LJ Idol 28 - Home Game - Here There Be Dragons
Obviously since I'm new to LJ Idol I didn't get a chance in week 1 to choose Winding Up or Here There Be Dragons. I decided to write a home game entry for Here There Be Dragons because... ha, I don't understand "Winding Up."
It was a great opportunity for me to write a little fantasy. Except I didn't. At all. I wrote something extremely taboo and uncomfortable instead. I'm warning you now, because you seriously may not want to read this.
Also, it's not autobiographical in any way... just so no one, you know, gets concerned.
It's also really late in the game. I was more or less gone/busy for a week though. I still wanted to write this.
Her mother had named her Gertrude, after her grandmother, in the vain hope that the name would seem unique and fresh among all the Mackenzie’s and Sydney’s. It didn’t work, and she was stuck with the nickname Granny Gertie throughout elementary.
In middle school, she came up with the brilliant idea to call herself Tru, and that, combined with the acquisition of contact lenses and the loss of her virginity, brought her up several notches in popularity.
“What did it feel like?” the Jordan’s and Hailey’s pressed her.
Tru lied. “It was perfect,” she told them. “I never felt so good in my life.” She told them the guy’s name was David and that he was a junior at another high school. David played guitar and sometimes sent her flowers, until the Cheyenne’s and the Savannah’s got too curious and Tru had to dump him.
“He was just a silly boy,” she said breezily. “I want a man.” She spoke the truth then.
Men wanted her too. Twenty-something Tru slithered through crowds at bars, smiled slyly, hid her fangs. She preferred married men, unabashedly. There was something about a quick fuck in a hotel room that made it all so very simple. She preferred it simple.
“What’s this?” he asked her, his fingers running along her ribcage, tracing the words tattooed there.
“Hic sunt dracones,” she said. She smiled. She couldn’t remember his name.
“Huh.” His tongue dipped into her navel and she moved like a petted animal.
“Here be dragons,” she translated. She pulled his head up to look her in the eyes. “You’re about to go into uncharted territories.”
He snorted. “Yeah right.”
Tru frowned. This was her game, and he was supposed to play along. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Right.”
She expected his eyes to widen, for realization to sink in.
Instead he said, “You’re getting to be a little too infamous for anyone to believe you.” He went on, “My buddy Dave told me about you. He was willing to play along, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m not into the Daddy thing.”
She sat up and pushed him off. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and settled back comfortably against the mattress, folding his arms behind his head. That was when she punched him. Right in the cock.
He screamed profanities and threats at her. “I’ll kill you, you bitch!”
Tru grabbed her clothes. Dressed in seconds. She was out of the room before he could do more than make a feeble attempt to grab her arm. Something wet ran down her cheeks, and she was surprised to find that she was crying. Tru pulled out her cell phone and hit her speed dial.
She took a shuddering breath. “Daddy?”
Thirteen years old, a hot, sticky summer night. Gertrude lies in bed, fingers exploring between her legs. Her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see her bedroom door open, doesn’t hear it, because her father hadn’t knocked. He stares at her, naked and spread out on her bed, panting for breath, and he doesn’t leave.
Don't forget to check out the contestants' entries at LJ Idol. Amazing stuff over there. Read and vote!
It was a great opportunity for me to write a little fantasy. Except I didn't. At all. I wrote something extremely taboo and uncomfortable instead. I'm warning you now, because you seriously may not want to read this.
Also, it's not autobiographical in any way... just so no one, you know, gets concerned.
It's also really late in the game. I was more or less gone/busy for a week though. I still wanted to write this.
Her mother had named her Gertrude, after her grandmother, in the vain hope that the name would seem unique and fresh among all the Mackenzie’s and Sydney’s. It didn’t work, and she was stuck with the nickname Granny Gertie throughout elementary.
In middle school, she came up with the brilliant idea to call herself Tru, and that, combined with the acquisition of contact lenses and the loss of her virginity, brought her up several notches in popularity.
“What did it feel like?” the Jordan’s and Hailey’s pressed her.
Tru lied. “It was perfect,” she told them. “I never felt so good in my life.” She told them the guy’s name was David and that he was a junior at another high school. David played guitar and sometimes sent her flowers, until the Cheyenne’s and the Savannah’s got too curious and Tru had to dump him.
“He was just a silly boy,” she said breezily. “I want a man.” She spoke the truth then.
Men wanted her too. Twenty-something Tru slithered through crowds at bars, smiled slyly, hid her fangs. She preferred married men, unabashedly. There was something about a quick fuck in a hotel room that made it all so very simple. She preferred it simple.
“What’s this?” he asked her, his fingers running along her ribcage, tracing the words tattooed there.
“Hic sunt dracones,” she said. She smiled. She couldn’t remember his name.
“Huh.” His tongue dipped into her navel and she moved like a petted animal.
“Here be dragons,” she translated. She pulled his head up to look her in the eyes. “You’re about to go into uncharted territories.”
He snorted. “Yeah right.”
Tru frowned. This was her game, and he was supposed to play along. “Yeah,” she said softly. “Right.”
She expected his eyes to widen, for realization to sink in.
Instead he said, “You’re getting to be a little too infamous for anyone to believe you.” He went on, “My buddy Dave told me about you. He was willing to play along, but I’ll tell you right now, I’m not into the Daddy thing.”
She sat up and pushed him off. He rolled his eyes at the ceiling and settled back comfortably against the mattress, folding his arms behind his head. That was when she punched him. Right in the cock.
He screamed profanities and threats at her. “I’ll kill you, you bitch!”
Tru grabbed her clothes. Dressed in seconds. She was out of the room before he could do more than make a feeble attempt to grab her arm. Something wet ran down her cheeks, and she was surprised to find that she was crying. Tru pulled out her cell phone and hit her speed dial.
She took a shuddering breath. “Daddy?”
Thirteen years old, a hot, sticky summer night. Gertrude lies in bed, fingers exploring between her legs. Her eyes are closed, so she doesn’t see her bedroom door open, doesn’t hear it, because her father hadn’t knocked. He stares at her, naked and spread out on her bed, panting for breath, and he doesn’t leave.
Don't forget to check out the contestants' entries at LJ Idol. Amazing stuff over there. Read and vote!