Weekly Drabble Challenge
With kind permission from the Mods, this is my attempt at launching a weekly drabble challenge. Every Friday I will post a prompt and invite you to drabble your brains out in response.
The rules, such as they are:
1) A drabble is, by definition a 100 word story. As this is a drabble challenge and not a “snippet” challenge, all responses should be ( Read more... )
The rules, such as they are:
1) A drabble is, by definition a 100 word story. As this is a drabble challenge and not a “snippet” challenge, all responses should be ( Read more... )
Comments 298
Preparations
“Annie, I’m not certain…”
“It’s adjustable, see -- different rows of hooks. Are you insinuating...?”
“No, I would never. Is it straight?”
“More than you, obviously. Hold still; I have to shorten these.”
“Should I work on the front while you do that?”
“No, can’t have you bending over. Yet. Okay, now.”
“Dammit, that’s hard when you can’t see what you’re doing. I don’t twist that way!”
“Tell me about it. Want me to?”
“Yes. Please.”
“Okay… slip the stillettos on and you’re ready.”
“How do I look?”
“It isn’t my cuppa, Sam, but since it’s for the Guv…”
(We could consider it a prequel to Dressing Down, except that I didn't ask Andy for permission to.)
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“More than you, obviously.
*sporfle*
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“Because he loved her, why else?”
“I don’t believe in it.”
“In what?”
“In that kind of love.” Sam sighs. “I don’t believe in anything.”
Gene strokes a thumb against his cheek. He draws him close and kisses him, brushing their lips together softly.
“Do you believe in this?”
Sam opens his eyes and he looks at Gene with a pleading honesty. “I wish I could.”
Gene frowns, throws his hands down and walks away. Sam watches him and expels a breath.
“But he killed her.”
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Oooh, nice plot twist in 100. ♥
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Sam smiled, stood, and followed her out. Chris followed them a minute later, undoing his own shirt on the way, smiling. This will be fun.
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I really do like an aggressive Annie. *g*
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My contribution:-
“Annie, love.”
“Don’t you ‘love’ me. Last night you couldn’t live without me. Last night you begged me not to leave you. But this morning….”
Annie paused to take a breath. “At work you spoke to me like I was no different from any of the others. It hurt to be treated like that.”
A hand reached out and cupped her face. “I know, love, but at work I’m your boss. We have to keep up appearances. You know that.”
Annie nodded. She knew that. It didn’t make the hurt any less.
Phyllis smiled. “Good girl. Let’s go home, then.”
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*contributing more*
“…Then I’m no better than a common whore. Is that what you really think of me?”
“Of course not… you’re more than that…”
“Are you sure? Because the net-stockings and the high heels don’t help your case any.”
“Trust the Gene Genie.”
“Last time I trusted you, I nearly had my head blown off.”
“Are you still going on about that?”
“And why shouldn’t I? A person never forgets when he’s nearly shot!”
“Shut it and start strutting your stuff, Gladys. We’ve a murderer to catch.”
“This is the last time I’m going undercover in a strip club with you.”
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‘You like this, don’t you?’
Gene didn’t answer, inhaled silently from his cigarette. Angrily, Sam snatched it away and, to Gene’s astonishment, took a drag that seared the fag down to its filter and flicked it away.
‘Don’t you?’ A smouldering plume rushed past his bruised lips and scurried away into the damp night air. ‘That’s why this happens, all the punching and kicking and it’s not because you hate me, is it? It’s-‘
Gene lunged, slammed him against the bricks again and devoured his mouth. If they were going to cross that line, he’d rather do it without words.
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When the invitation arrived, Sam pointed out the dress code. All he’d received in return was a strange look and a terse, “I can handle it.” So he’d been prepared for the worst: ruffles, or some garish color. Velvet, maybe.
But no, before him stood the ultimate in classic: black and white, dress-weight wool, satin lapels. Tailored.
Gene Hunt in a tux.
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So be gentle with me!
Then Annie came in.
"Annie - C'mere and smell my nuts"
"No Sam. They are all wrinkly and salty"
It was Halloween and it was the CID party. Gene was bringing a Party Seven and everyone was dressing up.
"Whats Ray goin' as?" Asked Chris.
"Think he cut up a sheet to be a ghost" said Sam. "What 'bout you, Chris?"
"I'm coming as the Guv - got a camel coat an' all"
"He'll nail you to the wall" said Annie.
"Are you dressin' up Boss?" asked Chris
"Got a costume at home - I'm a goblin with the Guv"
Annie blushed,coughed.
Be nice to me!
(And I *ahem* knocked up in my lunch break at work....)
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And gobbling with the Guv - lovely. You win the prize so far for the most and best imagery in a single drabble - well done you! (Lovely to see you on Saturday by the way).
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(I just reread the rules. Yay, Annie!)
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I really like Annie. I like the detail in here, of the typing and the sugar in the tea. Thanks! :D
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Sam’s made his decision. He did what it took to come back to here and now, where the forensics are antediluvian, the manners non-existent, and every step he take on the streets of Manchester has to potential to trigger a memory of pain and failure.
Maya has become a distant memory of what might never happen and he finds himself torn on a daily basis between the soothing, socially acceptable feelings he has for Annie and the dangerous, heart-stoppingly intense ones he has for the Guv.
It’s getting easier every day, and that’s what really scares him
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