His hands, young and smooth, slid over the peaks of her breasts, slowly pulling the neckline of her impractical shirt lower, exposing her. His lips were at the nape of her neck, suckling insistently on her skin. She felt his power behind her surging.
Then as his hands slipped lower, over her belly, they became scratchy and roughened by a lifetime of work, and she remembered where she was, and who she was, and the power behind her was no longer there as he struggled with her waistline awkwardly, mumbling something. "I'm sorry, I can't," she said. "I can't." And she pulled away, her fantasy dissolving into harsh reality, the husk blowing away in the wind like the stray strands of straw beneath her feet.
Who hasn't had the experience of letting a fantasy overtake them, or having a bubble be popped? I'm not sure where this came from, since I've never had something quite like this happen to me. I think if I'd written something longer, I might have been able to do something better with the idea, but I just don't have the time or the energy for it at the moment (I am a broken record).
I guess it comes from the slightly retro feel of the picture, or possibly the required phrase "scratchy and roughened." I could have written a straight-out sex scene, and he could have been the farmhand with naturally scratchy and roughened hands or something like that, and all would have been well, if a bit clichéd. But I didn't. Chalk it up to wanting these poor characters to be miserable.
This has been, of course, Flash Fiction Friday, which you should check out. I am swamped with work and yet I've managed to do it every week (with debatable success), so what's your excuse, huh?
10 comments:
I'm gonna bet this is the best submission of the week. Clever. Clever. Clever.
Ummm... I'm looking for the other two versions and don't see them. See you've spoiled me with three versions almost every week. ;-)
Oh, man! She didn't continue, wouldn't continue... I'm feeling miserable for the both of the.
I'm glad you've been able to participate despite being busy. You're right, I have no excuse....
@Drench: I wouldn't bet the farm, but I'll take the compliment, at least until PB puts up the list and you read the other cleverer ones :)
@TemptingSweets: Not every week. Sometimes I have more than one, but I can't really say that the picture spoke to my condition this week. That's not knocking the picture, just my condition, which is generally pretty poor. Just keeping my aim, that's all ;) Soon enough there'll be a picture which inspires me and you'll get more than one again.
I like it. Clever take, and I imagine one that will be different from most others this week. Nice writing.
Very hot. Very sad. Very frustrating.
@Max: Well, there are a few I haven't read yet, so maybe I may yet be proven to be entirely derivative, but let's hope not because if I'm merely leading the pack, that means everyone is just as crazy and bummed out as I am.
@Oversexed Librarian: You're welcome for the hotness, and I'm sorry for the sadness and the frustration ;)
You have such a talent for taking these in unexpected directions. The ending depresses me, but at the same time, the way the rest of the piece felt, there could only be one real ending to it. Testament to your skills.
Thanks for playing this week, Lexi. Glad to have you, as always.
-- PB
She surely left him blue, in more than one way I am betting. Nice.
@PB: Yeah, my mad skillz at being depressing are hard to go up against ;)
@David: Blue is definitely the order of the day. But what are blue balls when there's obviously some other, more serious problem afoot?
Sad yes, but... Sometimes life doesn't work out smoothly. Good stuff dear. Mayhap next week will be a better one for you and hence your literary contrivances.
Rozewolf
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