After the Tears by D. X. Luc

I left him in tears. It shouldn’t have ended this way but it did.

“He needed this to happen. We both did right?” I asked no one in particular. There’s no one to answer back anyway.

So if this is the case, why can’t I get out of bed? Why do I lay here and question my decision?

The phone rings and it takes every ounce of care I didn’t have to pick it up. “Hello?”

“What did you do?” The angry voice questioned.

Did I really want to get into it? Yeah. Yeah I did. I took a deep inhale and let the truth spill forth.

“I tried to do it simple. Like you told me, but the conversation went to shit from the start.” I paused as the memory pieced itself back together. “He didn’t take it well at all. He was so angry at me for all the lies. The years lost to my selfishness.”

“Go on,” The recipient coaxed.

“There was a lot of yelling, mostly crying on my part. Then I walked out. His tears were the last sound I heard.”

“That’s it? He didn’t try to stop you?”

“No. Now, I lay here doing nothing.” Not for long thoughI thought. Daddy P, my pimp got me now. My real father? Left crying at home.

A knock at the motel door and a man walks in. Time for my new life.

On the phone my orders come, “Go make Daddy money. You my bitch now.”

Website: http://welcome-to-the-island-of-dxluc.blogspot.com/
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/authordxluc


OMG By Lizbeth Selvig

“Cut. CUT!” Darren Patrick waved his flamboyant hands and glared around the set. “Oh-Em-Gee, what is going on today?”

Bethany couldn’t stop an eye roll. James, behind his Pentax, winked back.

“This shoot simply must wrap today, and you—”Darren, one foot-stomp shy of a tantrum, pointed at Bethany, “are supposed to be my star. Have you completely forgotten how to be sexy? Shooting lingerie ads is supposed to be fun, darling.”

Working in lacy underthings was as normal as wearing a bikini, but Bethany suddenly felt exposed.

“No.” Her voice went smooth as the satin on her scallop-edged bra. “You’ve forgotten how to be human.”

Two minutes later, hot and angry, she lay on the settee in her dressing room. Glamorous lingerie model. Hah! Even James, who made her heart triple-time its beat, was so jaded he didn’t notice sexy. Much less her true self.

The knock on the door didn’t surprise her—likely a lecture on decorum. “Come in, Darren.”

“Not Darren.”

Her breath caught, and surprise had its moment.

“Sorry.” James looked directly into...her eyes? “I came to tell you you’re marvelous.”

“I, what?” She started to sit, but he shook his head and knelt.  

“Darren’s wrong. You could never forget how to be sexy. But,” he finger-combed the glossy black hair spread out behind her. “Telling him off? That was sexiest of all. I’ve wanted so long to tell you about my crush, but figured you’d think I was just another jerk looking to date a model.”

“Crush?” She stared.

“Big time.”

She ran a finger along his jaw, quivering. “That’s unbelievable.”

“Why?”

“I have a crush on you too.”

Silently, she thanked Darren and his temper tantrum and pulled James’s mouth to hers.

Follow Lizbeth

His Liar By Suzzana C Ryan

Tammy wanted him. She waited for him. There was no darkness in her life any longer, he’d brought the daylight. Jamal was a rare creature, he could shift at will and at any time, but he had a dark side the one that required blood, her blood.

He had asked her to wear only white this visit and she always obeyed him. This morning she’d belong to him and only him, so she waited. He’d start his seduction of her by taking a small taste of her first, bringing her to her first climax. He’d stay down on her until her body relaxed tumbling euphorically back to reality. His next seduction would involve his cock and a shape shift. Jamal hated his human form.

It was against his laws and human laws that he’d take her as the animal he adored existing as, El Lobo, a huge fierce black wolf. Bestiality, they called it, yet Jamal was allowed the taste, the honor of creating sweet pleasure for her with his wolf tongue.  Though Tammy told him she’d welcome him as his beast into her. He promised her there would come a day.

This morning she’d take her first step in becoming another creature. His bite would start the process; vampire first, then shape shifter.  For Jamal was both, and who he’d chosen as his mate would be the same.

So she waited a vision in white for her date with destiny, on her bed, in the light of day.  Love, truly conquers all.

Follow Suzzana

The Room by Dahlia DeWinters

The ceiling needed painting.  For the price she'd heard they charged per room, one would think that some of that money would go into maintenance.  She smiled to herself.  It was more likely the bulk of that money went to protecting the clientele's anonymity. 

The cracked ceiling was one of the things she always noticed about the room.  That, and the worn but expensive furniture and elaborate drapes that together served to create an old but genteel  atmosphere.  This room was their escape from the shiny modern world outside the clouded windows. 

Every week she told herself that she wasn't coming back and every week she would watch the clock over her desk, waiting for the minute hand to set her free from the drudgery that had become her life.  From Monday to Friday she longed for the time where she stepped out  of her everyday persona and entered their fairyland, where she was an indulged queen and he was her ardent, generous king.

She shifted on the rumpled sheets,  her fingers trailing across her exposed abdomen.  Glancing at her watch, which she would remove when he arrived, she noted that he had five minutes.  He was never late.

How long would she continue this game, this play-acting that took her away from the mundane?  When would she allowed her feet to touch the earth again?

A subtle knock echoed through the glossy mahogany of the door.  She removed her watch, tossed it on the nightstand.

"I'm here,"  she called.

Find Dahlia

Nubile Bauble for Sale, by Holley Trent

“Step up! Ladies and gentlemen, she’s a treat for the eyes—laying lithe and supine for your inspection.” Mathias cocked up the brim of his top hat and winked to the amassing crowd.

At the sound of a muffled giggle from within the compartment, he flinched.

No one saw. Their eyes were locked on the doorway, their necks craned for a glimpse of the promised feast inside.

“Is she legal?” the gravelly-voiced Baldalian asked from near the steps.

Mathias performed a low bow. He hated Baldalians, but they usually had deep pockets to go along with their appetites for warm flesh. Mathias was counting on that.

“Legal in all four sectors,” he answered.

One by one, they climbed the steps and silently assessed his nubile bauble.

And one by one, they brought him their bids.

The Baldalian won. The others left, and Mathias called after them, “Until next time, friends.”

The Baldalian gave Mathias some golden coins and an address.

Mathias removed one of his leather gloves and shook the larger man’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you,” he said.

The Baldalian’s yellow eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the dusty ground.

Iris, still clad in only her lacy white underthings, hopped out of her compartment and secured the small spacecraft’s flaps.

Mathias started the pre-launch sequence.

“How far will we get?” she asked.

“To the Ring World, I think.”

Her teeth worried at her lush bottom lip as she thought. “So we’re halfway to Earth?”

“Yes, my love. Halfway.”

Follow Holley

            The other day my son made this statement to my husband. “When you talk about the things you can’t stand that people do momma does them all.  Why did you marry her?”  His response.  “She wasn’t that way when I married her.”  I’m not saying it was a slap in the face…okay, so it was.  It’s common to be disgusted by weight gain or that your spouse doesn’t clean up or maybe their family drives you to the point you want to murder; most of those things can be changed by exercise, a slight change in hygiene or cutting back on family picnics.  But every part of a person’s personality?  I guess I’m lucky I have a nice ass or I might have completely lost my family.

            As we get older we’re supposed to get better right?  We learn from our failures and grow into better people.  Is my husband the same person he was when we got married?  Yes.  That doesn’t mean he hasn’t learned and grown as a human being, but at the core he’s still the same guy.  Was who I was then or who I am now the real me?

            I recently was reminded that I’d stolen a car and drove about myself sixty miles back home after a failed date.  I don’t remember telling my friends in 2002 that I’d love to be a writer, but I did.  My husband says I used to have a ton of friends and spoke my mind without a care.  Like my husband said, “If your mother cared what people thought would she have never married me.”  I guess that’s true, but where does that put me now?

            The conversations about who I am and used to be had me crying.  I would never tell my family because I’ve conditioned myself not to blurt out or share my emotions.  That doesn’t make my husband bad or me weak; it’s an adjustment I made probably because one or two times he was in a bad mood and I hit him with something and was snapped at.  Seeing my behavior as a failure, I stopped.

            I think the last time the “old” me emerged in front of them was at a football game when someone had the nerve to comment on how my husband was holding the sticks and talking with the ref.  The funny thing is, when people snap at me for the same behavior I curl into myself.  But someone questioning my man…well let’s just say I had to take over holding the sticks because my husband had to handle the situation I created.  Mind you my husband has told me for years, “You have six-eleven black man behind you always, don’t let people talk stuff to you.”

            The one time I use the virtue allotted to me through the marriage vows it backfired big time.  I received a lecture and ended up crying, because there are two things I’m liable to go all Mama Bear about, my son and my man. 

            Those who’ve followed me for a while know I’m a scouter.  I have many scouting activities and duties.  My son has stepped away as of late, but I’m still involved.  As I’m reassessing my life I began to realize why.  My husband will tell you some Freudian BS about trying to win my father’s approval…blah, blah…Okay maybe in the beginning, but somewhere around year two of my involvement I believe there was a split in me.

            I was good at being a scouter and I could be a nerdy, jackass, goofball, in fact I was encouraged to be one.  There’s a slight rush I’d have while there and I believe it’s because the “old” me still lives there.  Now, that’s not to say some the new me isn’t sadly there also, especially when it comes to my son, but this year with him no longer around has brought the smart ass car thief back.

            Unlike most people I can pretty much pinpoint the death of the old me to exact moments.  These were times when I lost my fight and when I tried to fight back I was shoved back down. The first was the loss of my identical twins at seven weeks gestation followed by a year of failed infertility treatments.  The knock out punch and the shove.  The second was when I left my job in the Emergency Room.  I thought I was doing it for my own mental health and although I love the flexibility and the management team over me at my current job I have very little human interaction.  You see I work from home and only have to be “in-house” four times a year.  The mental challenges I have are no longer life and death, they’re computations.  Even those are fleeting.  Although, yes technically I could try to go back to my old ER or a new one it really wouldn’t work for my family.   Returning doesn’t insure the old me would be back.  Push, and then shove back down.

            The final nail in the coffin, as it were, was my son’s third grade football team.  I was still my old self.  Making, what I thought, were friends only to be slapped with backbiting and stabbing at the end of the season.  The worst part is what the parents were upset about we would have adjusted if they would have just talked to my husband and I.  This was followed up with years of the same people attacking my husband and son and I was afraid to attack back because of repercussions for both of them.  I’ve been suppressing my inner Mama Bear, hence why when she snaps it’s for many slights not just the one in front of me.  When I fought, I was shoved back down, then I just stopped.

            I’ve now learned I’m going to have to fight dirty because suppressing the real me has worse repercussions then what I’d feared would happen to my son.  My son and my husband can survive anything my mouth dishes out (I hope) because my family can’t survive me being safe.  You’ve now all been warned, the “real” me is coming out so don’t be stupid enough to leave your car keys lying around.

           

            Have you ever had a meltdown?  Of course you have.  We all have them.  Who was there to bring you back to earth?  Was it your mom?  A babysitter?  A best friend?  Your partner?  We all have them and they are usually over something that seemed important at the time.  I wonder what Claire would think as she got older about this little meltdown from The Guardian’s Heart…mind you she is only two and half.

Don't forget to go all the way to the bottom to enter and win.



Biology is the least of what makes someone a mother. -Oprah Winfrey

“I wanna my mama,” Claire screamed on the playground as she held her bloodied knee.

“Claire, it’ll be okay. Just let me look at it,” Mandy said, trying to calm down Claire’s tantrum. She’d been running across the playground in the back of the daycare when she fell down.

“Wants mama Bee Ms. Mand,” Claire pleaded.

Normally the staff would try to calm the child down themselves. Even little Lukey knew he wouldn’t get Mary Beth if he cried for her. To him all of the owners might as well be his mother. But Mandy was shocked. Initially she thought Claire was asking for her real mom, not Gabbie.

Gabbie was rocking a baby in the infant room while the devastated Claire sat sobbing in the lobby. Mandy came in and shook her head at Gabbie.

“What?”

“Claire wants her mother,” Mandy said with her hands on her hips.

“Oh, well…” Gabbie always got a pain her chest when any of the Thomases talked about their parents. It was still so fresh.

“Bee, her mother Bee.”

“She called me her mother?” Gabbie said, a little set back.

Claire had said some things over the past few weeks that she was a good mama, but to say she was her mama…Gabbie stood up and put the now sleeping Jane in one of the cribs.

In the lobby, Claire sat on the bench by a set of cubbies with her injured leg elevated.

“Mama, I’s toreded my preddies,” Claire said as her bottom lip trembled.

“I see that,” Gabbie said, sitting on her knees in front of Claire and opening the first aid kit Mandy had left on the bench.

“My preddies no more,” Claire cried as Gabbie put on latex free gloves and started to clean Claire’s injured knee.

The fact she’d hurt herself was not the reason Claire was crying. She had torn her tights or “pretties” as she liked to call them. Claire cherished every one of her pretties. Gabbie had learned Claire was very much a girl, something Gabbie never was. Gabbie never cared about dresses or sparkly shoes when she was growing up, but to Claire they were a necessity.

As Gabbie pulled down Claire’s soft pink tights with the lacy backs, Claire looked as if she was being skinned alive. Whatever pain she felt from her scraped knee could have been as great as an amputation, she’d never acknowledge it compared to losing a set a tights to a hole in the knee.

“Mama inks my bess,” Claire sobbed as if she was just shot through the heart with an arrow.

“You still have your white and your blue and your orange pretties and don’t forget your ones with the little flowers on them.”

“I’s never gets better preddies…” she declared with all the melodrama befitting Scarlett O’Hara declaring her love for Tara.

“These pretties were almost too small for you, you’ve been growing so much. How about this?” Gabbie suggested, trying to hold back from laughing in the poor child’s face. To Claire this was life or death. “Your daddy and I will pick you up a new pair on the way home and maybe some big girl underwear since you’ve been doing so good on the potty. These pretties were made for little girls that wear diapers.”

Claire’s eyes perked up. She started to smile, but only briefly, holding the now-torn tights to her heart as she stood up and stuck her chest out.

“Dees was bestest preddies ever,” one little crystal tear fell from her dark mahogany left eye, catching on her soft lash then flowing down her chubby cheek.

Gabbie gave Claire a hug to hide the fact she was about to piss her pants from laughing. She released Claire, who returned to the toddler room still clutching her torn tights and Gabbie fell back on the floor and covered her face with her hand so she could laugh without hurting any feelings.

“Is it safe now,” Mandy said holding her gut as she gasped for air. “I lost it when…when she said…” Mandy couldn’t hold in her laughter. “I’s never gets better pretties. Did you see her lip quivering?”

“She’s in pain right now,” Gabbie said, trying to be serious. Instead, she ended up rolling on her stomach. “My daughter is such a drama queen.”

“Your what?” Mandy said, catching her breath. “Gabbie, she’s not your daughter.”

“I just called her my daughter,” Gabbie sat up and put her head in her hands. What was she thinking?

“Yeah, you and Case have been together a month and you’re already claiming children that aren’t even his as yours.”


Check out all the other blogs click here.