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Why I Write
When I write, I draw on my experiences as a woman with a painful past, a rapturous wife and mother, a world traveler, and a spiritualist. For me, writing is an art form. Like an artist, the work becomes more than I imagined it would be. When I set out to write a story with a particular idea or character in mind, words I cannot claim as my own flow from a magical and mysterious place through me and onto paper. The work takes on a life of its own; it is living art. The process fascinates me, satiates me, and makes my life more meaningful.
Please read my stories! If you would like to offer me feedback on my work, please click here and sign up for a free membership: https://heftynicki.Writing.com
I hope to see you there!
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Love: Reflections #635618 added February 14, 2009 at 10:30am
Restrictions: None
Day 8 - Awake *Caution: Erotica*
An Orange (or Coral) Rose Symbolizes Enthusiasm, Desire, Fascination.
For Day 8, write a short story (up to 3,000 words, and post the word limit at the bottom of the item) about enthusiasm, desire, fascination. This is the place for the erotica entries! Though your entry doesn't have to be erotica. You can also use the image as a prompt as well.
 
Awake
Becca Triste nudged the beige pile of discarded Anne Taylor clothing into a corner of the dressing room and surveyed her naked body reflected in the three-way mirror. Her figure looked gaunt; her hip bones seemed to stand out, and there was a space where her inner thighs didn’t meet. She let her head drop gently to one side, and a long, amber lock of hair fell across her narrow shoulder. It had been ages since she’d looked at herself this way, and even longer since she’d seen herself. The fog in her life was lifting. It scared her to death, but put a flutter in her stomach that, when she concentrated on it, traveled down and warmed her to the core.
She reached for the multi-colored frock and pulled it off its hanger. The dense fabric felt light-weight as she pulled it over her head, and it unfurled down her body. The neckline that fit close to her throat and the sleeveless bodice worked together to accentuated her full bosom, and the heavy drape of the dress made her slim form appear pixie-like. She swayed her hips slowly from one side to the other, enjoying the way the hem brushed the skin at mid- thigh. Becca smiled for the first time, it seemed, in a year. Tearing her gaze from her reflection, she bent to gather from the floor the clothes she’d been wearing, and walked out of the dressing room.
“Did everything work out?” the salesgirl at the register asked, eyeing the tags hanging in Becca’s armpit.
Becca dropped the neutral-colored mass of fabric on the counter and smiled. “Yes, I’ll take the dress. Do you have a pair of scissors? Oh, and I won’t need these.”
The girl looked down at the expensive cloths heaped between them. Becca noticed that the girl’s eye shadow was the same sea green as the eyes that snapped up a moment later. “Um, you don’t want to take your clothes with you? …. Can I have them?”
Out on the sidewalk, Becca turned and walked toward the ocean. The sun warmed her face and the late spring breeze swirled around her legs and billowed the dress skirt, sending a tantalizing coolness up to the skin usually concealed behind panties. She suddenly felt untamed and beautiful. A man passed her and out of the corner of her eye, she saw him turn to appreciate her backside. A confidence she hadn’t known before brought a curl to her lip as she smiled to herself. See, Charles? I guess I am desirable, even if you couldn’t see it.
The street dead-ended perpendicular with the beach, and the horizon before her would have been an exquisite sight had there not been a brownish glow of smog keeping the sea and sky from meeting. Becca turned onto Ocean Drive and made her way to “Good Eats.” The atmosphere of the bistro was ‘beach casual’ and reflected the obsessive Californian attitude to appear relaxed and fabulous at the same time. Under the blue and white awning in front of the café, Becca slid onto a wooden chair, careful to keep the fabric of her dress between her skin and the seat. A waiter sauntered over immediately.
“Hi. What can I get you?”
Becca felt a flush creep across her cheeks as she gazed into deep, chocolate eyes fringed with the thickest black lashes she had ever seen. She realized the pause between his question and her response was longer than it should have been, and she tossed her head, self-conscious. “Just a coffee, thanks. Black.”
The waiter hesitated, then smiled, a deep dimple appearing on one cheek. “Coming right up.” She watched as he walked to the door, noticed his how his back tapered to form a ‘v’ from his broad shoulders to his waist. His gait was fluid, graceful, and drew her eyes to a point below his belt just as he disappeared through the door. She drew a full breath of salty air through her nose and held it there before blowing it back out.
Looking toward the beach, her attention was drawn to a tall, lanky man jogging on the boardwalk. He reminded her of Charles, the way he carried a sense of arrogance in his stride, and checked his watch as he ran. It seemed like she’d been married to Charles for a hundred years, instead of just three. She remembered the wedding, and some of the first year, but somewhere along the way she seemed to have fallen asleep. When she’d realized he was cheating on her, she’d felt disoriented like a patient coming out of a coma. She didn’t recognize the person she’d become.
She blamed Charles. His controlling manner had endeared her to him in the beginning. She’d mistaken it for love, how he cared for her. He bought her clothes, but they reflected a style he liked her in, and not what she preferred. He drew her into his world, ignoring her priorities. She’d been so eager to please him that she’d lost herself completely. The passion between them waned, and the day she found the carefully hidden file containing jewelry and restaurant receipts for a credit card she didn’t know existed in Charles’ name, she’d begun to understand why.
She started when the cup of coffee was placed in front of her. A faint scent of cologne danced on the ocean breeze, and she felt the waiter’s breath of her cheek as he bent over and asked, “What’s your name?”
Her heart pounded as sudden heat rose in her body. She blinked rapidly trying to calm herself as she said, “I’m Becca. And you are?”
“Steven. It’s nice to meet you, Becca.”
Their eyes locked; Becca couldn’t look away. Her chin rose slightly and words she didn’t plan to say tumbled out of her mouth. “Steven, can you sit with me a minute?”
Steven smiled, showing perfect teeth. “Actually, you’re my last customer. How about I buy you that coffee while I cash out, and then I’ll join you?”
He returned a few minutes later with a second cup of coffee, and settled into the seat across from her. The conversation was easy, as each flattered the other at every opportunity. Becca watched his chiseled features as he spoke about his struggling career as an artist, his dreams of making a name for himself, and his hometown back in Indiana. She enjoyed his full attention as she explained that she was new in the neighborhood, starting a job at Chiat/Day advertising, and a bit about her east coast upbringing. She didn’t mention her recent divorce from Charles. The evening was coming on when Steven suggested they walk on the beach to enjoy the sunset.
They carried their shoes and headed into the sand. The powdery texture caressed Becca’s bare feet, and the dusky air stroked her skin. The sunset glow played off Steven’s suntanned features, and Becca could no longer ignore her growing desire for him.
They reached a deserted stretch of beach, and Steven reached for Becca’s hand. With a playful tug, he pulled her close to him. His fingertips cupped her face. She let her eyelids drop as his mouth closed on hers, and for a moment that sent her heart skipping, his parted lips grazed hers with deliberate tenderness before he deepened the kiss. Shock waves of desire washed over her. When they pulled apart, Steven kept Becca in his embrace, and he rested his chin on the top of her head as they laughed. Her nose nestled his neck where the musky perfume was intoxicating. Before she knew it, they were kissing again.
The sky grew steadily dark and still no one was near. They sank to the sand, becoming more adventuresome with their hands. Steven cupped Becca’s neck, and then trailed a finger across the bodice of her dress to the top of her breast. The excitement of his touch and the breeze off the water had her nipple stiff and erect, and Steven traced it tenderly before capturing it between his thumb and finger and gently squeezing. Sensation coursed through Becca’s body and a moan escaped her as her head dropped back. Steven moved his lips over her exposed throat, kissing her skin and tracing circles with his tongue. He pressed his body closer to hers, and she urged him down on top of her.
Becca moved her hands from his back and down his sides, massaging the firm muscles under his shirt. When she got to his waist, she let one hand follow his belt to the buckle. He shifted his weight, allowing enough room for her exploring hand to slip down between them atop the bulge of his jeans. The fabric was hot to the touch, and she pressed on it. His mouth hesitated mid-kiss and she cupped her hand again on its mark, this time with more pressure. She drove her tongue deep into his mouth as she tugged at his belt. It easily came apart giving her more room, and she walked her fingers down his skin under the front of his pants.
Steven broke the kiss and looked down at Becca in the dark, asking her permission with his eyes. She answered by staring back into his eyes, and closing her hand around his swollen shaft. Steven tugged open the button fly to free his straining manhood. Steven’s eyes lost their focus for a moment, and he kissed Becca tenderly. Then he looked quickly up and down the beach to be sure they were still alone. He reached into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a wallet. With one deft hand he extracted a flat, square package, tore it open and rolled the condom over his rod.
He reached for Becca’s leg, and ran his hand up the back of her thigh to her buttock. Feeling no panties, he pulled back from her and smiled. She met his amused grin with a sly smile, and pulled him back to her mouth. Steven brought his hand across her smooth stomach and down between her legs as she strained her hips to meet it. He grazed her quivering skin with a thumb, and then moved a finger into her wetness.
Becca groaned and kissed Steven fiercer than before. He pulled his finger free and moved on top of her. He hesitated suddenly, planting delicate kisses first on her top lip, then on her bottom. She flicked her tongue at each kiss. Then he parted her lips and found her tongue with his, and drove his shaft into her. Their motions were rhythmic; at each thrust they paused, grinding their bodies together. Delicious passion built in Becca with each movement, until she could take it no more. She grabbed fistfuls of Steven’s shirt in her hands and rode the waves of orgasm washing over her body. Moments later, Steven stiffened as moans of ecstasy escaped his throat.
They lay still for a minute before twisting their clothing back into their correct positions. Steven buried the condom deep in the sand, before lying back down and pulling Becca into his arms. They stared up at the stars, and talked for a long time.
“You have goosebumps. You’re cold,” Steven said after a while, running his warm hand over her arm.
Becca pulled herself free of his hold and sat up. “Yes, and it’s late. I should get home.” They made their way slowly back across the beach. Under the streetlight, they stopped to face each other.
“Can I call you?” Steven asked awkwardly, and then they laughed.
“You’d better,” Becca chided with a smile.
She gave him her number, kissed him tenderly, then started down Ocean Drive toward the dress shop parking lot. She felt more awake, more alive than she had in a long time. She caught a glimpse of herself in her new dress reflected in the shop window. Yes, she liked this new dress. Very much.
(WC – 2001)
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