Announcement/Story
Since I hardly use this thing at all these days, I've decided to start post my Creatif Stuffe here on a semi-regular basis. This is the writing I do for my paper, The Water Tower. I apologize for long posts. I've long since forgotten how to do a cut.
Here's the first one:
A Cheesy Encounter
The doorbell rang as Joan was in the midst of her nightly workout routine. Every night for the past six months she had been working toward getting back into peak physical condition. To prepare herself to reclaim the title that was rightfully hers, as a world kick-boxing champion. She was so absorbed in the swift series of kicks that she was pummeling her punching bag with, that at first she didn’t even hear the small chiming from the front door.
The bell sounded again, longer this time, and this time it was enough to pierce Joan’s concentration. She paused, wondering if the sound had been in her imagination. Then the doorbell rang for a third time, whoever was at the door was as insistent and stubborn as she was. Joan liked that in a late-night visitor.
She walked toward the door, grabbing a towel on the way to wipe some of the sweat from her now glistening brow, and turned the knob just as the doorbell began to sound again. She swung the door open and then suddenly, before her very eyes, he was there. The most gorgeous man she had ever seen.
He towered above her, he was easily more than six feet, and his entire frame bulged out with deliciously developed muscles. He wore a red shirt that seemed too small for him, as it could obviously only barely contain his pectoral perfection. A quick glance down showed that his jeans were similarly tight, offering a generous outline of his most intimate territory. Joan hurriedly looked up though, to take a closer look at this unexpected but not unwanted visitor. Mysteriously, he had a cap drawn over his eyes. Joan could see a hint of raven locks trying to free themselves from the cloth prison, but besides that she could only see a fine, Roman nose above a grim-set mouth upon a chiseled jaw. It made her heart ache to see more.
“Hello,” Joan said, her voice trailing out like syrup from a fresh bottle, “can I…help you?”
The Adonis-like man suddenly tilted his head up and Joan’s heart caught in her throat as she gazed into the most mystifying blue eyes she had ever seen. They were mysterious, alluring, and enticing; they dared her to do things she had never dreamed of before. Her knees suddenly felt weak.
“Yes.” His voice sounded like thunder at midnight. “I have…a pizza for you.”
As though in a dream Joan gazed down at his manly, rugged hands. They did indeed hold a tell-tale square box. The scent of cheesy goodness wafted from it into her delicate nostrils, affecting her like only the strongest of aphrodisiacs could. She stared into the man’s eyes again, feeling plagued with two kinds of hunger.
“There must be some mistake,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the thick, humid air of the night. “I didn’t order any pizza.”
He looked her up and down, his piercing gaze seeming to tear her sweaty clothes from her right there in the doorway. “This is 93 Magnolia Lane…isn’t it?”
“No,” said Joan, absently running her hand up and down the wooden frame of the door, “this is Magnolia Crescent. You’ll want to drive several blocks…up.”
He stared at her a moment longer and she reveled in his smoky, mysterious gaze. Then he took a step back into the dark night that he had come from. “I suppose so. I’m sorry to have…bothered you.” He turned and walked slowly toward his car, muscles rippling beneath his tight clothes.
“Don’t worry,” Joan called, wistfully admiring his frame from this new angle, “it was no…trouble.” Then she hastily closed the door, frightened of what she might do if it stayed open a moment longer.
She sighed, pressing her back against the nearest wall, then took a deep breath, willing herself to forget the mysterious pizza man.
“Well, that was weird,” she said, and she walked back to her punching bag so she could get back to more important things.
Here's the first one:
A Cheesy Encounter
The doorbell rang as Joan was in the midst of her nightly workout routine. Every night for the past six months she had been working toward getting back into peak physical condition. To prepare herself to reclaim the title that was rightfully hers, as a world kick-boxing champion. She was so absorbed in the swift series of kicks that she was pummeling her punching bag with, that at first she didn’t even hear the small chiming from the front door.
The bell sounded again, longer this time, and this time it was enough to pierce Joan’s concentration. She paused, wondering if the sound had been in her imagination. Then the doorbell rang for a third time, whoever was at the door was as insistent and stubborn as she was. Joan liked that in a late-night visitor.
She walked toward the door, grabbing a towel on the way to wipe some of the sweat from her now glistening brow, and turned the knob just as the doorbell began to sound again. She swung the door open and then suddenly, before her very eyes, he was there. The most gorgeous man she had ever seen.
He towered above her, he was easily more than six feet, and his entire frame bulged out with deliciously developed muscles. He wore a red shirt that seemed too small for him, as it could obviously only barely contain his pectoral perfection. A quick glance down showed that his jeans were similarly tight, offering a generous outline of his most intimate territory. Joan hurriedly looked up though, to take a closer look at this unexpected but not unwanted visitor. Mysteriously, he had a cap drawn over his eyes. Joan could see a hint of raven locks trying to free themselves from the cloth prison, but besides that she could only see a fine, Roman nose above a grim-set mouth upon a chiseled jaw. It made her heart ache to see more.
“Hello,” Joan said, her voice trailing out like syrup from a fresh bottle, “can I…help you?”
The Adonis-like man suddenly tilted his head up and Joan’s heart caught in her throat as she gazed into the most mystifying blue eyes she had ever seen. They were mysterious, alluring, and enticing; they dared her to do things she had never dreamed of before. Her knees suddenly felt weak.
“Yes.” His voice sounded like thunder at midnight. “I have…a pizza for you.”
As though in a dream Joan gazed down at his manly, rugged hands. They did indeed hold a tell-tale square box. The scent of cheesy goodness wafted from it into her delicate nostrils, affecting her like only the strongest of aphrodisiacs could. She stared into the man’s eyes again, feeling plagued with two kinds of hunger.
“There must be some mistake,” she whispered, her voice barely audible in the thick, humid air of the night. “I didn’t order any pizza.”
He looked her up and down, his piercing gaze seeming to tear her sweaty clothes from her right there in the doorway. “This is 93 Magnolia Lane…isn’t it?”
“No,” said Joan, absently running her hand up and down the wooden frame of the door, “this is Magnolia Crescent. You’ll want to drive several blocks…up.”
He stared at her a moment longer and she reveled in his smoky, mysterious gaze. Then he took a step back into the dark night that he had come from. “I suppose so. I’m sorry to have…bothered you.” He turned and walked slowly toward his car, muscles rippling beneath his tight clothes.
“Don’t worry,” Joan called, wistfully admiring his frame from this new angle, “it was no…trouble.” Then she hastily closed the door, frightened of what she might do if it stayed open a moment longer.
She sighed, pressing her back against the nearest wall, then took a deep breath, willing herself to forget the mysterious pizza man.
“Well, that was weird,” she said, and she walked back to her punching bag so she could get back to more important things.