Obsession

“No way. You need a few more degrees rotation,” Bob said with authority, pointing to the picture.

Ben shrugged dejectedly. “Tried that. Just shuddered, wouldn’t turn over. Like she was close, but no joy.”

“Wait. Maybe it’s the oxygen level. She’s getting enough air?” Could have expected that feedback from Cameron; he was a runner and always aware of his lungs.

“Hmm—” Ben’s brow remained frozen with concern, unconvinced.

Tom was persuaded. “Yeah, I’m with Cam. Maybe more air, but maintain current rotation.”

“Hey, maybe increase pressure here, too. Easy, though. Too much and you’ll kill her progress,” said Stevie, gesturing lower with his finger. He’d been around the block a few times; he might actually know what he was talking about.

David, the gang’s youngest member, just nodded his head vigorously, like the fake dog in the car’s back window during a turn.

“Got it. Hold this position, more air, increase pressure slightly.” Ben’s face slowly resolved into firm resignation as he stood straight and tall, rolling up the glossy magazine they’d been pouring over.

Bob patted his back. “It’ll be okay, Ben, trust me. Don’t let this become an obsession. Eventually you’ll give Evie an orgasm.”

__________
Copyright © 2014 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 198
Originally submitted to Flash Fiction - Madi Merek dd. 26-JAN-2014
Word Prompt: obsession | Photo prompt: origin unknown

Shoes

He rubbed the leather gently, as if he held a small foot in his hands and not a shoe.

The toes were scuffed, though the soles were new and the heels unmarred.

With a stiff brush and an old rag, he worked in black polish until the leather gleamed softly, caressing the new-again footwear.

A young hand patted his shoulder, interrupting the reverie into which he had lapsed as he clutched the shoes.

"Grandpa?"

"These are yours now, sweetie. They're your size. They'll be perfect for your competition."

"They're lovely, thank you."

"You don't need to thank me, dear. Your grandmother would have wanted you to have them. They brought her luck when she danced competitively. Wear them for her. Wear them for me."

His granddaughter kissed his whiskery cheek and wrapped her arms around him.

"You still miss her after all this time?"

"Even after ten years, I still miss her. I haven't been able to dance without her."

“But you can dance with me now, Grandpa. I’m sure Grandma would want you to.”

He smiled as he stood and bowed to his partner.

“May I have this dance?”

_________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 190
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 38
Photo: dixie_law via Flickr | video prompt: This Dance by Garth Brooks via Veoh

Dance

Sweaty and hot, your hands gripped me at the prescribed places, like hands on a clock at three p.m.

We stumped slowly in a tightly defined but unmarked circle on the gymnasium floor, our bodies stiff and held apart though drawn together.

Feet struggling to avoid each other, we were pained not only by the foreign position but the oddness of our shoes.

Friends giggled at the periphery, happy and nervous for us, reflecting our feelings like the mirrored ball above.

Eyes darting here and there, we did not dare look at each other lest we break down and cry, or laugh about this strange new world.

But now, so many years later, we have become easy and free, unconstrained by the expectations of others.

We spin and whirl like doves at dusk, comforted and comfortable in the dance that is us.
_________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 143
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 37
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Knifed

She appeared unaware of his presence; he’d finally snuck up on her.

He stalked up behind her, pressing a sudden kiss to her bare shoulder.

No sign of surprise betrayed her; the knife continued rhythmically through the carrot before her.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to disturb a woman wielding a knife?”

“Hmph. What’s for dinner?”

Snick-snick-snick continued the blade along the maple board.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to ask a woman that question upon arrival?”

“Hmm. Fine. Must be that time of the month.”

As if the earth had suddenly shifted and risen up to meet his head, he found himself flat on his back. Snick-snick went the knives which pierced the floor on either side of his head, just missing his ears.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to say that to a woman?”

Sweat broke out on his lip as she peered into the mirror-finish of the butcher’s knife, checking the arch of her brow as she waited.

“I’m sorry, dear. Let me start over, please? Did you have a nice day? And can I help you with dinner?”

“That’s better. Please set the table.”

Shouldn’t have married a knife-thrower, he thought once again.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 34
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Lonely

He hadn’t seen her in a year — not since the last conference.

Kindred spirits, they met often at industry events, sitting together during boring keynotes, snickering softly while joking sotto voce about the speakers.

Invariably she would lean closely as she spoke, whispering into his ear, her lips touching the finest hairs on the skin of his earlobe, sending tickling ripples of heat down to his crotch.

They’d traded emails and phone calls afterward, chatting about business and their personal lives.

A week ago her calls and emails stopped; was something wrong?

He missed her horribly. Though virtual, the place she filled in him ached even though he’d never been able to do more than shake her hand.

Her name was still on the attendees list, though. He’d seek her out at registration.

And there she was, still beautiful, offering a hesitant smile over the sign-in table when their eyes met.

He scribbled hastily as she sidled up to him, ripping the sticker off its backing, slapping it on his lapel at her eye level.

Hello, I’m quite lonely without you, it read.

“Not anymore,” she whispered in his ear as she flung her arms around his neck.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 199 (as submitted, 200)
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 33
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Hi Hello

No segue eased him into her life, merely an abrupt switching of the line as the help desk engaged different departments.

 “And now we turn over the month-end migration to local support in Seattle. Chicago project management will stay on to assist.”

 A click and then just the two of them, keeping each other company.

 Software chugged, hard drives churned, creating grey data snow while his deep-as-night voice kept her company during the longest hours.

With a click Manila cut in as dawn approached; Chicago was gone until next month.

But then emails arrived, asking first about business. Then about Seattle; questions unfinished from last month-end were re-asked and answered.

She couldn’t imagine a month-end without hearing his voice.

 Until suddenly it wasn’t him. She was heartsick; he was the only thing that made the lonely midnight shift bearable during those long, dark hours.

 She debated about finding another job as she eked through her shift.

 This was the last month-end I’ll work, she thought as she shut her office and entered the foyer.

 “Hi,” said a familiar voice with a Chicago accent.

 “Hello,” she smiled, realizing only now that she had much to look forward to before next month-end.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 30
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Waves

I hear your voice, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes your words are clear like the starlit sky. Sometimes they are inky-dark like the autumn ocean at high tide.

I dreamt of you, swimming with the current. Your smile beckoned whitely, your flesh gleaming wondrous as my name wet your lips.

I am powerless to resist as you call to me. No more than the sea can fend off the moon’s perigee can I muster the strength to pull away.

I cannot help myself, wading into the waves which held you aloft one time too few. Every joy I ever had was in your arms, and to that happy place I long to return.

I float beneath indifferent clouds, waiting for the moment when the heavens will part. Water then will wash away the susurrus veil that separates us, once and for all.

__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 

Words: 141

Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 28

Photo prompt: origin unknown | Audio prompt: Gregory and the Hawk's Boats and Birds.

Sunset

“I’m so glad we had a great afternoon on the water. You’re a pretty good sailor.” He stood and offered his left hand to her to help her up to her feet. His grip was warm and firm until he released her hand, clinging to her only by his pinky. He leaned in and placed a soft, teasing peck at the corner of her mouth.

Clear brown eyes widened with surprise as gently arched eyebrows rose toward her hairline.  Her mouth sagged open just a bit, her lips trembled. She could say nothing, gazing back into his eyes, feeling scared yet moved.

"And it looks like it will be a great evening, too." He smiled more widely as he pulled her by their joined pinky fingers down the deck stairs and away over the dune.

"Yes, red sky at night, a sailor’s delight," she said softly, looking from the dark water toward tree line along the beach. Her knees were shaking; once again, her powers of sentient speech had failed her in his presence.

This summer was going to rock her world, she thought, not yet ready to admit to herself that he’d already rocked it and hard.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 198
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 27
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Shooting Stars

"I hate Nicholas Sparks. Sappy soap opera stuff."

"Me too. My mom watches movies based on his books while eating ice cream and sobbing like a baby. I just don't get his stuff."

"At least she gets the ice cream part right," he said as he licked the cone she'd prepared for him. His familiar pink tongue traced down one side and up the other over the cold vanilla and chocolate.

Her own cone dripped onto her bare thigh; she gasped and jumped at the surprise of cold meeting warm in the dark on the deck. He laughed and ran his finger over her skin to wipe up a taste of her strawberry ice cream off her warm flesh.

He slurped the sweet-tartness off his finger before leaning over and kissing her cool lips tasting of berries and cream.

Would it ever be like this again, she wondered.

Years later she thought of that night, when fireflies flitted by in the midnight blue over their heads like shooting stars.

She took a bite of her strawberry ice cream before muting the Nicholas Sparks movie, as sweet-tartness melded with the bitterness of salty tears on her tongue.
_________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 196
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 26 
Prompt: Excerpt, The Notebook, by Nicholas Sparks

Opposite

The laundry is folded and carefully put away, towels neatly stacked.

The pantry is full and organized, labels facing outward.

The doors are locked, the sashes tightly fastened.

The curtains are pulled, neat and tidy in appearance from the street.

The carpets are swept, clear oak floors gleam.

The photo frames are square, nothing unwanted remains.

The bed is made, sheet and blanket flat and straight.

The note is written, left in plain sight.

The door is open, the entry clear for flight.

The heart is broken, only departure will stem the pain.

The message left: Baby, I'm leaving here.

_________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 100 
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 25 
Video prompt: Biffo Clyro, "Opposite", via YouTube.com

Fairy Tales

“...The prince kissed the sleeping princess, who woke up and kissed him back. They declared their love for each other and lived happily ever after.”

The tiny girl hugged her grandfather. “Thank you for my story. But aren’t you too old for fairy tales, Grandpa?”

“We’re never too old for fairy tales, sweetheart. Now go with your mother.”

He eased himself out of the stiff, commercial settee and shuffled into the nearby room filled with muted regular beeping and white noise whirring.

Once blonde, her snow-white hair streamed across the pillow. The delicate nose and pouty lips he kissed for the first time as a strapping teen boy were still as lovely in repose six decades later.

Beneath unmoving parchment-like lids were the bluest eyes, like the lake before sunset. Dark tracery still framed them, her lashes lying against the faded cream of her skin. If only he could look into her calm, liquid gaze once more...

He took her cool hand in one palm as he stroked her hair with the other.

Leaning forward he pressed a kiss on her soft, familiar lips.

“Hello, princess. I still love you. Please wake me on the other side.”
__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse

Words: 197
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 19
Photo prompt: origin unknown
Awarded Honorable Mention

Floating

She fluttered in the murky fluid, quietly waiting for twilight to dissipate into the water below. Stars arched above, milky as they ghosted the song of spheres.

A fetal wait once floated her before a beginning. This, too, was a pause before inception of something yet unknown. She let her thoughts drift fluently away from origin, opening to a nascent genesis.

There, now—

The water rippled toward her, at the surface and below. Pressure built within her as the interval’s end approached. A wake forms; she bobs, without anchor, free—

He grasps her hand as he reaches her side with effortless strokes.

I’m here, love. Let’s go home.

We’ll begin again.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 108
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 18
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Line Dry

He found her sitting at the table in the gazebo, tablecloth spread, dishes laid, pillows tossed along the benches. She looked like the essence of summer itself, her face flush from the sun, her bare shoulders tan above her sundress.

“Hope this fried chicken is as good as you said it would be.”

She smiled as she took the bag he offered. “It will be. It’ll be as tasty as the rest of this picnic.”

He sat on the bench beside her, leaning in for a kiss, wrapping his left arm around her shoulder, gliding his palm over her smooth, warm flesh. His right hand slipped beneath the hem of her dress, sliding along the inside of her parted thighs, slowly working his fingers toward her heat.

Her eyes closed as he whispered in her ear, “Oh, it will be a very tasty feast, and accessible, too.”

“What—”

“Shh. Every pair of panties you own is hanging on the line, dear. Which can only mean one thing—”

She jumped ever so slightly, then sighed as his lips grazed her neck and his fingertips met her softest, warmest flesh.

“Dinner is served, my love, time to eat.”
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse 
Words: 197 
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 17 
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Starry Night

Perseids, he said, meteors will wash the sky tonight.

Mosquitoes, she said, you know I'll get bit up.

Lakeside, he said, the campfire's smoke will chase them away.

Fireflies, she said, won't like the smoke either.

Trust me, he said, it'll be fine, better than fine.

We'll see, she said, I've been burned before.


It was everything he claimed, she said, when her friends asked.

More beautiful than stars, he said, were her eyes last night.

A star fell on the lake, she said, we made a wish together.

Look at the star now, he said, holding out her diamond ringed hand.

__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse

Words: 102
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 16
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Lesson

The smooth gloss of health is gone from his hide.

“Feel here?”

My hand mirrors hers.

We palpate a distention, warm beneath our hands.

“We have to put him down.”

The life-bearer talks of death as if it were an obligation.

My tears slip, unbidden and unwanted, like the mass before us.

I am a child again, resisting the first day of school. I do not want this lesson, this task.

“I know you want him forever, but it can’t be.”

I want to throw myself down on the straw, screaming.

“Our responsibility is to add quality, not suffering, to others’ lives.”

My feet scuff the chaff, raising dust. He snorts weakly. I regret my angry footwork.

“This will hurt. Not him. He’ll simply go to sleep. But you are going to hurt. I can’t make that go away.”

My chest already clenches with pain.

“This is the toughest thing I will ever have to teach you. A good mother must bring death. You must be brave enough to end the suffering, even when it hurts you deeply to do so.”

Her face mirrors mine.

Her tears slip, unbidden and unwanted, like the duty before her.

__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 200
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 14
Photo prompt: origin unknown
Winner

Rain

She thinks of her every time it rains like this, slow drops trailing like tears as she hums a tune.

A teen girl’s image shimmered — the petite bit of spunk with penny-bright hair and bronze freckles, smelling Heaven Scent, swinging her doll-like while Richard Harris crooned.

The teen became the woman, herding her own tiny children around a Thanksgiving table while explaining why her sister and brother-in-law were such assholes to their first-born.

Recollection limned the red-headed spitfire who’d said sotto voce, You weren’t the first baby but the second, disclosing the truth of grim wedding day faces in a washed-out black-and-white photo.

Rain evoked the truth-bearer, who loved the niece whose parents could not make themselves accept the replacement created after the shotgun.

He’s a good man, your father. He didn’t have to, but he did.

It wasn’t enough to be good, bruises proved. Better was needed, but never attained.

But this secret kept; she never knew.

Before her ginger mop faded, or her tongue’s edge dulled, cancer snuffed the light-bearer.

Before her teen-aunt's favorite song - released the year she graduated and married - slipped from memory.

MacArthur’s Park is melting in the dark...

__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 197
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 13
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Chalkboard

Surveying her handiwork, she nearly stepped on his foot while wiping her chalk-dusted hands on her apron.

“I’m sorry, but that quote isn’t by Shakespeare,” he whispered over her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear. She spun around, looking first into an athletic, broad chest and then upward, meeting his amused eyes.

“I was hoping to meet someone who knew that,” she smirked.

“Yes, it’s a quote by Arrigo Boito often misattributed to the Bard.” He smiled more broadly, exposing his dimples. “I’d love to discuss this over coffee, though.” His raised eyebrows queried his hopes.

“As soon as I’m off duty, say 10:00 p.m.?” Her own arched brow and a saucy smile answered and challenged.

“But you must tell me the source of this quote, and whether used in an opera.”

He grinned, delighted. “Ten it is, right here.”

She nodded. “Deal. I’ll be waiting. How can I help you now?”

“A table for two, suitable for a business lunch. My client will be here in a moment.”

As she gestured to a waiter, he leaned over her shoulder again, to whisper, “Verdi’s Falstaff, Act Two.”

She smiled back.

And they knew.

___________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 196
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 10
Photo prompt: origin unknown

Bar Fly

My physician won’t be happy about the cigarettes; he’ll be pleased, though, that his work has not been in vain. Likewise my therapist will feel gratified her efforts are yielding results.

After their investment in me, I feel attractive. I can see I’ve drawn attention; the men my friends are dancing with give me the eye. They follow the outline I’ve drawn by subtraction, my legs, my shoulders, the softer flesh revealed for viewing. My voice, smoke-enhanced, lures them in for an even closer look.

I’ve hunched over, hiding from them, just like any other vulnerable woman might when exposed both physically and emotionally. With time, practice, and healing, I’ll follow one of those hungry-eyed men to the dance floor.

As much as I hate to admit it, my doctors were right; there can be no more hiding. I needed to get out and assume normality if I’m ever going to be normal again.

A new normal, though, one I can feel every time I shift in my seat, one I choose every time I pass through the right door.

A new, normal woman.

_____ Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse Words: 184 Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 8 Photo prompt: origin unknown

Give In

“Give in.”

“No.”

“Look, I'm home. I'm done, mustered out, here forever. So give in.”

“I have to pee. Let me down.”

“No, not until you give in.”

“But we're so happy now. You're happy, right?”

“Yeah, I'm ecstatic. I'd be whatever is beyond ecstatic if you just gave in.”

“I don't want to fuck this up. Things are good, just the way they are.”

He shifted her weight, pressing her back a little more firmly into the wall, grinding a little closer at the same time. He meant business; he hoped she felt it.

“Look, I can wait all goddamned day. Just give in.”

“No.”

He leaned his head forward, until his forehead pressed against hers. She could taste him without even tonguing him, he was so close.

“Give. In. You already said yes, everyone else knows.” He clutched her a bit tighter, closing his eyes as he entrenched into position, commitment settling across his face.

She shifted her hands from his warm, firm shoulders around his neck, relaxing into him.

“Okay. We'll get married this weekend. But I really do have to pee right now, love.”

_____
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 188
Originally submitted to fan fic flash fic - Week 1
Photo prompt: origin unknown