One short story I wrote a while ago, another one will be up shortly.
STORY # 1
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GIVE HER SOME WHISKEY
She saw me as I stared at those long, lean legs. Her firm, tight ass, molded and shaped by those black spike heels, beckoned to my eyes. Her soft blond hair shined a light of its own. I'm sure it matched the carpet.
As I said, she saw me, she saw through me, she saw behind me. The way a man sees a grovelling pig. I am compelled to look and wallow in her disgust.
I turn to the bartender and tell him I'd like to giver herthe old turkey neck.
He laughs.
Encouraged by his response I ask him what he thinks about her perfect globes.
Again he laughs.
I ask him what he means by his laughter.
He tells me to talk to this woman and buy her a whiskey, she won't refuse whiskey. Do this and I'll find out.
I go and ask if I can buy her a drink. She accepts but ignores me as she drinks. Again I ask if she'd like a drink. Accept, ignore. Again, accept. ignore. She begins to giggle. Again, accept, ignore. Again, accept, exception. She begins to talk, we begin to talk, we stop talking. I take her back to my place.
My place, a broken down motel. Peeled paint, broken lights, broken glass.
My room, empty cans, dirty clothes, broken bed springs.
I, being the ever accomodating host, bring out a pint of cheap whiskey that I had acquired on the way here.
She drinks straight as I crack open anther beer. Her dress falling sloppily from her shoulder is very alluring.
I kiss her and meet no resistance to my beer stained tongue. Her sweet, cherry lips part slightly. I grab her firm breast and clasp her round ass
No resistance.
I tear open her dress reaveling large, floppy, sagging.
I bring it to my mouth. Teeth, hard sharp and vengeful.
No resitance.
I pick her up and throw her on hte bed. I caress her feet, calves, thighs. As I lift the dress. . .
No rsistance.
The next morning the phone is ringing. It doesn't stop.
My head pounding at 20 rings
Ignore it.
The room vibrates around 30 rings
Ignore it.
Almost insane at 37 rings
I pick it up.
It's the bartender with the advice (How'd he get my number??).
He wants to know if I found the meaning of his laughter.
I moan.
He laughs.
He tells me he knows how it feels.
He tells me he wishes he hadn't given me advice.
And he asks me if her turkey neck was bigger than mine.
I groan.
He laughs.
----------
GIVE HER SOME WHISKEY
She saw me as I stared at those long, lean legs. Her firm, tight ass, molded and shaped by those black spike heels, beckoned to my eyes. Her soft blond hair shined a light of its own. I'm sure it matched the carpet.
As I said, she saw me, she saw through me, she saw behind me. The way a man sees a grovelling pig. I am compelled to look and wallow in her disgust.
I turn to the bartender and tell him I'd like to giver herthe old turkey neck.
He laughs.
Encouraged by his response I ask him what he thinks about her perfect globes.
Again he laughs.
I ask him what he means by his laughter.
He tells me to talk to this woman and buy her a whiskey, she won't refuse whiskey. Do this and I'll find out.
I go and ask if I can buy her a drink. She accepts but ignores me as she drinks. Again I ask if she'd like a drink. Accept, ignore. Again, accept. ignore. She begins to giggle. Again, accept, ignore. Again, accept, exception. She begins to talk, we begin to talk, we stop talking. I take her back to my place.
My place, a broken down motel. Peeled paint, broken lights, broken glass.
My room, empty cans, dirty clothes, broken bed springs.
I, being the ever accomodating host, bring out a pint of cheap whiskey that I had acquired on the way here.
She drinks straight as I crack open anther beer. Her dress falling sloppily from her shoulder is very alluring.
I kiss her and meet no resistance to my beer stained tongue. Her sweet, cherry lips part slightly. I grab her firm breast and clasp her round ass
No resistance.
I tear open her dress reaveling large, floppy, sagging.
I bring it to my mouth. Teeth, hard sharp and vengeful.
No resitance.
I pick her up and throw her on hte bed. I caress her feet, calves, thighs. As I lift the dress. . .
No rsistance.
The next morning the phone is ringing. It doesn't stop.
My head pounding at 20 rings
Ignore it.
The room vibrates around 30 rings
Ignore it.
Almost insane at 37 rings
I pick it up.
It's the bartender with the advice (How'd he get my number??).
He wants to know if I found the meaning of his laughter.
I moan.
He laughs.
He tells me he knows how it feels.
He tells me he wishes he hadn't given me advice.
And he asks me if her turkey neck was bigger than mine.
I groan.
He laughs.