Tag: short story

tanning parties do not exist

A short story for mature readers.

“A crusty, middle-aged loser is afforded a second chance at love, with tragi-comic (and self-actualized) consequences.”

Which window was hers’? The left or the right?
He threw the rock in the air & caught it: once, then twice, then over again; thinking it over, the thud against his hand cracking through the silent night air. He had seen this done a million times in the movies before, and he didn’t recall one single time that it didn’t work. He was going to give it a shot.
Any second now.
Thud, thud, thud…
Em would love it, he was sure. The gesture. Classically-romantic. Chivalrous. Well, not really. There was no way to climb up to her window except if he was Spider-Man; or if he lowered himself down from the roof, which he could see himself getting to via a Mouse Trap-esque Rube Goldberg setup that nature & suburbia had blended together over generations, like that tree in the neighbor’s front lawn with the long-reaching branch, that he could use to get to the neighbor’s roof, and then a hop over. He didn’t care about the neighbor so much. He was a goof.
No, forget it. Forget it! It was ridiculous! He expected himself to what, clip the carabiner that held his water bottle to his bicycle out-front to the laundry line? Tyrolene-traverse himself across, like he was James Bond? That would be pretty cool. But what was more likely to happen was him falling pathetically from the tree – after only getting maybe halfway up, barely passed the stump – and break something. His ankle, perhaps. But that was all hypothetical. Right now, he was trying to get laid, in the most dignified way possible.
Left or right window?
Crap… he dropped the rock. It tumbled a few times away from him in the grass before coming to a halt. Suddenly, things didn’t seem so quiet anymore. He was wasting time… pick one! Before somebody calls the cops. Some nosy, restless goof up at two AM on a Saturday morning! He picked the rock up and noticed it was damp now from the dew on the knoll. He looked back up at the windows, and threw the rock at the left one.
Left. He was sure that was the one. Too late now, as it tapped violently against the dormer, ricocheting off the glass & coming back at him on the ground by his feet. Why not pick it up and try again? OK, he will. He picked the same rock up and threw it back against the same window.
It sailed through the glass making a perfect hole, like a bullet. And as a gunshot would, the sound rang long & far, and it was a matter of moments before every dog in a two-block radius was getting in on the clamor. Crap! That wasn’t supposed to happen! That never happened in the movies!
What should he do? Should he stay? Should he go? Like that song… get the damn song out of your head right now, man! This is serious stuff! A light turned on through the left window – what was left of it – as a man’s silhouette approached & lifted the busted shutter. “Are you fucking nuts? Who’s out there? There’s no use hiding: I can see you from behind the shed!”
“…Hi Derrick!”
“How do you know my name? Do I have to come down there and kick your ass?”
“It’s George!”
“George? As in, Emma’s George?”
“Yes! I’m sorry I broke your window!”
“She’s not even here tonight, dude! You’re just lucky our parents are out too! What the fuck are you doing?”
“…I was trying to be romantic.”
“What?”
“I was trying to be romantic!”
“Did you think the rock was just going to bounce off like it was ‘Romeo & Juliet’? Did you even see the size of this rock?”
“I was sure it was a small one!”
“A small one? Look!” Derrick bent down and picked the rock up, holding it high up: “This thing is fucking enormous!”
“Well, it didn’t seem that big a second ago!”
“It’s huge!”
“I’ve been out here a while, OK?”
“What the Hell is going on out here?” It was the next-door goof patrol, sticking almost his entire upper body out his upstairs bedroom window, “Hey Clear-mont, do I need to be calling the cops or what?”
“No, it’s good Bob, thanks! I’m taking care of it.”
“Well take care of it faster, cause some of us are trying to sleep!”
“George, go away. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Derrick closed the shutter and the impact against the sill broke some more glass from the frame. You could hear the shards rolling down the eave, with some making it to the edge, pitter-pattering on the concrete below like rainfall. George was pretty happy with how the whole experience went, really. It could have been way worse, like, if he didn’t get along with Em’s brother. Or if Em really was home, and he got the window right after all, but it broke her glass and scared her. And then he would be explaining to her why he thought it was romantic to break her bedroom window at two o’clock in the morning.
He walked around the front of the house only to find that his bike was missing. Where did it go? Wasn’t this where he left it? How long had he been standing there?

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the scientific wonder and a sober son

A short story for mature readers.

“A blossoming but otherwise-normal young woman learns some odd lessons – and some not-so-much – about life & love during her Senior year.”

I’ve got a junkie heart in a cage of bone
I’m a scientific wonder, a sober son
I was born blue-blooded
So I’ve never made a cent on my own
…Will you remember me, after I’m gone?

– “Will You Remember Me” by Jann Arden

*

A Prologue

Once upon a time, in a place not unlike that of your own adolescence, there lived a girl. There was nothing particular about this girl that stood out on first glance: just a plain high school Senior. Nothing special, nothing significant. She would blend in to a class of her peers like a chameleon, sharing the faces and features of those in her own circumstance. Her grades were impeccable. She came from a middle-income upbringing, and fate had chosen her to live the quaint, “normal” life of a juvenile from the suburbs.
Having said that, we open the curtain to our story in a frank moment of passion between our heroine and a boy, in his bedroom. She did it because she wanted to. She did it, because no one was watching her. Only him. And there was no judgment in his eyes: only pleasure. Pleasure that she was giving him. For underneath her perennial exterior beat a fiery heart, felicitous for stoking. It made her feel confident & powerful. Older. And as she carried on and his undulations became vulgarer & his complexion reddened, she managed to tune him out – in the same way an extra’s face in one’s dream is distorted – and became solely & absolutely concentrated on the task at hand, no pun intended. Because this was what this was all for, wasn’t it? At the end of it all, wasn’t this really just for him? And plus, she couldn’t stand this old music he had playing in the background, and the sooner she was finished the better. So depressing! What did he say it was? The Smiths? Who they Hell were THEY?
“Oh fuck that’s so good baby, give me more of it like that, yeah… shit…

She had no desire to become pregnant. There was a girl in her grade who everyone watched like a celebrity trial: from those first public cries of fear in the cafeteria, to when her baby bump began to show, to when she returned after a month’s absence only to push her pram around the school’s half-empty corridors to special classes. Our heroine didn’t want to be like that, with strangers scrutinizing her and making assumptions. But that girl was so plain about all of it, like there wasn’t anything else to talk about. No one knew who her baby’s daddy was: that was the only real secret she kept. No, our heroine attracted attention in a different, more obvious way. Because despite being ordinary in an unfussy, homespun way, she was still a girl in the inescapable midst of becoming a woman. In that way, she felt like a part of something: like she always had a community behind her, of girls all going through the same thing. That empathy. She knew she was privileged to be White & attractive so she never felt a need to be more overt than that to anyone.
The boy was close now. His face contorted in that way she saw the boys in the movies do, as he whipped his hands around the back of her head & held it down.
When he was done, she stood up, spat the cum out of her mouth and on to his face, and left. Pig! She was already dressed, and by the time he composed himself she was gone & he was too blind to chase after her. He just rolled around in pain & the fast-crystallizing ooze. The boy’s name, haplessly, was Chance.

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little jimmy and the naiad

A short erotic story for mature readers.

“A naïve child and his damaged family are infiltrated by a lecherous water nymph.”

It was just after midnight, and Jimmy’s parents were fighting again. He couldn’t lay in bed one more minute and listen to them argue about things he didn’t – or couldn’t – understand. So he slipped out of his room and passed their bedroom door, down the stairs to the front door, put on his coat & boots and left.
He ran to the other side of the street – making sure to look both ways – and skidded down the slippery, grassy knoll till he found his footing on the gravel trail that boarded the lakeside. During the summer months, the oceanfront town they lived in would keep the man-made lake stocked with fish, fed-in through an underground reservoir. But it was the middle of winter and the lake was as still as the undisturbed snow that lay at the boy’s feet. He loved the water: being close to it, in it… everything. He was an avid swimmer, when his parents could remember to take him to his lessons. But in the meantime he was contented with being so close to the park.
It was cold just standing still, so Jimmy rocked back-and-forth in his boots; the soles making a satisfying squish against the wet snow. Up and down, rhythmically, without even realizing he was doing it. A ripple. He had to blink a few times to make sure he was seeing what he thought he was, far out in the water: like a fish swimming close to the surface. A really big fish! And it was coming straight towards him, clear as night under the bright November moon. It scared Jimmy, and he began to back away, until a voice stopped him dead in his tracks. A beautiful, lilting voice that came from nowhere in particular but filled him completely. Wait…
Who said that?
Wait… The ripple was now at the shoreline, and what started as a tall, dark shadow rising from the shallow wavelet took on human features under the twilight. Wonderful features. She looked like his mother but more benign, with softer features and longer hair; sort of how she looked in those old photo books that he looked through occasionally. The thought of her warmed him, and intensified the happening.
What are you?
You can call me Anemone. She walked right up to him; not much taller than him when she stood right beside him, making Jimmy even more at-ease than he was already. Never could anyone have been more relaxed. She placed her wet hand on Jimmy’s face and stroked his cheek gently. You are an exquisite creature.
What does exquisite mean?
It means, that you are heavenly. I couldn’t have waited any longer for someone better. She leaned down and kissed him very gently on the lips, and then again. It wasn’t until she had kneeled over that Jimmy had noticed her breasts. He had never seen a naked woman before, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, he was completely at-ease with it, which confused him. It was as confusing as what was happening in his pants. She took his hand. Come with me.
Where are we going?
I want to show you something. She started walking into the water. Jimmy hesitated.
Won’t I drown?
I won’t let anything happen to you, Jimmy. She gently put her hand back on his face. Trust me. He did, fully.

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