Sunday Quickie: Control

You close the blinds partially. Late afternoon sunlight streams through on the Egyptian cotton bedsheets. Nobody should be able to see through the cracks in the blinds, not if they’re casually walking by. But you like to think a persistent peeping Tom will stroll past. 

On an adults only cruise ship, things like that happen. Right? 

The smell of dripping coffee permeates the little room. You have low expectations of what it will taste like, but it will be hot and bitter and it’ll hit the spot right where you need it. 

You’re wearing the blue two-piece bikini you bought on a lark last spring, as motivation to lose weight. You still think the scale reads the wrong number, and you hate that more than anything. But you love the power to turn heads when you strut by in your high heel wedge sandals.  Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: Control”


Sunday Quickie: Laundry Day

I was told by older relatives and friends that going to college would be the best experience ever in more ways than one. Supposedly, I was going to meet a boy and have wild sex parties with lots of booze and do things I’d never tell my parents about.

Yeah, bullshit.

Unless I became a lesbian overnight, my little college didn’t have enough suitable sex partners to go around. Girls outnumber the boys by a big margin. All the cute guys don’t last very long. Forget about the creepsters, I’d as soon hang on to my virginity. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: Laundry Day”

Sunday Quickie: The Tuesday Dairy

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Apologies if this is a story I’ve repeated. First, I didn’t realize how many of these flash stories I had. Second, I need a better organization system. Enjoy!


On Tuesday, I didn’t go to the grocery store to just get laid. I didn’t have to go in the first place, my cupboards and fridge had enough food for a few days. Only needed eggs, milk, and butter. So I wore cut-off jeans that were cut off a wee bit too short, and a low-cut tank top that showed off the little freckled cleavage I have. And what of it if I wore dark wrap-around shades so I could check out guys without them knowing?

Just a typical loony day at the store in the sweltering summer. Every aisle was packed with people and their loaded shopping carts. I used a hand-basket so I could zip around the store and be done. All my stuff was on the outside sections anyway. But I wanted to walk down the frozen aisle anyway. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: The Tuesday Dairy”

Sunday Quickie: Tickled to Orgasm

It started with her fingernails and hair. Linda always painted her nails in funky colors and designs—red skulls, blue flowers, pink dubious shapes that might’ve been lips of one type or the other. And she used those nails to torture me right before orgasm.

She’d ride me non-stop, our sweaty bodies slapping together and making a musky sexy smell, and then suddenly she’d be scratching me up and down my sides. I’m ticklish as hell, and I always squirmed and laughed despite being near the edge of orgasm.

Then Linda lowered her head so her hair brushed against my face, tickling me even more. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: Tickled to Orgasm”

Sunday Quickie: Paint By the Numbers

Nate sat to one side of the easel, dry paint brush in one hand, color wheel in the other. Dirty sunlight filtered in through the venetian blinds. We had Vivaldi playing on the CD player, just some soft music to set the mood. I had a half eaten BLT on a napkin off to one side, a ginger ale next to that. I was almost done with my painting—a self portrait of him, curly black hair tangled up as if he just rolled out of bed, five o’clock shadow, steely blue eyes that could chip ice.

Oh yeah, and we were both naked. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: Paint By the Numbers”

Sunday Quickie: In the Bag


Mark had promised me a birthday gift for a week, and for seven whole days I badgered him to tell me what it was. My boyfriend of too many years simply shrugged in that not-so-innocent way of his, and evaded my rapid-fire question bombing. He was the only man I knew who could withstand the barrage.

Finally, on Friday night he walked in the door, holding a small brown paper bag in one hand, slipping off his necktie with the other. I dragged him to the bedroom, ignoring the cordon bleu I had prepared earlier, and ripped half his suit off.

“Where’s my gift?” I said. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: In the Bag”

Sunday Quickie: Interrupted

It was a Thursday afternoon, sunny out, warm enough to be pleasant and cool enough to be autumn. I’d just gotten home from my Advanced Russian Lit class at the university. Quick bite of ramen soup and cherry soda while checking email, and then I was done for the day. Time to play.

My apartment in those days was small. The kind of place a giant sized hamster would feel cramped in, but tidy and clean and it was all my own. The single room had a queen sized bed, a floor lamp, and a small kitchenette. I had enough space to cram a desk for my laptop and another table to sit the TV on. No cable. I streamed and watched DVDs while sitting upright in bed. Suited me just fine. Continue reading “Sunday Quickie: Interrupted”