuck.” the young man sighs as Daffney grips his hands to remove his jacket and tossing it behind her. It landed in the mostly clean pile.

“Well, that is definitely something that shouldn’t be hidden.” Her eyes turn completely black staring down on his dick.

He had been teased for a lot of things in the locker room but not his dick once puberty hit. Daffney gently grabs a hold of hardening member and pulls. Her touch goes beyond cool to downright icy, but his dick has never minded the cold before. In fact, her touch makes it harder than he had ever been before with anyone.

Looking up again to meet his eyes in wonder as she continued to stroke his dick, driving his lust to try to break up the debate between his sane and not-sane parts. “I can touch you. Isn’t that interesting?”

“Ye…muph” his response drowns when Daffney grabs his head with her other hand and pulls him down for a kiss.

After a few moments, he opens his mouth for her questing tongue and closes his eyes against her glow. It was everything he dreamed about during high school and never acted on, only better, because both of them knew what they were actually doing. He moves his hands to her broad hips and up to her thick waist, the right hand traveling further to find her heavy breast and starts kneading it. Daffney moans in approval. Bryan takes a moment for a deep breath before plunging back in.

She’s a ghost, the sane part of Bryan’s brain pokes in. You’re kissing a ghost.

“Shut up.” Bryan mutters as he spins Daffney around and presses her against the door.

A threshold. The not-sane part of his mind notes. The one he normally tells to shut up. The one that started talking to him when he turned sixteen. That is going to be solid for her, not like the wall. Keep her here.

Will do.

“No way,” the woman moans as Bryan lifts Daffney up to nibble at the blushing nipples. “Not if you keep that up.”

He didn’t know what she was talking about but took her words for approval, working harder at the task, sucking with his mouth on one nipple, plucking the other one with his free hand. His sanity wondered how he was holding this big woman up with one hand so easily, then she wraps her legs around him, freeing up both hands.

Sanity gives up the argument when Daffney guides his dick into her channel.

The not-sane shudders, giving way to emotion, feeling, and non-thought.

Need. Want. Moist. Cold – make warm. Ah, warm. She so warm. Good. Deeper. Push. More. Stabilize. Door. Press in harder, harder. She is screaming. Good. Come on. Come on. Go over girl. YES! More. More.

Mine, the not-sane claims. They fall on the mattress together as the second organism hits them both.

(Words 1,409; first published 2/27/2022)

Series – No Regrets, All Dead

  1. Prepping a Meal (Zombie Version) – Link to 1/25/2022
  2. You Have Mail – Link to 2/6/2022
  3. Naked Truth – Link to 2/20/2022