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Date Posted: 16:04:26 04/02/14 Wed
Author: Myxtress
Subject: HOMEWORK! for March 30, 2014

If I could turn back time, I might post when I say I would. But since I didn’t, how about we pretend that I said I’d combine the two (Homework and Check in) on the same day. On Wednesday! Good grief!

Okay, so I took a quick look at the library and added some items to my to-do list. But for now, if you have questions about the homework assignment since it’s been so long, the guidelines are in the Library under the homework tab. And here they are - your three choices for this assignment:

1. You/your character can go anywhere you want and experience everything that appeals to you/them. Even time and space have no limits. Where are you/they and what exactly are you/they doing?

2. You’re at a party and no one seems to notice the stranger except you. And it appears s/he can’t see anyone but you either; every time you glance his/her way s/he is staring right back. What’s the deal?

3. One word prompt to follow wherever it leads: Embrace

And that’s it. Please post your assignment as a new post.

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Replies:

[> This way to check in >>> -- Myxtress, 16:07:37 04/02/14 Wed

Okay, the purpose of this post is simply to check in and share with us what you’re up to, whether it be something that kept you from writing (see my post) or something about of a more personal nature so we can get to know each other again. Also consider sharing your writing goals (see my post) and follow up with how we did (oy!)

But my main vision of these posts is to provide an opportunity to share our writing! Have you ever wrote something, wanted to share it, but it didn’t fit in with the homework and you didn’t want/need a critique on it (yet?) So it sits alone, and unread, and that’s just so unfair! This is our opportunity to support each other and to encourage more of the same. To allow those voices to exist besides the place in our head. And yeah, I’m going to cheat a bit, but hey, I’ll share something with you in my post. Just to get back into practice.

Your turn!

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[> [> Here's what's new in my world >>> -- Myxtress, 16:32:41 04/02/14 Wed

Well, let’s see. Writing wise - I didn’t do much except for write a membership letter for a client. It's been crazy busy. We are hosting a Japanese exchange student for a couple weeks and she arrived on Monday the 24th, and my gosh, have they been kept hopping. Which means I’ve been doing extra driving and staying around in town while they do whatever is scheduled. I’ve been cooking like mad too, so she can experience typical Canadian meals. Tonight is ribs with homemade potato salad and probably a pasta salad, since she mentioned she wants to have different pasta. We already had lasagne. Oh yeah, and I have to get my hours in at work too. So not much downtime.

Also my computer has been dying a slow and painful death, which is the main excuse for my being late with this post, and it definitely has messed with my schedule, cause no matter how many hours I work, I can’t get anything done. Something that should take less than a minute took an hour and a half. And the other day, it wouldn’t even start. Had to keep pressing the power button and then keep my fingers crossed. Two hours later I apologized for the name calling. In any event, its not being shut down again. When it is working it keeps slowing down until it just stops responding, and then after a few hours rest works fine again. And forget about having more than one file open at a time as it gets confused and stops responding. Can we send out a huge thank you for online backup? Without the knowledge my info was retrievable, I’d have been in a real state, not just inconvenienced. My new one arrived yesterday afternoon, and I'm still trying to function around Windows 8.

Back to business. Since it’s the start of a brand new month, I’m going to openly proclaim my writing goal of 3500 words each week. I used to be pretty prolific, and I’m figuring that if I was to do this every day I’d get some momentum back. And I’m going to post the last piece of writing I did. This is from back in February, so it’s the most current writing I have.



Excerpt from working title ‘Mirrors’
by E.M. Sawatzky © 2014 All rights reserved.
Posted for critiquing purposes only and does not constitute publication.


“What the fuck, Fallon?” Such a sentiment needed repeating in the circumstance.

“Well, My Pet,” Fallon said, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and turning me around, “It would appear my mother is going to be staying with us for awhile.”

“There is no us. And the last time I checked, I lived alone.”

“Not anymore.”

“You don’t expect me to live with you, do you?”

“Not with me, no. The appropriate pronoun in this case would be us.”

“Us? As in who exactly?”

“Myself. Darian…”

“And?”

“Cadmus. Your mates.”

My brow arched in disbelief. “No way. I can’t live with three men!”

“Males. And Honey, that’s what mates do. They live together.”

“Fallon, I can’t.”

“Walk with me.” Fallon took my hand and led me away from the insanity.

The landscape was white nothingness until Fallon provided an ocean view and the sound of waves crashing against the rocks. Our feet were bare, the sand a caress between our toes. A gentle breeze tugged at my hair. The beach went on forever. We walked and we walked. We watched the sunrise. And then we walked some more. Mentally and physically exhausted, and still we walked.

“You know, My Pet, I’ve never strolled hand and hand with a female down the beach before.”

“Never?”

“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever held a female hand in any other way than to restrain her.”

“Fallon, I…” What could I say to that?

“Well, perhaps to guide her grip.” More moments passed in silence. “I much prefer this, being here with you.”

“Did you hate your existence?”

“How could I? I love females. I love human women. I would do anything for them.”

“But didn’t you ever wish for something more?”

“Until you, I didn’t know there could be anything besides the physical.” He chuckled.

“It’s not funny.”

“Sorry, male wishes.”

“Do you want to know what I wish? I wish I could be what you need.”

“You are.”

“Fallon, all I have ever done is hurt you. I’ve hurt everyone. You. Darian. And even Cadmus.”

“Cadmus is a complication, but he will survive.”

“I’m worried. About all of you.”

We stopped to watch the sunset. Fallon stood behind me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and his chin resting on the top of my head.

“What are we going to do, Fallon?”

“My Pet, there is no we.”

I turned in his arms so I was facing him. “Wha—”

“You know, the funny thing about mates is they always protect each other. I trust you to do what is best for me. Darian and Cadmus feel the same.” His lips brushed my forehead in a light kiss.

“But surely when we get back the four of us will talk, right?”

“Males don’t sit and talk together. Especially when a mate is involved.”

“But your moth—”

“My mother would make five. And that tells me it’s not going to be a social occasion.”

I laid my head against his chest and gloried in the feel of his arms tightening around me. “It is a trial, then.”

“Yeah.”

“For who?”

“Ah, My Pet, it is for you.” He lifted my chin with his curled index finger and whispered, “Look into my eyes. See the truth you know is there.”

***

I don’t know what woke me. The room was still dark, the clock on the night stand telling me it was the middle of the night. Yet, I was positive it was the sun filtering in through the window that woke me. Contentment rode me as I stretched. It was a glorious day. Christmas day. I couldn’t wait to have Mom unwrap her present.

Wait a minute. I switched on the lamp and glanced around the room. My bedroom with its dirty laundry on the floor, the dust on the furniture, and the mouldy dishes scattered about. It smelled of grime and neglect… and abandonment. But it wasn’t and couldn’t have been.

Could it?

Despair swirled about me like vines growing on a tree. A tree? Well of course a tree. It was Christmas. I didn’t put up a Christmas tree this year. And I hadn’t gone shopping at all.

Was it only yesterday when Mom stopped by? I groaned, and remembering her not so subtle lecture, pulled the blankets over my head as if to block out the memory with the loss of sight.

Loss of sight? Thoughts of Darian made my eyes burn. I had lost him. Really and truly lost him.

I brushed away the tears, and following the path, gripped my tangled hair in my fists so tight I could feel the pull on my scalp. A memory was just out of reach. A sound.

“What the fuck Heather. Get your ass out of bed and go to Mom’s and pretend to be a human being.”

A human being? You know you’re not human.

Where the hell did that thought come from? “Well it’s better than being called Female, isn’t it? And isn’t it just wonderful that I’m answering myself.”

I tossed the blanket to the side and shivered when my bare feet touched the ice-cold floor. Without thinking I glanced at the window, half expecting to see ice covering the glass and spread out on the wall. “Darian is gone, Heather. Get used to it.” A quick rummage through the mess on the floor didn’t reveal any slippers, so I gave up and shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen.

What a disaster. No wonder Mom left upset yesterday. There wasn’t even a clean cup in the cupboard to have coffee. Resigned to clean up duty, I opened the cupboard under the kitchen sink. It was a disaster with garbage spilling out over the top of the container, cleaning sponges covered in dirt and grime, and cobwebs taking over the corners. There was even dog hair left from Tony’s dog, fluffing around as I searched, somewhat more frantically as each second passed, for the dish liquid.

I had to crawl practically into the cupboard to reach it way in the back, tipped over and leaking onto the tile floor.

And she’s the mate to THREE of the most powerful males?

My head smashed up into the cupboard when I reared up in surprise. Rubbing the emerging goose-egg, I felt a trickling of unease. There was no one there. Yet I knew I heard someone. Speaking in my head. Like Darian. Only this voice was distinctly female and markedly snide. And I had no idea what she meant. What three men?

Conscious of my shabby appearance, I forced myself not to run my fingers through my hair. I knew it was dirty and knotted, and for some reason, I did not want to appear that I cared that I looked unkempt.

All the same, the desire for a shower had me scrambling to the bathroom. Seeing the towels on the floor, the last one I used tossed over the open door, had me almost in tears.

There was no doubt I was not measuring up to the scrutiny by the female lurking in my mind. So how the heck was I to shower? Oh come on. I was imagining things. There was no voice in my head, and definitely not one that would judge me. Unless...it was my subconscious.

Another memory was just out of reach, a voice telling me it was okay. But it wasn't. I was embarrassed over the state of my home and my appearance. Or maybe it was okay. Darian saw me as I saw myself. So all I had to do was change my perception.

Look into my eyes, see the truth you know is there.

Ashamed I had let Darian down, I figured I had nothing to lose. I retrieved the towels strewn haphazardly all over and plodded back to the kitchen, the mass of fusty towels sorted for the washing machine. A large load, hot water and some Tide detergent and I felt like I could accomplish anything.

I picked up the dish liquid where I had dropped it, and tilting it upside down, dribbled a few drops into the sink, then assessing the situation as dire, gave it a good squeeze and a great glob of blue coated the stainless steel. Dishes were selected and stacked and finally, hot water added to allow them to soak.

My feet stuck to the floor as I went back to the bathroom. I was having a shower, damn it, and if I didn’t have a clean towel left in the house, I didn’t give a shit because I had some creamy lotion I could rub in till I was dry. If my subconscious wanted to watch, let her watch.

It was a sad day indeed when my only clean clothes consisted of lingerie I had received from my lying, cheating, scumbag of a fiance, before Darian had shown me what I already had known for the truth. With a sigh, I slipped into the barely there panties, push up bra and wrap. I ran my hands over the silk covering my arms, certain I had forgotten something.

Why did I envision a room with rose petals on the floor? I shook my head to get rid of the image and smiled. I was a goddess about to do laundry. I went back to the kitchen, put the towels in the dryer and the first load of my clothes in the washer.

The water in the kitchen sink was lukewarm so I drained it, and then letting hot water run into the stacked bowls, started in on the massive job.

Thoughts of Darian kept me distracted and made the time fly by quickly. The only time I stopped was to change out the dry towels for the wet clothes and get another load of laundry going. I don’t recall folding the towels, but I needed them to be folded and put away, and so they were.

It took two hours to sanitize the kitchen to habitable levels. My feet ached from standing by the sink for so long. But I felt better than I had in a long time.

Now to enjoy my first taste of caffeine for the day in celebration. I grabbed my sparkling clean coffee pot, turned the tap on and glanced out the window.

The sun was rising; the light glinted off the glass like sunlight on a mirror. My eyes closed; the sound of running water reminded me of a waterfall. I scrunched my toes up as if to feel the sand between them.

Not sand.

Rocks.

I felt the phantom weight and warmth of a body behind me. A magical, masculine scent had me swooning with rapture. I dropped the coffee pot, the glass fragmenting into infinite pieces.

“Fallon! I forgot Fallon. How the hell could I forget Fallon?”

The world started spinning, and the next thing I knew I was standing in my underwear in front of the Senate of Peers.

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[> [> [> This story looks really interesting. Your descriptions are vivid, and your dialog flows very well, showing me things about characters I know nothing about. I look forward to seeing more of your work! I'm sorry this isn't more technical... I have 4 minutes before something needs stirring for dinner. *smiles* -- JustGina, 20:32:49 04/02/14 Wed

>Well, let’s see. Writing wise - I didn’t do much
>except for write a membership letter for a client.
>It's been crazy busy. We are hosting a Japanese
>exchange student for a couple weeks and she arrived on
>Monday the 24th, and my gosh, have they been kept
>hopping. Which means I’ve been doing extra driving
>and staying around in town while they do whatever is
>scheduled. I’ve been cooking like mad too, so she can
>experience typical Canadian meals. Tonight is ribs
>with homemade potato salad and probably a pasta salad,
>since she mentioned she wants to have different pasta.
> We already had lasagne. Oh yeah, and I have to get
>my hours in at work too. So not much downtime.
>
>Also my computer has been dying a slow and painful
>death, which is the main excuse for my being late with
>this post, and it definitely has messed with my
>schedule, cause no matter how many hours I work, I
>can’t get anything done. Something that should take
>less than a minute took an hour and a half. And the
>other day, it wouldn’t even start. Had to keep
>pressing the power button and then keep my fingers
>crossed. Two hours later I apologized for the name
>calling. In any event, its not being shut down again.
> When it is working it keeps slowing down until it
>just stops responding, and then after a few hours rest
>works fine again. And forget about having more than
>one file open at a time as it gets confused and stops
>responding. Can we send out a huge thank you for
>online backup? Without the knowledge my info was
>retrievable, I’d have been in a real state, not just
>inconvenienced. My new one arrived yesterday
>afternoon, and I'm still trying to function around
>Windows 8.
>
>Back to business. Since it’s the start of a brand new
>month, I’m going to openly proclaim my writing goal of
>3500 words each week. I used to be pretty prolific,
>and I’m figuring that if I was to do this every day
>I’d get some momentum back. And I’m going to post the
>last piece of writing I did. This is from back in
>February, so it’s the most current writing I have.
>
>
>
>Excerpt from working title ‘Mirrors’
>by E.M. Sawatzky © 2014 All rights reserved.
>Posted for critiquing purposes only and does not
>constitute publication.
>
>
>“What the fuck, Fallon?” Such a sentiment needed
>repeating in the circumstance.
>
>“Well, My Pet,” Fallon said, wrapping an arm around my
>shoulder and turning me around, “It would appear my
>mother is going to be staying with us for awhile.”
>
>“There is no us. And the last time I checked, I lived
>alone.”
>
>“Not anymore.”
>
>“You don’t expect me to live with you, do you?”
>
>“Not with me, no. The appropriate pronoun in this
>case would be us.”
>
>“Us? As in who exactly?”
>
>“Myself. Darian…”
>
>“And?”
>
>“Cadmus. Your mates.”
>
>My brow arched in disbelief. “No way. I can’t live
>with three men!”
>
>“Males. And Honey, that’s what mates do. They live
>together.”
>
>“Fallon, I can’t.”
>
>“Walk with me.” Fallon took my hand and led me away
>from the insanity.
>
>The landscape was white nothingness until Fallon
>provided an ocean view and the sound of waves crashing
>against the rocks. Our feet were bare, the sand a
>caress between our toes. A gentle breeze tugged at my
>hair. The beach went on forever. We walked and we
>walked. We watched the sunrise. And then we walked
>some more. Mentally and physically exhausted, and
>still we walked.
>
>“You know, My Pet, I’ve never strolled hand and hand
>with a female down the beach before.”
>
>“Never?”
>
>“Actually, I don’t think I’ve ever held a female hand
>in any other way than to restrain her.”
>
> “Fallon, I…” What could I say to that?
>
>“Well, perhaps to guide her grip.” More moments
>passed in silence. “I much prefer this, being here
>with you.”
>
>“Did you hate your existence?”
>
>“How could I? I love females. I love human women. I
>would do anything for them.”
>
>“But didn’t you ever wish for something more?”
>
>“Until you, I didn’t know there could be anything
>besides the physical.” He chuckled.
>
>“It’s not funny.”
>
>“Sorry, male wishes.”
>
>“Do you want to know what I wish? I wish I could be
>what you need.”
>
>“You are.”
>
>“Fallon, all I have ever done is hurt you. I’ve hurt
>everyone. You. Darian. And even Cadmus.”
>
>“Cadmus is a complication, but he will survive.”
>
>“I’m worried. About all of you.”
>
>We stopped to watch the sunset. Fallon stood behind
>me, his arms wrapped around my waist, and his chin
>resting on the top of my head.
>
>“What are we going to do, Fallon?”
>
>“My Pet, there is no we.”
>
>I turned in his arms so I was facing him. “Wha—”
>
>“You know, the funny thing about mates is they always
>protect each other. I trust you to do what is best
>for me. Darian and Cadmus feel the same.” His lips
>brushed my forehead in a light kiss.
>
>“But surely when we get back the four of us will talk,
>right?”
>
>“Males don’t sit and talk together. Especially when a
>mate is involved.”
>
>“But your moth—”
>
>“My mother would make five. And that tells me it’s
>not going to be a social occasion.”
>
>I laid my head against his chest and gloried in the
>feel of his arms tightening around me. “It is a
>trial, then.”
>
>“Yeah.”
>
>“For who?”
>
>“Ah, My Pet, it is for you.” He lifted my chin with
>his curled index finger and whispered, “Look into my
>eyes. See the truth you know is there.”
>
>***
>
>I don’t know what woke me. The room was still dark,
>the clock on the night stand telling me it was the
>middle of the night. Yet, I was positive it was the
>sun filtering in through the window that woke me.
>Contentment rode me as I stretched. It was a glorious
>day. Christmas day. I couldn’t wait to have Mom
>unwrap her present.
>
>Wait a minute. I switched on the lamp and glanced
>around the room. My bedroom with its dirty laundry on
>the floor, the dust on the furniture, and the mouldy
>dishes scattered about. It smelled of grime and
>neglect… and abandonment. But it wasn’t and couldn’t
>have been.
>
>Could it?
>
>Despair swirled about me like vines growing on a tree.
> A tree? Well of course a tree. It was Christmas. I
>didn’t put up a Christmas tree this year. And I
>hadn’t gone shopping at all.
>
>Was it only yesterday when Mom stopped by? I groaned,
>and remembering her not so subtle lecture, pulled the
>blankets over my head as if to block out the memory
>with the loss of sight.
>
>Loss of sight? Thoughts of Darian made my eyes burn.
>I had lost him. Really and truly lost him.
>
>I brushed away the tears, and following the path,
>gripped my tangled hair in my fists so tight I could
>feel the pull on my scalp. A memory was just out of
>reach. A sound.
>
>“What the fuck Heather. Get your ass out of bed and
>go to Mom’s and pretend to be a human being.”
>
>A human being? You know you’re not human.
>
>Where the hell did that thought come from? “Well it’s
>better than being called Female, isn’t it? And isn’t
>it just wonderful that I’m answering myself.”
>
>I tossed the blanket to the side and shivered when my
>bare feet touched the ice-cold floor. Without
>thinking I glanced at the window, half expecting to
>see ice covering the glass and spread out on the wall.
> “Darian is gone, Heather. Get used to it.” A quick
>rummage through the mess on the floor didn’t reveal
>any slippers, so I gave up and shuffled down the hall
>and into the kitchen.
>
>What a disaster. No wonder Mom left upset yesterday.
>There wasn’t even a clean cup in the cupboard to have
>coffee. Resigned to clean up duty, I opened the
>cupboard under the kitchen sink. It was a disaster
>with garbage spilling out over the top of the
>container, cleaning sponges covered in dirt and grime,
>and cobwebs taking over the corners. There was even
>dog hair left from Tony’s dog, fluffing around as I
>searched, somewhat more frantically as each second
>passed, for the dish liquid.
>
>I had to crawl practically into the cupboard to reach
>it way in the back, tipped over and leaking onto the
>tile floor.
>
>And she’s the mate to THREE of the most powerful
>males?

>
>My head smashed up into the cupboard when I reared up
>in surprise. Rubbing the emerging goose-egg, I felt a
>trickling of unease. There was no one there. Yet I
>knew I heard someone. Speaking in my head. Like
>Darian. Only this voice was distinctly female and
>markedly snide. And I had no idea what she meant.
>What three men?
>
>Conscious of my shabby appearance, I forced myself not
>to run my fingers through my hair. I knew it was
>dirty and knotted, and for some reason, I did not want
>to appear that I cared that I looked unkempt.
>
>All the same, the desire for a shower had me
>scrambling to the bathroom. Seeing the towels on the
>floor, the last one I used tossed over the open door,
>had me almost in tears.
>
>There was no doubt I was not measuring up to the
>scrutiny by the female lurking in my mind. So how the
>heck was I to shower? Oh come on. I was imagining
>things. There was no voice in my head, and definitely
>not one that would judge me. Unless...it was my
>subconscious.
>
>Another memory was just out of reach, a voice telling
>me it was okay. But it wasn't. I was embarrassed
>over the state of my home and my appearance. Or maybe
>it was okay. Darian saw me as I saw myself. So all I
>had to do was change my perception.
>
>Look into my eyes, see the truth you know is there.
>
>Ashamed I had let Darian down, I figured I had nothing
>to lose. I retrieved the towels strewn haphazardly
>all over and plodded back to the kitchen, the mass of
>fusty towels sorted for the washing machine. A large
>load, hot water and some Tide detergent and I felt
>like I could accomplish anything.
>
>I picked up the dish liquid where I had dropped it,
>and tilting it upside down, dribbled a few drops into
>the sink, then assessing the situation as dire, gave
>it a good squeeze and a great glob of blue coated the
>stainless steel. Dishes were selected and stacked and
>finally, hot water added to allow them to soak.
>
>My feet stuck to the floor as I went back to the
>bathroom. I was having a shower, damn it, and if I
>didn’t have a clean towel left in the house, I didn’t
>give a shit because I had some creamy lotion I could
>rub in till I was dry. If my subconscious wanted to
>watch, let her watch.
>
>It was a sad day indeed when my only clean clothes
>consisted of lingerie I had received from my lying,
>cheating, scumbag of a fiance, before Darian had shown
>me what I already had known for the truth. With a
>sigh, I slipped into the barely there panties, push
>up bra and wrap. I ran my hands over the silk
>covering my arms, certain I had forgotten something.
>
>Why did I envision a room with rose petals on the
>floor? I shook my head to get rid of the image and
>smiled. I was a goddess about to do laundry. I went
>back to the kitchen, put the towels in the dryer and
>the first load of my clothes in the washer.
>
>The water in the kitchen sink was lukewarm so I
>drained it, and then letting hot water run into the
>stacked bowls, started in on the massive job.
>
>Thoughts of Darian kept me distracted and made the
>time fly by quickly. The only time I stopped was to
>change out the dry towels for the wet clothes and get
>another load of laundry going. I don’t recall folding
>the towels, but I needed them to be folded and put
>away, and so they were.
>
>It took two hours to sanitize the kitchen to habitable
>levels. My feet ached from standing by the sink for
>so long. But I felt better than I had in a long time.
>
>Now to enjoy my first taste of caffeine for the day in
>celebration. I grabbed my sparkling clean coffee pot,
>turned the tap on and glanced out the window.
>
>The sun was rising; the light glinted off the glass
>like sunlight on a mirror. My eyes closed; the sound
>of running water reminded me of a waterfall. I
>scrunched my toes up as if to feel the sand between
>them.
>
>Not sand.
>
>Rocks.
>
>I felt the phantom weight and warmth of a body behind
>me. A magical, masculine scent had me swooning with
>rapture. I dropped the coffee pot, the glass
>fragmenting into infinite pieces.
>
>“Fallon! I forgot Fallon. How the hell could I
>forget Fallon?”
>
>The world started spinning, and the next thing I knew
>I was standing in my underwear in front of the Senate
>of Peers.

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[> [> [> [> Thanks! This is exactly what this check in is for - to encourage us, and you managed to do so in between reading and making dinner! Nothing technical required. *G* -- Myxtress, 10:52:07 04/03/14 Thu

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[> [> [> I'm starting to get your story. I was always intrieged by your work but since I had no chronilogical order had a hard time to really get it. But seems I'm starting now. I like here change between confidence and almost giving up on her tasks. -- Lady Morilka, 03:25:04 04/08/14 Tue

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[> [> [> [> Thanks for reading! And a big Woo Hoo! You know, I love when someone 'gets' it since it is hard to make sense of when postings are all over the place and not necessarily in any logical order. Thanks again! -- Myxtress, 11:16:12 04/11/14 Fri

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[> Homework! I'm not super excited about it... I just threw it together this evening and really haven't done much editing, but I WROTE something, damnit! There is something odd going on at this party... -- JustGina, 22:25:07 04/03/14 Thu

The ebb and flow of the crowd swirled around her as she stared at me. She didn’t seem to notice the buzz of conversation, the clink of the glassware, or the extremely noticeable, scantily clad underwear models, both male and female, who were the main draw for this cougar-fest masquerading as a charity event.

She was young. If I were to guess, she was in her late teens or early twenties, but I readily admit I’m no judge of such things. I know my share of horror stories about men my age who thought they were good judges of a beautiful young woman’s age and are now sporting broken noses, or worse- serving time because someone’s father taught them differently. I learned the minute I turned 18 and suddenly the majority of the girls in my senior class were off limits that it’s best not to guess.

Her stare was a bit unnerving, I admit. I like to think I’m pretty good in social situations. My job as a reporter demands it. When my editor sent me to this wine-drenched den of desperate housewives, my plan was to pop in, ask a few questions of the least inebriated of the the city’s “A” list, eat a few high dollar hors d'oeuvres as a nice break from Swansen’s finest, avoid the worst of the gropers who knew better than to touch the models but seemed to think that a reporter for the city’s leading events magazine is fair game, and be gone in time for kick-off at B-dubs with the other Hawks fans.

Her eyes, though. She was staring right AT me. No flirtatious glances from this one, and no sultry half-smile to go with her direct gaze. Her face was intent; as if she was afraid that taking her eyes off of me would cause me to disappear into an abyss and she would never find me again. There was a desperation in her expression that had nothing to do with the emotion of the bored, middle aged women surrounding me, looking for anything to add a spark to the lazy recreation-filled days of American affluence. She was in trouble. Deep trouble.

*click* “Oh man! Did you see that one? Did you SEE him?! I could scrub my laundry on those abs! Best. Assignment. EVER!” The photographer assigned to this event with me was gleefully clicking as fast as her finger would move. “Good thing I brought an extra SD card! The girls in reception are meeting me later for drinks and we are going to go over today’s shots. Oh wow, check him out!”

“You better get some shots of the ladies too, Beth, or Bruce is going to have you taking pictures of the Little Miss Toddler Sex Pot pageants for the rest of the year. Don’t forget to get some of the patrons either. I interviewed Mrs. Jones, Ms. DeWalt, and the Jackson twins. Get some shots for the story, and I won’t say anything about your little preview party tonight.” I smiled. I genuinely liked Beth, and I know she wasn’t going to be so distracted by polished, waxed, and sculpted man-flesh that she wouldn’t do her job. There wasn’t a more driven photographer than she was, and I was glad to have her along.

“Ugh. The Jacksons. I can’t even tell them apart, can you? One of them pinched my butt earlier, but I don’t know which one it was and they both deny it. It’s like we never left high school, the lecherous losers. You should try to look like you are having a good time. No one is going to tell you shit if you don’t wipe that scowl off your face. What the hell are you staring at, anyway?” She turned her camera in the direction of the girl, but didn’t stop to focus.

“You see that woman over there? The one in the coat? She’s been staring at me like I’m growing a third eye.” I said, tilting my head in her direction.

“Um… nope. Maybe she went to powder her nose. Hey! I’m getting a chocolate crepe before they are all gone! Don’t leave before I get a list of everyone you interviewed!” With that, Beth clicked her way towards the buffet and the dwindling pile of chocolate confection.

I looked back toward where I last saw the girl, and to my surprise, she hadn’t moved. How could Beth have missed her? I walked towards the stranger, weaving through the crowd, and she never broke eye contact. When I arrived, one of the models, a tall brunette in a filmy bedroom ensemble was standing right next to her. She smiled a bored smile and looked me up and down.

“Well,” she said, “this party may not be a dead loss after all. What’s a handsome young guy like you doing in this sea of botox and veneers?”

“I…uh…” I looked from the model to the young woman, who didn’t spare a glance at the scantily clad godess standing a hair’s breadth away from her. They were standing so close, but neither seemed aware of the other’s existence.

“Ohhhhkayyyy…” The brunette looked annoyed. “That answers that question. The only eligible guy here and he’s simple in the head. 5 o’clock can’t come too soon.” She glided off to the opposite end of the room from the Jackson brothers.

We stood and looked at each other while the party swirled around us. She _was_ young. Gold flecked brown eyes flicked over my face, memorizing my features. Her brown curls swept her forehead and brushed the shoulders of a worn leather coat. Full lips pressed together, and she still didn’t speak.

I wanted to say a thousand things, ask a hundred questions. She didn’t belong here, that was obvious. I opened my mouth to speak, my reporter’s spidey sense on full alert, ready to grill her story out of her.

“Hi.” I said. Hi. That was it. And I BARELY got that out. Smooth, real smooth.

“It’s you.” Her voice was soft, with a slight tremble, but strong nonetheless. “Thank God I found you. I almost… but it’s okay, I’m here now. I just hope it’s not too late.”

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[> [> OMG! It's a homework assignment! And I'm so happy to see that you wrote something, damnit! *G* >>> -- Myxtress, 16:36:06 04/06/14 Sun

It feels so good to see activity on this board. Thank you for posting!

And sharing with us, and especially me so I can read it.

You might not be super excited about it but I am. You had me by the end of the second sentence. And then you left me hanging. I have a love/hate relationship with those cause I just want to know what the deal here is, ya know? But I guess I'll settle with telling you I loved your voice in this one. I liked how you showed how hot the reporter was without telling me he was hot. Beth's personality was clear and...yup I'm hooked.

Okay. This is the start of many such posts. Can't wait to read the next one.

Hugs

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[> [> Hi, nice to read something new again here. I personally like your piece a lot, you got me guessing from the start and didn't solve the mystery. I am hooked. -- Lady Morilka, 03:16:43 04/08/14 Tue

But just a suggestion, I would like to have a bit more "back and forth", can't name it better, but I mean that with the things distracting him (Beth i.e.) I would love to have him glance back in between and make some of the observations that you wrote prior or after. Like she is interrupting him even more. Do you get what I mean? Not sure I could put it in proper words.
I am waiting for that story to evolve ;)

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[> [> Thank you both for your comments! I do see what you mean about fleshing it out a bit more I didn't have much time to work on it, so maybe that is why I wasn't super happy with it. :-) -- JustGina, 20:31:54 04/14/14 Mon

>The ebb and flow of the crowd swirled around her as
>she stared at me. She didn’t seem to notice the buzz
>of conversation, the clink of the glassware, or the
>extremely noticeable, scantily clad underwear
>models, both male and female, who were the main draw
>for this cougar-fest masquerading as a charity event.
>
>She was young. If I were to guess, she was in her late
>teens or early twenties, but I readily admit I’m no
>judge of such things. I know my share of horror
>stories about men my age who thought they were
>good judges of a beautiful young woman’s age and are
>now sporting broken noses, or worse- serving time
>because someone’s father taught them differently. I
>learned the minute I turned 18 and suddenly the
>majority of the girls in my senior class were off
>limits that it’s best not to guess.
>
>Her stare was a bit unnerving, I admit. I like to
>think I’m pretty good in social situations. My job as
>a reporter demands it. When my editor sent me to this
>wine-drenched den of desperate housewives, my plan was
> to pop in, ask a few questions of the least
>inebriated of the the city’s “A” list, eat a few high
>dollar hors d'oeuvres as a nice break from Swansen’s
>finest, avoid the worst of the gropers who knew better
>than to touch the models but seemed to think that a
>reporter for the city’s leading events magazine is
>fair game, and be gone in time for kick-off at B-dubs
>with the other Hawks fans.
>
>Her eyes, though. She was staring right AT me. No
>flirtatious glances from this one, and no sultry
>half-smile to go with her direct gaze. Her face was
>intent; as if she was afraid that taking her eyes off
>of me would cause me to disappear into an abyss and
>she would never find me again. There was a desperation
>in her expression that had nothing to do with the
>emotion of the bored, middle aged women surrounding
>me, looking for anything to add a spark to the lazy
>recreation-filled days of American affluence. She was
>in trouble. Deep trouble.
>
>*click* “Oh man! Did you see that one? Did you SEE
>him?! I could scrub my laundry on those abs! Best.
>Assignment. EVER!” The photographer assigned to this
>event with me was gleefully clicking as fast as her
>finger would move. “Good thing I brought an extra SD
>card! The girls in reception are meeting me later for
>drinks and we are going to go over today’s shots. Oh
>wow, check him out!”
>
>“You better get some shots of the ladies too, Beth, or
>Bruce is going to have you taking pictures of the
>Little Miss Toddler Sex Pot pageants for the rest of
>the year. Don’t forget to get some of the patrons
>either. I interviewed Mrs. Jones, Ms. DeWalt, and the
>Jackson twins. Get some shots for the story, and I
>won’t say anything about your little preview party
>tonight.” I smiled. I genuinely liked Beth, and I know
>she wasn’t going to be so distracted by polished,
>waxed, and sculpted man-flesh that she wouldn’t do her
>job. There wasn’t a more driven photographer than she
>was, and I was glad to have her along.
>
>“Ugh. The Jacksons. I can’t even tell them apart, can
>you? One of them pinched my butt earlier, but I don’t
>know which one it was and they both deny it. It’s like
>we never left high school, the lecherous losers. You
>should try to look like you are having a good time. No
>one is going to tell you shit if you don’t wipe that
>scowl off your face. What the hell are you staring at,
>anyway?” She turned her camera in the direction of the
>girl, but didn’t stop to focus.
>
>“You see that woman over there? The one in the coat?
>She’s been staring at me like I’m growing a third
>eye.” I said, tilting my head in her direction.
>
>“Um… nope. Maybe she went to powder her nose. Hey! I’m
>getting a chocolate crepe before they are all gone!
>Don’t leave before I get a list of everyone you
>interviewed!” With that, Beth clicked her way towards
>the buffet and the dwindling pile of chocolate
>confection.
>
>I looked back toward where I last saw the girl, and to
>my surprise, she hadn’t moved. How could Beth have
>missed her? I walked towards the stranger, weaving
>through the crowd, and she never broke eye contact.
>When I arrived, one of the models, a tall brunette in
>a filmy bedroom ensemble was standing right next to
>her. She smiled a bored smile and looked me up and
>down.
>
>“Well,” she said, “this party may not be a dead loss
>after all. What’s a handsome young guy like you doing
>in this sea of botox and veneers?”
>
>“I…uh…” I looked from the model to the young woman,
>who didn’t spare a glance at the scantily clad godess
>standing a hair’s breadth away from her. They were
>standing so close, but neither seemed aware of the
>other’s existence.
>
>“Ohhhhkayyyy…” The brunette looked annoyed. “That
>answers that question. The only eligible guy here and
>he’s simple in the head. 5 o’clock can’t come too
>soon.” She glided off to the opposite end of the room
>from the Jackson brothers.
>
>We stood and looked at each other while the party
>swirled around us. She _was_ young. Gold flecked brown
>eyes flicked over my face, memorizing my features. Her
>brown curls swept her forehead and brushed the
>shoulders of a worn leather coat. Full lips pressed
>together, and she still didn’t speak.
>
>I wanted to say a thousand things, ask a hundred
>questions. She didn’t belong here, that was obvious. I
>opened my mouth to speak, my reporter’s spidey sense
>on full alert, ready to grill her story out of her.
>
>“Hi.” I said. Hi. That was it. And I BARELY got that
>out. Smooth, real smooth.
>
>“It’s you.” Her voice was soft, with a slight tremble,
>but strong nonetheless. “Thank God I found you. I
>almost… but it’s okay, I’m here now. I just hope it’s
>not too late.”

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