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.

Poker

“Surely you understood when the first hand was dealt this was a risk.”

“That you would cheat and wear more clothing? No, I really hadn’t thought that far ahead.” He took another sip of his drink as he contemplated the silken skin of her rounded bottom parked on the green baize of the gaming table.

“Cheat? Me? As if you have any room to talk. Your less-than-subtle signals to your friends to fold was hardly above board.”

“Well. They’re gone. You should thank me for the favor.”

“Thank you? Whatever for?”

“They won’t be here to witness my capitulation to your superior gamesmanship, love.”

“Yes, there is that. I’d like to collect my prize now, if you don’t mind.”

“By all means, please do.” Utterly bereft of clothing, the loser leaned back in his chair, revealing his aroused interest to her view.

She stood, pulling the corset’s laces slowly, teasing his erection with the trailing ends.

He could take no more; he pressed her back onto the table, pushing himself deeply into her warmth again and again. Her legs around him, chips and cards flew as she came and he followed.

“I won,” she sighed.

Sated, he smirked. “Me too.”
__________

Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 200
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 42 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: tease
Awarded Honorable Mention

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

Dark City

The city was in a state of mild ache. Roads swollen with traffic, vehicles discharged into the surrounding suburbs, their occupants fleeing the pervasive affliction.

Characterized first by the dull pain, then by irritation, the remaining citoyens argued the merits of starving or feeding this unnamed sickness, though no curative answer existed between these extremes.

Suburbs mutated into exurbs as the illness spread, contagion following the city-dwellers like a miasma of misery as they trailed off into the big boxed strip malls along disease-ferrying highways.

The metropolis was in a state of mild recovery. Streets echoed with pigeons’ cries as the temperature cooled, storefronts returned to glossy health as the first of many gunshots rang out in the farthest points away from the city.

The mountains and oceans’ waves were in a state of mild ache...
_________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 136
Originally submitted to Revolver arts and culture magazine. 
prompt: The city was in a state of mild ache.
photo: Dark City by sciencesque via Flickr.

Bait

I am a vain man. I mark my body irrevocably with beautiful art to enhance my tight, well-trained flesh.

I am a suggestible man. I yield, caving into his appeal to my vanity, promising photos of my latest ink.

I am a tempted man. I take the bait when he asks to kiss me, running his lips and tongue along my skin, licking the furring that trails below my waistband.

I am a hungry man. I throw myself at him as if starved, nipping along the warm flesh of his ribs, biting at the salt-sweet skin of neck.

I am an eager man. I can’t remove our jeans fast enough, tearing at his zipper and my fly as he continues to photograph my eagerness.

I am a throbbing man. I grasp his cock and mine in between us, feeling the pulsing of our blood as I stroke us in unison.

I am a desperate man. I bite at the foil on the condom, slop wildly with lubricant as I kiss along his raspy jawline, stretching and stroking him beneath me.

I am a buried man. I am home, balls deep in him as we match each other’s frenzied pleasure.
__________
Copyright © 2013 Femme Malheureuse
Words: 199
Originally submitted to Sinful Sunday—Week 39 via Rebecca Grace Allen
Photo prompt: origin unknown | Word prompt: bait