Tag: Romance (erotica)

Flash: The Interview

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature

Maddy followed the luscious male’s ass through to one of the messiest houses she had ever been in. Not hoarder level piles, but dust, dishes, and dirt everywhere. High-end furniture with water marks from glasses. Used clothes dropped where stripped.

 

Yep, these boys needed a housekeeper bad. Not certain about the rest of the job, but live-in arrangements didn’t come often and Jack was really tired of having her crash on his couch. Well, more accurately Jack’s boyfriend. To be fair, her friend put up with a heck of a lot from her, and his boyfriend didn’t understand their history.

 

The kitchen was no better than the rest of the house, but the table had been cleared and her other potential boss was already seated. Oscar met her at the door, so this had to be … “Dave, so good to meet you.” she said, presenting her hand.

 

Dave, a brunette to Oscar’s dark blond, stood to take her hand. Holy Hannah, she watched her hand get swallowed in his mitt. If the urban myth of hand size was true … her eyes drifted down and made a measuring guess. Dave dropped her hand and sat abruptly while Oscar joined him on the other side, putting the papers she brought on the table.

 

“A little larger than expected, your résumé.” Oscar commented.

 

“You requested the last three years of employment.” Maggie pointed out

 

“And in that time you had …” Oscar moved the pages around, silently counting. “twenty-four jobs.”

 

“What?” asked Dave, grabbing some of the sheets. “Did you quit all these or were fired?”

 

Smiling a 100-watt smile, Maggie started putting a positive spin on the situation. She knew she could ace this. She gave great interview. Plenty of practice. “Well, several of those are acting gigs, and a few were seasonal positions. Is the amount of jobs a problem? I do try to keep busy.”

 

“We understand seasonal positions, being in construction. But why did you leave something like the daycare position?” Oscar inquired flipping paper around.

 

“The daycare position entailed cooking the children meals and keeping the facility clean. Likewise my work in restaurants and as a maid gives me the skills to be an excellent housekeeper. The Little Ones Daycare and DJ’s Janitorial Services required extensive background checks and bonding. I should be able to get those types of credentials if you need them.”

 

Dave grabbed the rest of her résumé when Oscar started tapping the papers together. “I agree you have the skills required for that portion of the position, but why did you leave your last place of employment?”

 

 “Annalisa’s was a seasonal position.” Maggie said, leaving out the fact she got released because she moved things without the management’s direction. Never mind her little fix of the floor plan increased revenue by 12% over the three days it was in place before the boss noticed. She constantly ran into problems when she improved things.

 

Dave held up another page. “And how about the sex phone line?”

 

Maggie had included that job because of the second requirement of the position she was applying for. “I must admit I got fired from that one.” She sighed dramatically. “I just couldn’t keep to the script.”

 

Dave looked interested and motioned her to continue.

 

So in a monotone she said, “Oh, oh, do me.  Yes, touch me there. I like that.” Maggie’s laugh pealed. “I changed things up so I felt the part, and when my line got more repeat calls than others the owners looked into things and were appalled by my inventions.”

 

Oscar shifted in his seat, he of the greater height but smaller hands. “Do any of your inventions include S&M?”

 

Ahh, now to the real interview. A friend from the sex line had given her the information for this job. The boys not only wanted a housekeeper, but also a live-in dominatrix. “I tried to steer clear of abusive sex, but some titillation through taking control or letting go always spices things up.”

 

Dave smiled in comfortable agreement. Oscar started opening his mouth for the next question.

 

Speaking of taking control, time to hijack the interview. “So why did your last Mistress leave?”

 

The two men looked at each other. Oscar’s head nodded and Dave took over. “We were too vanilla. And she said we worked too much.”

 

Maggie leaned back, taking two of the chair legs off the floor and considered. They gave her time to think. “Are you two a couple without a dom present? Whose on top?”

 

Dave answered again. “Outside the bedroom, we jointly own a construction firm and we pour all our energy into that. We prefer not to think once home and depend on someone else to take over.”

 

“So you have been without your dom for about, what, three weeks?” Maggie inquired with, bringing the legs back to the floor. “Have you had sex at all since then?”

 

Dave shook his head no. Oscar couldn’t even meet her eye. Oh, she was so going to ace this interview.

 

“Okay then boys, stand up.” She ordered.

 

Like good little submissives, they stood. Maggie never thought of herself as a dominatrix before, but for the two hunks in front of her she was going to give it a shot. Heck, for room and board and the starting salary she had been told, she would have attempted it with two overweight TV addicts.

 

“Lead the way to the cleanest bedroom.”

(Words 911 – first published 2/6/2013; published in new blog format on 3/5/2017)

Flash: Up the Steps

Erin Penn

Rating: Mature

I could not believe my luck when I ran into Bret on the stairs while moving into my new apartment. Maneuvering the full size mattress from my pickup into the building had taken far too long and the narrow stairwell made me want to cry defeated. Then Bret bounded down the steps on his way out and voluntarily stopped to help. Between the two of us we managed to drag the dead weight up two flights. Delights of delights, I find out he has the door across from mine. Together we have the top floor alone.

After getting the box spring up and tipping the mattress we had left leaning against the wall on top, Bret collapsed on the makeshift bed. “Please tell me the frame is lighter.”

I shake my head. “Don’t have a frame. In fact, that is pretty much it except for the bag of clothes in my front seat and about two dishes.” I find myself focusing on his abs and try to drag my eyes upwards to his kind face, but instead they drift down . He shouldn’t look so right on my bed.

(189 words – originally appearing at Sunday Fun on Breathless Press 10/21/12 – The original photo of a hunky guy on a bare mattress on the floor was of unknown copyright so did not put on my site – published on old blog 11/11/2012; republished in new blog format on 2/12/2017)

Flash: Me, Again

Erin Penn

Clip Art - Forest Fire

Image courtesy of FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Rating: Mature (Language)

Finally finding his cell, Younger looked around to steady himself before placing the call. Trees uprooted, blood and dirt mixed into a crusty mud, small underbrush fires providing flickering views of the devastation. How he hated this next part of his hereditary “second job”.

Three quick numbers dialed, he held the phone to his ear when the ringing began. A pleasant woman on the other end confirmed he reached the correct number. She continued the automatic pleasantry with “How may I help you?”

“It’s me, again.” he stated grimacing. “Michelle, right?”

“Huh, what? Yes, my name is Michelle.”

The man leaned against a tree waiting for the woman to realign her world. Not everyone identifies 911 operators by their voice. He called way too much.

A nervous voice betrayed her recognition after a moment. “Oh, Mr. Younger. Do I need to send any special equipment?”

“No … no leftover bombs this time. Everything detonated. No need for an ambulance either, so you can recall that.”

“Where are you located at this time sir?”

“Damn, give me a minute to find that GPS gizmo the cops gave me.” He started searching the area. “It can’t be far from where the phone was, they started in the same pocket.”

“Can you describe the location?”

He snorted as he recognized the standard question from her screen. But the prompt worked, “On the Powder Monkey Trail in Cameron Park, about a quarter mile in … maybe.” A metallic glint reflected in the dying fires. Younger kicked a squishy bit off to reveal the machine he was looking for – perfectly crushed. Sighing, “Yeah, well, I am at a switchback. Lots of grooves and ruts from dirt bikes.”

“Officers should be there shortly. Please stay on the line.”

“Not a problem Michelle, I know the routine.” And hated it. Modern bureaucracy at its finest. Red tape to tie him up for the next day. He would need to call his work shortly; fortunately working for a company three states away as a virtual programmer gave him leeway in getting his forty hours in. Flex time a-plenty to deal with the tokens his mother’s bloodline brought his way.

“Sir, the officers have arrived at the parking lot and are heading down the trail. They have asked me to remind you not to move anything.”

“Fuck, that would be Lance and Paul.” Younger looked the way they would be coming in. His eyes drifted to the stringy mass decorating tree limbs. “Could you tell Paul to bring a puke bag? He ain’t going to last long.”

Next time. Next time, he promised himself. Things will not devolve to the point he needed to call the nice girls at 911. Except maybe for a date; Michelle sounded hot, when he wasn’t scaring the shit out of her.

(words 468 –  first published 3/13/2013; republished in new blog format on 2/5/2017)

Flash: Thebe gets her Nymph Mask

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of voraorn at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Thebe reached into the bag and pulled a mask out. The small domino was black and green. Nature. She had been hoping for sky-blue and white and be celestial like her friend Rhene. Well, at least the green would look great with her hazel eyes. As she moved out of the way, the next girl approached the table. The females behind the table all had red and yellow dominoes; last year winner had been fire and the hostesses at Nymphs and Satyrs had worn the colors all year.

Walking past the growing group with azure and violet masks, those who would be playing water nymphs in the competition, Thebe snapped on her mask. She approached the north corner of the plain room where women in matching masks to her black and green were already in deep discussion. They frowned as she joined their group, and Thebe crushed her inner shame. Her body could not be helped. Two full-time jobs left little room for healthy eating and gym time. Fast food made up all her meals, the ones she didn’t skip because she had fallen asleep. The mask hid the bags under her eyes.

Most women in the room had bodies screaming of youth and vigor or money and privilege. She would need to see if Rhene had bribed someone to get her two-hundred forty pound ass through the front door and onto the list. Sure her six-foot height distributed the weight enough to prevent her from being a complete butterball, but her budget-and-time-driven diet was quickly propelling her Rubenistic proportions from healthy to hefty. Her tendency to fold in on herself only made her look fatter.

Thebe pushed back her shoulders and straightened her spine. Now towering over her detractors, she met their eyes. Tonight was not the night to be a shrinking violet. One million dollars was at stake. Enough to get her out of debt – all her student loans and credit card bills disappearing in one swoop instead of slowly building despite her best efforts with cheap food, Goodwill excursions when clothes could no longer be repaired, and nearly one-hundred-hour work weeks when the commutes were included thanks the capriciousness of public transportation. Her budget was squeezed until pennies whimpered. Nothing helped.

She had to seize the chance.

The week-long contest wasn’t like playing the lottery. Only fifty-four girls were chosen to enter from thousands of photos. These were then assigned to four teams representing the four elements. Even if Thebe didn’t personally win, if she was on the team with the winner, she would be looking at a new job as hostess. A job paying double what her two current jobs paid combined and only taking about thirty hours per week, counting commute from the apartment she shared with four other girls on the other side of the city.

A job with perks like a full-time gym and spa. A job with a clothes budget and meals during the four nights the club was open. A one-in -four chance at catching up and, maybe, getting ahead. A one in fifty-four chance of being set for life.

As a bonus, each day she survived in the competition she pocketed $1,000. If she was knocked out today, just getting this far would mean all her interest payments for the month would be met for the first time in eight years, instead of her shuffling money around like someone running a Ponzi scheme. She smiled at her team. There was no way a girl like her could take first place but she would do everything in her power to make certain her team won.

(words 604, first published 12/25/2016)

Flash: Thebe at Nymphs and Satyrs

Erin Penn

Image courtesy of marin at FreeDigitalPhotos.net

The white walled room, so different from the sumptuously decorated rooms Thebe had traveled through to get to this one, was empty of furniture. The opposite wall had a single plain door. Another wall had five floor to ceiling mirrors, each about three foot wide with five feet between. The mirrors reflected the thirty women already present in the room. By the buff and beautiful bodies, Thebe assumed most had far more free time and money than her for gyms, salons, and boutiques.  A couple rivaled her plumpness, one or two wore department store clothes like hers, though probably not Goodwill purchases, and she noticed one person made no attempt at makeup and she really should have. Even so no one fell down on all three as badly as her. Why she had let Rhene talk her into coming? This was not her style at all.

Nymphs and Satyrs didn’t even try to hide the fact it was a sex club. Somehow they never gotten raided or shut down; her bet was the club numbered some high-ranking “up-standing” citizens. People with real money and power, far more than the noticeably privileged women gathered in this room.

People able to offer a one million dollar prize.

The reason why she was here. Why she let Rhene talk her into entering this farce. Student loans and credit card debt were killing her, literally and figuratively. The two jobs she had been able to find kept her in the fast food she ate between the forty-hour jobs. A third job was out of the question as the two jobs were already affecting her health between sleep-deprivation and stress. The poor food alone had added 20% to her already healthy body weight, so she now topped the scales at two hundred forty. Only her height, just shy of six foot, kept her from looking like a complete butterball.

She graduated in a recession with too much education and too little experience. A bachelor’s in Music and a minor in Education turned out to be useless as high school after high school slashed “unnecessary” items from their budgets. Turning around and getting the more practical Masters of Business Administration was even worse as the market flooded with out-of-work and highly experienced MBA professionals. Hoping against hope to get ahead of the financial collapse, Thebe had returned back to school for yet three more years of college and collected a Doctorate of Classical Literature and Art. Museums and libraries were doing booming business at the beginning of the recession as people looked for low cost entertainment. Her thesis comparing mythical allegories in music to painting was the stuff of legends, if one pardons the pun. Her graduation came as unemployment funds dried up and people could no longer afford to leave the house.

Hence Halloween found her at Nymphs and Satyrs, hoping to win their porn queen contest or whatever it was. At least place on the Nympho Court, girls who were the Club hostesses throughout the year and get paid three times what she was making between the two jobs combined, but for only twenty hours of work. If she couldn’t get a job with her brain, she would get one using the oldest skill set available to women. Fortunately, Thebe had studied enough Greek and Roman mythology to offset the Puritan programming ingrained in American culture.

Only one in four would place.

(words 568 – first published 18 December 2016)