Flash: Green Cheeks

Coffee Mug available on Zazzle.com

“Hey sweet cheeks, how are you … whoa, you look awful.” Jeffrey stared at the laptop he had moved to the kitchen for his weekly call to Amanda. He figured he could get the day’s dishes done while waiting and had nearly completed drying them before she came online nearly forty minutes late.

Blurry eyes, looking worse than her New Year’s hangover, bore through the screen from the other side of the world. Both elbows were on the home office desk, her hands holding the mug he had sent her with the gauge going down the sign with increments of “Don’t talk, Still not human, I will growl, Another cup.” No breakfast plate or bowl was in sight, per normal. After a small sip, she snarled, “Next time I go to Monaco, I am taking you.”

“What do you … oh, I take it we ‘won’ at roulette.”

“If the last five days of morning sickness is anything to go by.” She rubbed her forehead. “The kit came back positive too, and I made an appointment yesterday to get the final official opinion. It’s two weeks from now, the only time they had an opening at the same time as my schedule.”

“That sucks, the morning sickness.”

“Yes it does.” She took a sip from his gift, the slightly green cast to her cheeks remaining as she tried swallowing. “The managers didn’t like me running out of the 10 am meeting yesterday.”

“Fortunately, you are the boss, so they can suck it up.”

Amanda laughed a quick bark. “That is true. But if it keeps up, they are going to report back to the US and then all hell will break out.”

“You just tell them you are going to continue to mind their business, so that is all they need to worry about.” Jeffrey set aside the towel he had been drying with to lean over the laptop for emphasis. “I got the kid covered, so nothing else is their business. Get the dates and stuff from the doctor, and I will start working on coming and helping out.”

Amanda sipped her coffee, slowly, the green finally receding. “You shouldn’t need a visa, but work is going to be a chore. And you will need a passport too.”

“Nah, I got a passport already to visit my parents.” He smiled at the camera. “Army brat, remember? And working remotely is fine from the United States or Copenhagen, so I won’t need vacation; just get me an office with a door over there.” Jeffrey stopped and reached out to touch the screen. “I will be there for you.”

Her dark eyes softened, a crooked smile touching her lips, right before her watch started beeping. Amanda tapped it off. “Sorry for the short call today, but hugging the porcelain altar had priority.”

“Well, I appreciate the worship, Mistress Troglodyte.”

“You better,” she threatened before the screen went blank.

Words 487; first published 3/24/2019

 

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

Flash: Red Mug

Image courtesy of imagerymajestic. at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

“So, coffee?”

Jeffrey passed Amanda the red mug.

Two burning gulps later, a semblance of life entered her eyes.

“Should I just start the second cup now?” he offered, moving to take the white pod out of the coffee maker.

Resting her elbows on the sandstone-marbled countertop between them, Amanda whispered, “You are a god.”

“Not yet, but there is still time. Mocha or espresso or,” Jeffrey rubbed a hand from mid-chest to his six-pack, and hinting going lower “straight black.”

Smirking, because amusement, let alone laughing, took energy she did not have after the New Year’s party, Amanda finished the mug and pushed it back to her friend and surprise lover. “Espresso next.”

“Then, we talk.”

Amanda shook her head, leaning forward afterwards to hold the forehead. “Then mocha, then talk. Maybe.”

“How much did you drink last night?”

She waved her hand back and forth trying to erase the thought from the air. When Jeffry placed the refilled cup in front of her, she grabbed it with both hands, immediately quaffing the near boiling liquid. Jeffrey switched out the pod again for the mocha and refilled the water tank. She pushed the red mug his way a second time, and he provided the nectar of life for the third time.

This time she tasted the liquid. “Oh, god.” Miraculously, beside her hand appeared four aspirin. She tossed them back and took a snip to wash them down. “I said, you are a god, right?”

“Yep.” Jeffry poured himself a bowl of cereal and added milk, betting Amanda wasn’t up to smelling food cooking for a few more hours. This wasn’t the first time she overindulged at his New Year’s party. It was the first time they were both drunk enough to forget not to have drunk sex; she had stayed after, like she had every year since they met four years ago at a work party one Christmas and he randomly invited her over. She hated how trashed his place had been that first year, and stayed to help him pick up the debris after everyone left.

Amanda worked upper management somewhere in Europe most of the year, coming home during the holidays since the offices were closed but having no one to come back to. Her loose ends matched his pretty well for the holiday season in recent years, being an army brat and his parents and younger siblings located somewhere in Asia this deployment and his older siblings scattered throughout the world, so Amanda and he had become once-a-year friends and party crashers.

Somehow this year they started skyping outside of her holiday vacation. Why? Right, Toni had punched through a wall last year, missing her ex by a mile – but chasing the jerk off, and Amanda wondering how the remodeling and assault changes had gone.

One thing led to another and, well, here they were.

“Human yet?”

She shook her head, but it didn’t like it would fall off this time. “Troglodyte, but human may be possible by lunch. We can’t all be gods.” She pushed the red mug forward again.

“Another, or will you be vibrating?”

“Let’s do a decaf this time, something smooth, and hit your patio.”

Jeff grabbed a green pod of his favorite roast, adding a breath of his hazelnut cream when it finished perking, and passed it over.

Silently they padded barefoot to his deck. After clearing one of the mosaic tile tables of the bottles they didn’t touch the night before, because of the … distraction, they sat down to admire his mountain view, pulling their thick robes around them against the January chill. Amanda tucked her feet up onto the chair lip, stuffing the excess of the robe around them for warmth. Since the robe was Jeffrey’s, and he had about ten inches on her five foot four inches, she had plenty of cloth to work with.

He admired the snowscape, carefully not staring at his guest, though a couple other peaks called to him from where she huddled. Another dusting had fallen in the night; combined with the wind, the tracks and forts from last night’s snowball fight, everything now softly rose and fell in mounds.

“Last night,” she stated, baldly.

“Yep.”

“Great sex.”

“Yep.”

“I’ve not had anything in a year, you clean?”

“Yes.” Thinking about the last holiday season, that would mean, let’s see, Bentley from accounting. “Sorry about not using a condom.”

“I found them in your medicine cabinet this morning; they were all expired.”

“Most likely,: Jeff chuckled without amusement. “You don’t need condoms when masturbating.”

“Do that often?” She took a sip of her steaming decaf.

“Enough to keep the plumbing working.” He shrugged, settling back into the webbed chair.

“It worked well last night.”

“Yep.” He finally looked over at the brunette. “But I had some very nice inspiration.”

The blush started between the V of the robe and climbed to her ears, the joys of being white. The red path tempted him to follow it with his lips, as the plumbing reminded him it really, really liked to be used in the morning.

“Thank you.”

“So clean is good.” Jeff cleared his throat. “Leaving the next question; I am not snipped, and we didn’t use a condom.”

She made a face. “Yeah, that could be an issue. I’m normally on birth control, but forgot it would lapse during the holiday so I didn’t pick it extra before leaving for the states. I’ve been off for seven weeks now.”

“You want to get a morning-after pill, just in case?”

“Do you want me to?”

Jeff smiled at her. “Not unless you want to. I’m cool to raise a kid.”

“With me?” Her eyes, previously stilted against the snow glare opened a little.

“Or without, if you just want to carry and dump. I know you really love your career. I wouldn’t mind a kid but haven’t found anyone yet.” He turned his body to completely face her. “On the other hand, I like you and think we could be adults about it.”

She stared into the red mug for a while. “I’m getting up there in age.”

Jeff nodded, understanding. While he had technical expertise, landing him a six figure income at a young age allowing him to live his dream, she had been plodding and career climbing for a long time, and pulled in nearly fifteen years his senior.

“I’m game to play roulette.”

“Promise to keep me informed.” He pulled one of his hands out of the robe sleeves, offering her a pinky.

A laugh exploded from her, and she put down the mug. Offering her pinky in return, they crossed digits. “Promise.”

“Now about that godhood,” he growled, lowering his voice a register pseudo-seductively.

“Are you suggesting you want to double-down on the wheel?”

His smile crafted in response to the question was meant to send shivers up any heterosexual female spine. “Maybe, but also I want to taste you sober, sweet cheeks.”

She leaned forward to kiss his broad lips. Coffee and hazelnut mixed with Fruit Loops and milk; he reached a hand back to pull her closer, opening his mouth. She responded by transferring over to his chair and opening her mouth. Her hands dug into the robe and started stroking his chest.

Pulling back a little, Amanda asked, “So what do you think?”

“Delicious.” Jeffrey pushed her off his lap for a moment to stand. After opening the glass doors, he lifted her up into her arms, letting her wrap her legs around him. “But I want a meal, not a snack.”

The nibble beside his ear whispered, “I think we got time for a feast.”

“A feast,” he groaned, laying her on his bed, glad to make it that far this time.

“Gods should have feasts.” Amanda opened her robe. “I’ve got two days before the return flight.”

(Words 1,314; first published 3/17/2019)

 

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

Flash: The Archer (Part 2) – The Reaction

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

Rating: Mature

Banging open its doors, the metro bus traded another group of afternoon commuters with a tide moving out and a wave moving in. Susan stared outside hoping people would take the hint that she wanted to be alone. She still debated trading her car for cash. Now limited to public transportation, the trip between her apartment and her department store job went from a short fifteen minutes if lights were with her to over an hour unless she hit the transfer jackpot. Today the commute home was exceptionally bad after being on the wrong bus for five stops.

Someone in her peripheral vision paused by her row, dragging her out of self-flagellation.

“Is this seat taken?” a smooth baritone asked. Susan forced her eyes to look at someone directly. Her eyes started at the belt buckle and crawled up. Past the sweat stained shirt declaring a name of Billy working at DJ’s Recycling. Over the dark almost beard hiding the shape of Billy’s chin. Stopping a moment to trace the purple scars scratched into the man’s face. To finally focus on two of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Her heartbeat stopped.

The bus lurched and restarted her heart. “No, please sit.” Susan tried to ignore her tightening breasts and moisture pooling in her nether regions as he took her up on the offer.

“Billy” he said, offering his hand. Susan stared at the well-scrubbed pink hand before gripping it. All she could think of was his callused tips dragging across her nipples. What was happening to her? Her fantasy life usually was limited to the camera and software at her apartment.  With her behind the camera, outside the action.

“Susan, Susan Freeman.” She responded before reluctantly removing her hand from his warm grasp. She half turned in her seat as his wide shoulders encroached on her area, bringing her wide thighs into direct contact with his uniform encased legs. The surge through her system sent her mentally inventorying her apartment for working batteries.

“Nice to meet you Susan … Susan Freeman.” He responded in a voice that made her insides crawl, and her hands itch for a sound board. What a great narrator’s voice.

“James Bond fan?” She responded, hoping to hear his voice again.

“More like movie fan.” He said turning his body towards her. His lips parted in a smile so perfect she would have given up a day of chocolate to film it. “You?”

“Oh, something much worse.”

The man’s expressive face shrank in pretend horror, the recent scarring hardly noticeable in his constant animation. “No, not a critic!”

“Worse than even that.” Leaning forward she shared in a whisper. “I am a wanna-be. A wanna-be-director.”

The bus came to a stop causing her to glance outside. One more stop, she thought.

The response of “Really?” had turning back to the first man she ever wanted in front and behind the camera. “How badly are you wanna?”

Very, very badly wanna, she thought. To think she wouldn’t have met him if she hadn’t daydreamed her way on the wrong bus. “Enough to sell everything I got to get my own RED. My friends think I am crazy.”

He nodded. “Art students usually are. Which school are you attending?”

She shook her head, her brown curls bounced off her plump cheeks. “Not a student. Remember I had to buy a camera. Students have resources.” Susan focused on the driver’s head four rows ahead. “I created a couple shorts using a camera phone I posted to YouTube. They got a lot of hits. I always loved movies and writing, with the Internet response the bug bit big time. Now I’ve sold pretty much everything and spent every cent on equipment and software. Don’t even have money for rent this month.”

She refocused on Billy as her depression came rolling back. “I’ve been so stupid.”

Consideration crossed his face. “How many hits?”

She almost reached up to kiss him. No one had ever asked that. Not her co-workers, not her friends, not her family.

“About 12 million between the two.”

His blue eyes blinked. “Twelve … million?”

Smiling happily at the first person who seemed to get it. “The Moonpie Werewolf got more hits, but I feel Vampire Twister is the better of the two. “

“Those were yours?” he gasped. “Hon, hate to break it to you, but you got talent. Stupid would be not trying.”

The brakes squealed indicated another stop. Double-checking, she stood to get off. He stood letting her by. Feeling reassured someone liked her work, she disembarked. Sure, twelve million hits indicated interest and the ton of comments helped – but actually talking to someone who like it! She started floating towards her apartment.

Behind her came the perfect rolling baritone again. “Hey hon.”

Her body turned to face him. The other commuters scurried away. She debated responding, but seeing his face again outside the bus made her heart race. In for a dime, in for a dollar – as she had been telling herself for months now. “Yes?”

“Look. I don’t normally come this way. Got some buds catching the game at a sports bar tonight and I need to get food before male bonding with alcohol. Want to grab some pizza?”

She smiled sadly. “Sorry, don’t have any money.”

“I’ve got plenty.” He waved a hand over his face. “Car wreck two months ago. Lawyers are still working out the details, but the other guy is rich and they don’t want it to hit the courts. I’m set for the rest of my life if I don’t live large. I just got to accept no woman will ever look at me again.”

Susan grabbed the fallen hand and started pulling him to her apartment. “No woman ever look at you again? Really? God, just wait until I got you in my sights.”

In for a dime, in for a dollar “And between my legs.” She added.

(Words 993; first published 12/12/2012; republished 2/10/2019)

Flash: The Archer (Part 1) – The Action

Image from freedigitalphotos.net

 

The archer stopped just past the bus’ commuter card swipe. So this is what humanity has come to. They who challenged the gods. They who ripped deity from Olympus and claimed equality.

 

They who discovered the great burden divinity carries. To be responsible for oneself and others. Not a single face carried joy. Those by the dirty windows watched the grey world with defeat. Those in the middle seats fixed their eyes on the floor and bore holes to Hades’ realm. Reaching back to pull two arrows from his quiver, he compared what he saw with Charon’s passengers. Charon’s clients appeared more animated.

 

He had toyed with the thought of not following through with Lachesis’ request. After all, humans had pushed them away. But the Fate was right, even when the worshippers leave their gods, their gods cannot forsake their worshippers.

 

“I have a chance to add some brilliant color to the tapestry.” The Moirai had said when she had tracked him down in the marble halls. “If these two threads can just be twisted together, they will brighten a whole segment.”

 

She had played with the strands until they would be side-by-side for a moment and asked him if he could fix them together. He had agreed … for a favor. A favor from a being older than the Titians is something to be seized whenever possible.

 

The male Lachesis had manipulated came beside the empty bus seat and turned his head to examine the window seat occupant. The arrow’s shaft rested against the ash wood for only a second before its whistling release. No one noticed the missile’s flight or its piercing of the man’s back.

 

The archer had asked Lachesis what would happen if he did not bond the threads. With her typical pragmatic temperament, “Together the brown threads take on the Iris’ hues and bring attention to the colors around them. But separately … brown threads abound. My sister will need to cut one shortly, likely both.”

 

The seated woman raised her head from something the man was asking. A miracle as far as the archer was concerned. No one on the conveyance looked anyone else in the eye and his magic required eye contact.

 

Eros quickly loosed his second arrow and watched in satisfaction as it buried itself in the woman’s heart. Everything else is up to the would-be-gods. May they and others like them return the gift one day.

 

(words 405; first published 12/5/2012; republished 2/3/2019)

Flash: Burdened Reflections

Photo by Antoine Da cunha on Unsplash

Art cropped by Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

Heather pulled into the daycare parking lot shaking from exhaustion. Two co-workers had quit in the early morning because of the insulting and vulgar rudeness of the pre-Christmas crowd, leaving the rest of the store to take up the slack. Lunch never happened. Getting off at her normal time had required her to demand the ability to leave, or payment to cover the daycare penalties if she showed up late.

The backup at the registers had been bad enough the tightwads running the outlet debated the costs until she shut off her light and walked away from the waiting customers.

Prying her fingers from the staring wheel, Heather shouldered her handbag before leaving the car, feeling a little naked without extra weight of the diaper bag she had left when she dropped off the children. She glanced around at the four other cars, recognizing all the them, as she quickly crossed the graveled lot, shivering in the cold. The daycare wasn’t the best, but it was willing to take in the twins and the government covered all costs so she could work. She didn’t know how she would have made ends meet without welfare assistance.

It wasn’t like her ex would be paying child support. After he dumped her once the baby bump showed, he disappeared without a trace. Phone number, facebook, twitter, old address – nothing worked. She had been so stupidly enthralled she hadn’t notice she never met any of his friends and he hadn’t bother meeting any of hers. No one existed anywhere with the name Jevil Horne, and she had looked in ways not available to most people. It was like he wasn’t on the planet anymore. She couldn’t even find where he got his inks, and they had been elaborate.

Heat embraced her through her windbreaker once the door closed behind her. The tight entryway required her to step out of the path of an exiting parent, toddler on his hip. The father nodded in passing, looking as harried as she felt. They overlapped each day during pickup and dropoff. One day she should ask his name.

She needed a new group of friends since her old ones dumped her. Babies didn’t mix with the half she used to club with, and the rest, well, they had good reason for distancing themselves even if it hurt. Getting involved with other parents might be the answer, because she sure as sunspots wasn’t going to stick around at the General Outlet after the holidays. They already treated her as a second-class citizen since she gave birth.

Breezing by the always unmanned receptionist desk at the understaffed, cut-rate daycare, Heather made her way back to the nursery area.

“Hey, Mrs. Forester, running a little late today?” asked the extremely overweight woman rocking one of the babies in the crib area, greed gleaming in her eyes.

“Only twelve minutes, which, since I usually run twenty minutes early, means I am still ontime.” Heather snapped going to the crib where they double-bunked her twins. “And it’s Miss,” she muttered under her breath, knowing no amount of correction worked with the caregiver. Heather picked up the pink and blue striped bag hanging off the side of the crib, automatically counting diapers and bottles. She hadn’t got to pump today, missing lunch, but she had enough at home for tomorrow.

“They ate just fine and needed three changes today, plus one change of clothes.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gula.” Heather pulled out her customer service smile for the hag, then lifted first one and then the other of her twins from the crib. She should complain about the daycare putting them in the same crib, but she did the same at home. At two months, there was plenty of room. Thinking into the New Year, and what her growing babies would need, required sleep she seriously lacked. Decision would be made later.

Juggling the two mostly awake children, Heather exited the building and loaded them in her blue Honda, carefully checking all the straps and kissing first her son and then her daughter on their foreheads, saying “I love you.”

Her parents, and her several sets of step-parents, never said it enough to her. If she remember right, and since she had wrote it in her diary because it had been unusual even then, the last time was her eleventh birthday. When she left home, she swore she was never going back.

If that means raising two children on her own, so mote it be.

It would be nice to hear the words from someone again. Not even her coven-mates said those magical words. Only things like “We support each other before the gods.” and “Blessed be.”

Tucking her blonde curls behind her ears, Heather climbed into the car and started shutting her door. The coven had been relieved to have a reason to kick her out; they always been scared about how quickly she learned and mastered new magics. Magic soaked into her like sunlight into a tan, it didn’t matter the form – fire or water, nature or –

The door wouldn’t close.

Heather looked up to find her ex, Jevil, grasping the top.

“Hello sexy.”

***Chapter Break

Heather’s breast tingled at the voice, trained after nearly a year under his kinky appetites, but her mind pulled the rest of her deeper in the car. He looked dangerously delicious, silhouetted against the gray, winter sky. His black curls hung around his shoulders ready to swing forward and cut off the world has he hovered above her, building anticipation before he slammed into her the first time, every time. His large hand pulled the door completely open, and he filled the space with his wickedly well-muscled body. She remember digging her hands into the hallows and stroking the planes of his sinfully perfect build. All she could think about is how much she wanted to kiss him, have him work his way down her body until she screamed for release.

Then someone tried to open the car door into the back seat. She always locked them after loading the children.

“What?” She snapped her head around to find two men, even larger than Jevil, if that was possible, trying to get in the car. The back of her car. Where her babies were.

“The door’s locked,” one of them reported, his voice satin and melted chocolate late at night, stirring hormones buried beneath the changes to her body required during nursing.

When Jevil reached to the button on her door to unlock the car, she called the winter wind and shoved him back, his unseasonably thin shirt covered in a light layer of ice.

He smiled, his eyes darkening beyond black, like they did when he applied nipple clamps or taught her a new incantation. “Don’t be that way babe.” He wiped the crusty frost from his front and strode toward the car again. “We just want the brats. It’s not like they are anything but a burden.”

burden. burden.

The day weighed down on her. Lack of food made her shake. Every screaming, demanding customer. The looks the daycare workers gave her. The abandonment of her friends. And all for what?

Her son made a sound, a half-cry for attention.

“Don’t you dare!” she spat, slamming the door. The Honda turned over instantly without her touching the key, and she peeled out, spraying gravel, hearing a slight thud when one of the men with Jevil didn’t move out of her way quickly enough.

She saw him leap impossibly high in the air, and for a second, a split second, that if she didn’t have the Sight, her mind would have brush aside for a more comfortable version of reality. Behind the suddenly naked man stretched two large wings. Black, shimmering with midnight purple and sunless silver scales, and perfectly matching the horns growing out of his head. One hand gave her a single taloned finger in her rear-view mirror, as he landed back on the ground, pulling the illusion back into place.

“Oh goddess, oh goddess.” Heather kept looking at her side mirror all the way home, though nothing seemed to be following her.

The rental was small, but affordable, at least on the salary she had before she got fired because of missing days from morning sickness. The hard scrabble since then from one minimum wage to job to another destroyed her anemic savings long before the babies were born. Government assistance workers had helped arrange partial payment until some real section 8 housing opened up, but she had to make up the difference. She hadn’t made her portion of this month’s payment; she didn’t think her landlord would kick her out until after Christmas. Her luck said today might be the day.

Well, good luck with that. No one would get anywhere near the house today. Pulling into the garage, she raised the wards her coven had put in place back when they used to meet here and locked the house up tighter than a fortress. When Jevil had dumped her, she had rescinded his welcome and cleaned the house of all traces of his existence. The first pass had been mostly to find something to cast a tracking spell because she wanted to give the jerk a piece of her mind, but the bastard hadn’t left even a hair behind. No way he could get inside now.

She breathed deeply instead of hyperventilating, and turned off the car, this time with the key.

“So, Apollo and Diana, how did you like meeting your daddy?”

The twins started crying after being silent the entire wild ride home.

(Words 1610; first published 1/27/2019)