Sassy Sunday Story Starter

Sassy Brit offers her own version of a flash fiction challenge. This week's prompt is brought to us by Selena Blake, author of Stranded With A Cajun Werewolf. Since I'm gearing up for NaNoWriMo, I thought I'd give it a try, though what I came up with isn't my usual paranormal style. But, I figure, I need to stretch my writing muscles once in a while anyway.

Lexi Armstrong, Bounty Hunter

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 1000

She had him in her sights. Billy Ray Roberds was one slippery-son-of-a-gun but nothing that Lexi Armstrong, bounty hunter extraordinaire, couldn't handle. Lungs burning she sprinted around the corner and drew her weapon. 

"Freeze Billy Ray!"The dark haired man stopped and then slowly lifted his hands. The boys back at the office were going to be doing her laundry for a month thanks to their latest bet. Lexi always won. Always. "Up against the wall." There was a sudden tremor somewhere below her belly button as six feet of lean male did her bidding. But just as she was about to put her hands on him for a pat down, he turned and pegged her with the brilliant blue gaze she'd never forgotten."Dillon?" 

Stunted, Lexi gazed back into the eyes she hoped never to see again. She cursed, gun still pointed at his chest. She kicked the dirt, grimaced. “I said up against the wall.”

“Come on Lexi, it's me.” He held out his empty hands. “You know a gun isn't my style.”

“Forget what you think I know. Forget you ever knew me in a previous life. Forget everything!” But as she stared back into his brilliant blaze, that same tugging sensation, the one she tried to ignore, came again. “Jesus, just grab the cement.”

He shrugged his massive shoulders, and turned around, hands stretched wide, and leaned. She stood watching him, remembering those hands and the magic they possessed. The way he touched her body.... Damn it, she could hear the rank laughter, Alexis always gets her man.

She stepped between his legs, briskly running her hands up and down his muscular arms, biceps bulging, across his broad shoulders, over his tightening chest, hardened abs, then lower to his belt, skimming her hands front to back.

“Christ, Lexi, careful where you touch. Damn!” He swore, tensing as her hands moved lower, over his bulging zipper, down the inside of his well-formed thighs. Her hands moved back up to his ass, before he relaxed again. She remembered his response all too well.

“Alright, I guess you're clean. Turn around, hands in front please, where I can see them.” He did as she asked, where she quickly and expertly zipped the band around his wrists.

“Lexi, will you look at me? Do you really think you need the cuffs?”

She didn't want to meet his gaze, that's when she got into trouble. “It's procedure, and you know, I'm a safety kind of gal.” She stared steadily at his chest. “Lets go, you aren't my only pick up today.” She nudged him with her foot, urging him forward.

He planted his feet wide, “I'm not moving until you tell me what happened. Where'd you go?” They had two fantastic weeks in San Juan, and then one morning, he got up and she was gone.

“Lets just say I came to my senses.” She slung her blonde hair over a shoulder. Finally, she raised her hard emerald gaze to his, making his catch his breath, she smiled. His face was darkly tanned, crinkles around his eyes from laughing, blue-black hair waved almost to his collar, a little longer than she remembered. But, it was the brilliance of his eyes that stopped her pounding heart. Her knees trembled, she squirmed, trying to relieve the tingling sensation.

“Lets go.” She pushed him, and he started walking toward the midnight blue Porsche on the corner.

“This your car?” He whistled. “Sweet!”

She opened the door, “Just shut up and get in.” With little effort, he slid into the seat, for a big man, he moved with grace and ease.

After she sat and buckled them in, he twisted to stare as she put the car into gear, pulling away from the curb. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“That Saturday, I decided to take a swim, order breakfast on my way back. A pretty pregnant woman was asking for Dillion Roberts's room.” She smiled up at him, watched his face pale.

“Shit, Veronica...”

“Yeah, Veronica.”

“My sister, she'd left her husband.” He shook his head.

She reddened. “I don't know what to believe.” She sighed, and drove in silence for about thirty minutes before she pulled into a garden neighborhood, stopping at a small brick house.

“Where are we? This can't be your office.”

“It's not.” Lexi whipped out a blade, cut the zip strip. “Come on in.” She stepped from the car, a few seconds later, he followed. They entered her house, he looked around. “Now, why don't you started at the beginning, tell me what's going on.”

For the first time, he looked uncomfortable. “I worked for this outfit, found money missing from the books. When I took it to my boss, he said he'd take care of it. Next thing I knew, the cops were at my door. Asked where I was the night before. Showed me pictures of my boss sliced and diced.”

“Shit, what's you're real name, is it Billy Ray?”

“No, I'm a reporter, working undercover, my name's Dillion Roberts, just like a told you in San Juan.”

“Okay.... Dillion...” She walked over to him, shoved him hard into the sofa. “Lets lay some ground rules.” She strolled over to the marble counter, poured two fingers of Jack, brought him one glass, downing her own. “Rule number one, I make all the rules. Rule number two, there are no other rules. Do you understand?”

“I think so, are you turning me in?”

“Not yet.”

“Why'd you bring me here?”

“Giving you the benefit of a doubt.” She slid onto his lap, her fingers swept over his chest. “Unfinished business, curiosity.”

He lifted his hands to cover hers. “Do you know what you're doing?”

“Not really.” She'd never hear the end of it, it would cost her greatly, but more was going on than she'd been told. “You're the first skip I haven't brought back.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, oh....” She brushed her full lips across his, sighing a breath, her tongue sweeping their seam, until they opened, and she tasted him. Her legs twined themselves around his waist, his hardness against her softening body.

He groaned, wrapping his hands across her ass, lifting them together. “Bedroom?”

“Second door.” The tip of her tongue licked his lips.

He sighed, resting his forehead against hers, “Jesus.” And he kissed her back, hard.

This wasn't how the day was supposed to end, but what the hell, you only live once.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... Several Weeks Late.....

Sassy Brit @Alternative Reads offers a Sunday Story Starter. This one is several weeks late!

Though this story starter is several weeks old, I started it, I never finished it. But, it keep calling me, begging to be completed. Anyway, here's my offering to her prompt, The Last Time....

The Last Time

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 1000

“This is the last time,” I thought, my throat tight. But I knew I was lying to myself.

This wouldn't be the last time, I was addicted. It would never be enough. Not even when I was dead. So, I hid from the truth, but it grew harder with each breath.

My body burned with need, possessed with a fever, from which there wasn't any cure.

I rubbed my arms, chasing away the gooseflesh, and I shivered. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was the first signs of withdrawal, but to go through withdrawal, you first had give up what you knew was bad. I wasn't there yet, I never would be. I wanted to be done with this, but I couldn't. Gods, why is this happening to me? Was I so different from his other conquests?

My fevered eyes looked back into his. “Please,” I trembled, “I can't stop now, I don't want to.” I pushed back into the pillows, pulling him toward me, sighing as he touched me. He made it my decision.

His eyes shimmered, and he smiled showing his neat white teeth. Unnaturally straight, unnaturally white, and amazingly sharp. He leaned down, capturing my lips with his. Quickly, he sank down onto the bed, gathering my body. He longed for me as much as I longed for life. Only for him, would I give it up. What you may ask? Life I would reply.

My head swam, and I pushed away, far enough to catch my breath. Then, I dove back in for more. His kisses were like honey on my tongue, and I gulped to catch every drop. His tongue tickled the seam of my lips, demanding entrance, and I gladly obliged, eager to partake, to drink my fill. Our tongues began the mad dance, twining together as a moan escaped my raw throat.

His hands threaded through my hair, snapping my head back, and at the same time, his lips left mine, sliding down to linger on my pulse point. “Gods, you taste so good.” He inhaled sharply, memorizing my scent. “Mine.” His bristled chin rasped against tender flesh, abrading and marking me. I was his. There was no denying it, no going back. I gloried in my damnation.

His lips found their way along the length of my neck, then lower and deeper, sipping sweetly from hardening rosettes, ruby red from his ministrations. I groaned in pleasure. “Please more, don't stop.” I twisted as I whispered. “Not ever.”

Before his fangs pierced my flesh for the last time, for it would be for the last time, survival was forgone, I brought his lips back to mine, demanding his kisses.

“Tell me again,” I shook with need, “tell me how we'll be together. You'll love me forever. Tell me again.” I demanded.

His eyes swam into focus, I was slowly slipping away. But his voice came to me from the gathering fog. “You will be mine forever, as I take, so shall I give.” He nuzzled my neck, inhaling deeply, and I gave him greater access, almost forgetting myself.

He smiled down at me, gazing into my eyes with his midnight ones, and I saw the lie. Almost too late, I broke away, pushing from the comfort of his bed. One would never be enough, I would never be enough. From somewhere else, lonely cords greeted my ears, “someone to watch o-ver me...”

Stumbling from the bed, I dragged my blouse back around my shoulders, making my way from his embrace. Fumbling with stubborn buttons, my fingers were too cold to work. Finally, I gave up and glanced down, three haphazardly closed buttons held the fragile fabric to my thin body. When I arrived in the kitchen, I held my face beneath the facet, greedily sucking in the cold liquid, splashing my face, trying to recovery my senses.

As I stood in the kitchen, staring out into the black night, I felt him presence behind me. I'd had my chance to leave, and I'd discarded it. Escaping his arms a second time would be impossible.

He growled into my ear, “Where are you going? Come back to bed, I'll give you what you need.”

His reflection glowed in the window, and I knew I was lost. He picked up my hand and brought it his lips. Then, flipping it over, he licked the inside of my wrist. I whimpered, knees melting. My pulse pounded harder. His other arm curled around my waist, guiding me back the way I'd come, my willpower evaporated.

He didn't bother with the buttons as the fabric split beneath his demanding fingers. He pushed me back into the pillows, and said the lies my mind needed to hear. “I'll love you for as long as time will allow. Give to me, my love, and we'll be together. There will be no other.” It was the final lie, even as my brian recognized it, my heart gave in as it thudded.

With my sighed consent, victory shown in his greedy eyes. His lips once again began their exploration, seeking the soft flesh where my pulse throbbed the hardest. Almost gently, he made love to my body, bringing me to the edge of ecstasy, then pushing me over, crashing against pleasure's shore. He thrust one last time as he pierced the tenderest of places. I felt myself pouring into him, as he hungrily groaned out his delight. My eyes lost their focus, and before I knew it, I was gone.

Now, we truly are together, forever. Cursed, some would say, to a lonely existence. But, we dance and make love. We laugh as we hunt, feast as we need. I've become the monster I was always afraid of. When he slips away, I try not to notice. He's never gone for long.

Somedays, I miss the sunshine and rainbows. But, not for long, and it doesn't really matter. The nights are mine. And they are wondrous.



So, there you have it. Have a great Labor Day weekend!

Caio, my lovelies!!

Monday Morning Flash Fiction Challenge, Week 47, The Friday Post (on Monday) + Sassy's Sunday Story Starter (again on Monday)

I know it's the Fourth of July, but my leg has been giving me fits....since spending three freaking hours on it at the parade!! So instead of running around, I slept a little, took my meds like a good girl, and my leg is once again on speaking terms with me. Terse terms, not quite friends yet, but livable. But, this evening as I watched the fireworks display from my living room, as much of it as I could see anyway.... I finished my flash fiction and Sassy's challenge as well. Hope you enjoy them!

First, Friday flash fiction response:

Vampire Mistress

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 830

Marie Devore longed for the days of ease and comfort, before all the political machinations, before vampires had come to the forefront of human knowledge. The days of old when she could sit in the salon, gazing over the day receipts.

She'd never really worried about humans then, cattle to the vampire race. A convenience of necessity.

Now, the world was a different place. Humans were becoming a rare commodity. Her customers more desperate. Her chattel still remained, and she was a good mistress to her herd. Her humans wanted for little and she allowed them all the freedoms she could provide, except for the one little necessity, their blood for consumption. She hoped for it to be given freely, after all, she did provide a luxurious lifestyle. But, she was more cautious than she'd been in the past, what with the uprising. Did they not realize, in the wild, their life expectancy was most certainly void? The wilds were where those without the means for legitimate blood services hunted freely. When prey was found, it was used until it was drained completely. To become dust in the wind. The vampire race, once strong and powerful, would die without the required commodity, yet they attempted to hunt until near extinction. Fools.

As she sat, she let the papers drifted to the floor, and tipped her head into her hands, something had to be done.

“Celeste!” She called out to her assistant. “I need to locate a hunter.”

“One moment mademoiselle.” She could hear her thumbing through files, looking for the one who might save their race, then her quick steps. “Monsieur Hawks was recently released. If you'd like I can send out an emissary to see if he is amiable.”

“Yes, the situation grows more intense. I fear we'll need his services.”

“Yes ma'am, I'll send out Rachel right away.”

Marie gnawed on her bottom lip, worry in her eyes.

***

Hawks was tired of the vampires, tired of the politics that landed him in his recent caged stint. If he saw another vamp in his long life, it would be too soon. They were nothing but trouble.

The hunter peeled off the clothing which stank of entrapment, held against his will. What he needed was a hot shower to remove the stink that seemed to soak into his very flesh. He headed for arboretum where the naturally falling water would ease the tension from his muscles.

***

Rachel approached the hunter's home with trepidation, Hawks was dangerous. His name fit it's predator status. But, when she arrived, it was to find an open entrance. No wards, no permission to enter required, it sent her hackles into overdrive.

She eased through the door, heard the spray of water, and headed in the direction of the sound.

Hawks picked up the heartbeat of the intruder long before they could make their way to rear of his home where he stood with little between him and the invader. He lifted his nose into the air and sniffed. Vampire. Damn. His only option, the sawed off he carried in his duster. He reached around, feeling for the weapon as Rachel entered the room.

“Mr. Hawks, I come with a proposal from Ms. Devore,” she called into the misting sprays that fell in the live forest. She looked around, it wasn't often beauty was found in this world, and never before had she seen a contained forest. Then she heard the undeniable snick of the trigger, and halted her explorations.

“I've come on behalf of Ms. Devore. She desires your services.”

“I've already had the pleasure of working for the vampire nation. Thanks, but no thanks.”

“Monsieur, I can assure your safety and return if you desire it.”

He watched his prey from inside the leafy interior, watched her as her fingers brushed along the flower petals, as her eyes sought his. He stepped away from the spray, dripping wet and naked.

“Mademoiselle, how do you propose to keep such a promise?”

“With my very life.”

“And what a waste it would be to let your life slip through my fingers. Hello, Rachel. Longtime.”

She cocked her him and turned to the sound of his voice. “Hi Michel. It has been a longtime.” She smiled as she gazed upon his dripping body. With only the sawed off at his side. “Sorry to interrupt your shower.” Her eyes drifted over his familiar body as she stepped forward, until their bodies were mere inches apart. She felt the steam from his shower as it lingered over her skin. Her body tightening in places better left unsaid.

With his free hand, he reached for her, dragging his lips across hers, before pushing her away, his body hardening, wanting. Damn, he couldn't help himself, and she would be his downfall.


Okay, I know I'm in a vampire funk lately....I really do enjoy them! My favorite preternatural creature!!


Now...Sassy's Sunday Story Starter suggested by Cheryl Rainfield:

The Fallen One

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 725

I stumbled back, my legs trembling. I knew I shouldn't have opened the door.

My hands shook, my voice quavered, “I...I didn't know. I swear, I didn't know.”

My back slammed against the rough concrete wall, hands clutched my throat. I clawed at the decaying fingers, nothing but bones covered in rotting flesh. I felt a scream building, clamoring for freedom, ready to burst into existence. Swallowing my fear, I shakily released the bony fingers, giving myself to this thing before me.

Breath stinking of rot covered my face as I squeezed my eyes, trying to inhale without taking the festering odor into my lungs. “Please, I didn't understand.”

The fingers tighten, cutting off my airway. Gagging, I staggered, nearly falling to my knees, but the strength in the bony fingers holding me was relentless.

“You were warned, ignorance is not an excuse. You were told to stay away. Yet, you disturbed my rest. A boon must be paid, your life is mine, forfeited.”

“No!” I cried, “please,” I begged.

A wheezing croak met my ears, “I claim your life. It is done.”

Suddenly, the hands released me as I sagged against the concrete, sliding down to the floor. Old leather boots scuffed from years of wear were before my eyes. I looked up to find the eyes of my executioner looking down at me. “Come, it is time to feed my desire.”

“No... no... no...” I sobbed as I scooted back, hugging the wall tighter.

A grim smile spread across his features. His hands claimed me once more. I cringed away as his lips split further still. “I've waited so long, the boon will be mine.”

He stretched my neck away from my shoulders, bringing his fangs to rest upon the tender pale flesh. “So sweet,” he whispered, breathing in my scent. “My life is yours, as yours is mine.” Then he broke the flesh.

He pulled long and hard, my blood pounded as my heart beat faster, pumping strongly at first, and slowly, weakening. My life slipping away, feeding his need, taken completely.

When again my eyes found my executioner, he appeared replenished. His flesh restored, even as my life fought for release.

He gazed into my glazing eyes, “The boon has been fulfilled. Your life for mine.” My heart stuttered one last time, and pity filled his eyes. “My life can be shared with the simply taking of my blood.”

My blood, I thought, slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing I remembered was the press of his flesh against mine.

When next I awoke, it was to the black pitch of night, my executioner beside me. “Why am I still alive?” I breathed in the cold night air, it tasted different, drier, full of a heady scent.

I felt him stretch, making to stand, pulling me up with him. “Come, tonight begins a new life.”

Glancing around, I found myself still in the basement, the smell of moldering concrete now filled my senses. Everything seemed bolder, striking my senses with fists of wonder.

“What's happened to me?”

“You're one with the night. It owns you as much as you own it. I am Gabriel, one of the fallen, and I've claimed your life, you are mine.” He hands were gentle now, his need sated with my life. Escape would be impossible, I could feel his mark burned deep within my soul. He brushed the wayward hair from my forehead. “Forgive me, it had been so long, I took you completely.”

I pulled away from him, gazing into this new world that held me in it's grip. It was no one's fault but my own. I had trespassed without regard, never believing the legends of old. I shook my head, those lessons were finished. Now, I needed to learn to survive in this new existence. One I wouldn't have chosen, but would gladly embrace. Gabriel stood beside me as I gazed into the night. Demons were supposed to be faerytales, but I knew they were real. One stood beside me, revived from the time before man roamed the Earth. One who had follow the Dark Prince, and suffered the consequences. Now, I was his mate, his lifeline to the present, and it could be no other way.


Well, see I did demons...sort of...still with a hint of vampire... couldn't help myself.


Remember to come back Friday to post responses to this week flash fiction!!

PS: If you have entered in the Clarity of Night flash fiction contest in the past, Jason is getting ready to post a new contest. If you like to participate and haven't received an email, please contact him @ Clarity of Night. Have fun if you plan to enter.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... One Week Late.....

I haven't participated in Sassy's SSSS in a while because I've been too freaking busy, lol. But, I decided to give this one a try because when I was over on her blog, I immediately knew how the story was going to evolve. Took less than thirty minutes, lol.... Last week's prompt was from L.P. Robinson (which I ever so slightly edited to pm instead of am).

One More Night

by: Dottie Taylor

Work Count:  525

At 10:00 pm, I arrived at 220 Jackson Lane and found the body of a teenaged boy wrapped in a blanket and hidden in the basement. His name is...

I checked the log sheet, Luis McEnberry, fifteen years old. I scrubbed a hand across my forehead, it was a bitch being the assistant medical examiner for LeRoy County. Doc Lassy never came out in the middle of the night.

Squatting down next to the body, I looked over at the police photographer, and he nodded his head.

“Hey Nic, this is a bitch of a night, ain't it?”

“Yeah Paulie it is, I could've lived forever without another one of these calls.”

“Fuck, me too. You ready ta see the body?”

“I guess so... hey Mark, get you ass over here.”

My assistant slouched over, barely more than a teenager himself. I motioned for him to help me lift the blanket, sliding it into it's own garbage size baggie.

“Man, Doc, I hate this shit... These latex gloves make me itch.”

“Shut up Mark, on three we roll the body.”

“Whatever you say Doc.”

“Three!” We eased the body over, and the photographer stood quickly, snapping a few more photos. I motioned for him to take a close up. There were odd markings on his neck.

Suddenly, the body sat up, shivered violently, then started kicking and gasping like a fish out of water.

I hadn't yet touched the body long enough to feel for a pulse, but someone's ass was going to get kicked, and I hoped it wouldn't be mine.

Hurriedly, I leaned in and grabbed the boy's shoulders. “I need 5cc's of eppy now!”

Mark jumped up and looked at me, “Shit Doc, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!” He stepped back, “this motherfucker's still alive!”

I motioned to the medical kit, and he shoved it toward me. Grabbing the quickpin, I jabbed the kid's thigh with the eppy pin, hoping to stimulate his breathing. As he started to relax in my grip, I felt his carotid, no pulse. What the fuck was going on?!?

His raspy voice whispered from his punctured throat, “What's happening to me?”

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist, pulling it to his mouth. He sniffed the flesh before ripping through it and squeezing it in a death grip against his mouth. “Mmmmm, I want...”

Distantly, I heard a scream, and then another, and I realized it was me. Jerking my arm away, gore covered his mouth. He heaved a huge sigh, and jumped to his feet, horrified. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO ME???” He flashed up the stairs, and I heard the door being torn from the house.

There was a mad dash of activity, APB's sent out, radios squawking, as I sank to the ground, holding my bloodied wrist. As I watched the blood coagulated, the burning eased. One of the cops wrapped it, trying to push me toward the ambulance, but I brushed him off. I could see the wound had already healed.

“I'm fine, I'll come by in the morning to make a statement.” As casually as I could, I walked to my car and slide behind the wheel, before the shivering started. I had to get home. What the hell was going on?



Well, see what I mean, 30 minutes to finish (it took longer to do the posting, lol)... and vampires.... yay!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Okay.... this Sunday story starter is from Sassy Brit, not this week, but the week before. LOL I was ill and didn't even attempted it, but it kept sticking in the back of my mind. Amy Romine's story starter, Reality Sucks, just kept calling to me, and damn it, I finally gave in and an wrote a response. I couldn't help myself....

Reality Sucks

by:  Dottie Taylor

word count:  930

    “Of course, the hottest day of the summer,” Rachel took a sip of her beer leaning back into Ben’s chest.  Within the course of the conversation Rachel and Ben had become wrapped up within each other as she shifted from his leg to between his legs sharing the edge of the bar stool with him. Her back against his chest, his right arm on the bar and his left resting comfortably along her hip and waist. He hadn’t noticed until she turned to grab her cigarettes off the bar and the warmth that had encompassed him was gone and she was taking his hand pulling him off the stool.

    Waving the pack of cigarettes playfully in front of him, she smiled and he followed her out to the parking lot.

    “Fresh air…” she said twirling around in delight, she precariously lost her footing and he reached out catching her against him. 

    “Whoa, slow down, Ginger,” he said as she laughed against him.

    “You,” she said pointing at him playfully, “haven’t changed.”

    “And that is a bad thing,” he said with a smile handing her a lit cigarette.

    “I didn’t say that,” she replied taking a drag shifting her weight to lean against the wall of the building.

    “And you have?”

    “I don’t know, what do you think?”

    “I think we’ve all changed.”

    “That is an easy excuse.”

    “It’s not an excuse, it's reality.”

    “Yeah well…reality sucks.”

    “Agreed.”

    “So what are we going to do about it then?”

###

     Ben shook his head at her, she knew his feelings, they'd been here before. He'd only returned for the funeral, not for her. As much as he would like to be attracted to her, he didn't work that way. It was fun to play, but when it came down to nuts and bolts, he needed something different.
     Still Rachel persisted. “Come on Ben, how do you know if you've never given it a try?”
     He laughed at her presumptions. “It isn't necessary to eat a pepper to know it's hot.”
    “Ah, but what if you'd never seen a pepper before?”
    “Then, sweetheart, I'd have a different tale to tell.” He smiled indulgently at her.
    “Come, lets have a few more drinks, I'm not nearly drunk enough yet.” She giggled as she grabbed his hand, leading him back to the bar.
    “Maybe, it's just me, but I think you've imbibed enough already.” But, he let her guide him back inside to reclaim their shared barstool.
   “Malcolm, we'll have some tequila I think.” She called as they returned.
   “Tequila? Are you trying to get me drunk?” Ben inquired, eyebrows raised.
   “Me? Would I do that?” She asked guilelessly.
   “I refer you back to our previous conversation.”
   The band entered and started to play some Emo-Screamo song, but with enough of a beat, that soon, Ben and Rachel were gyrating on the dance floor. The night grew warmer and drier. They danced and laughed, singing along when they could, twisting their bodies when they couldn't, getting drunker as the midnight came and went. When they were near to falling down, Malcolm called a cab, snuffing them inside with Rachel's address.
   When they arrived at the given address, the cabbie poured them into her ground floor apartment, where they continued to laugh and sing, peeling off shoes, jeans, shirts to drop on the floor. A trail led to the bed where they landed with a thud.
    Ben laid sideways on the bed, laughing as Rachel crawled over his body to the top of the bed, climbing inside the cool sheets. She crooked her finger, calling him to her.
    He shook his head, but followed her finger to climb inside the crisp sheets too.
    She ran her hand up and down the breath of his chest, teasing and touching as she brought her lips to caress his, her tongue tasting his mouth. He pulled away, “I'm sorry Rachel,” he said through the pounding of his heart, “I really wish I could....”
   “Shhhh....” she replied bringing her lips once more to his, “it's okay. We're just playing,” she grinned, and he made to push her away. “What? Are you afraid?”
    “Not afraid, but I don't want you to get the wrong idea.” He put a few inches between their bodies. 
    “Lets get some sleep, okay?” He smiled, brushing back the hair from his best friend's face.
    She faked a yawn, “sure....” and she again closed the distance between them.
   “Rachel....”
   “Shhhh.... relax...” and she kissed him again, tongue probing and teasing.
    Ben had never slept with a woman before, knew he shouldn't be doing it now. It wasn't how he was put together. His heart pounded, what the hell was he doing? He thought about Kyle, trying to stop her seeking lips.
    “God, Rachel, I can't....” He closed his eyes. She kissed his lips once more, begging him with her eyes.
    His face burned with shame as he thought of Kyle, alone, waiting for him. Now he was completely sober, the effects of the tequila long forgotten.
    Ben pushed Rachel away. “I have to go.... we shouldn't have let it go this far....” suddenly, he felt ill. He groped around finding jeans and shirt, slipping into his clothing with hurried hands.
    Rachel listened as the front door latch closed. What had she done? Tried to sleep with her best friend, just to say she could? What did that say about her? She wanted to call out after him, tell him she was sorry, say it was the tequila, it wouldn't happen again. Christ, what was she thinking?
    Ben shivered as he walked back to the hotel. It was his fault, maybe he was questioning his sexuality? If there was one thing he did know, he felt unsatisfied, wished Kyle had come with him. He entered the suite to find a suitcase next to his
     “Hey,” Kyle called, “I got a few days off, decided to join you after all.” He stepped from the bedroom, and smiled at Ben. “Hope you don't mind?”
     Ben's eyes landed on Kyle, and he smiled. “No, this is just want I needed. I'm going to grab a shower, I'll join you in a minute.”
    In the shower, Ben washed away the alcohol and Rachel's scent. This is what he wanted, he was more sure of it than ever before. He rushed from the shower, exhausted from the days events. Funerals were always hard, add Rachel into the mix, and his day had been torture.
    Kyle leaned across, grazing his lips. “Long day?”
   “I can't even begin to tell you.” Ben smiled, “lets get some sleep.”
   Kyle reached over, brushing the length of Ben's body as he turned off the light. “Okay, it's been a long day for me too, the flight was hell.” But Ben's body responded instantly to Kyle's closeness. The night was going to grow longer, but they had tomorrow too.


Wellllll.... I've never written anything like this before.... hope it sounds okay.... lol, but this is where my thoughts led me when I saw the prompt....

Ciao!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

This week Sassy Brit as offered an interesting story starter.  Our story starter has been provided by Tracy Cooper-Posey, the author of FATAL Wild Child. Check out her website here.

 

Fatal Consequences

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 750

The last two hours of my life formally began at 3:07 a.m. on Tuesday when Frens Yngvar tapped on my apartment door.

I didn't know right then, of course. It would take another four minutes for me to catch up on the news, because I was busy filing down the trigger on my Glock and had to cover up the tools and slide my back-up into my pants before I answered the door. I didn't hurry because who hurries at three in the morning? Visitors at that time are always bad news.

So I glanced through the peep hole and sighed when I saw Frens' buck teeth and pulled the door open just enough to glare at him. I also kept my foot against the back of it.

"Better be good," I mumbled, like I'd just woken up.

Frens got a funny look on his face. "Christ, where you been the last few hours?"

"Sleeping," I lied. "Until you woke me."

Frens glanced along the dim corridor, his top lip trying to curl over his big teeth. It was a sure sign he was deeply worried, when he tried that impossible feat. He leaned towards my door, making me reach for the gun at my back. But I didn't draw it. Not yet.

"Brody put a hit out on you," he breathed. "Maybe an hour ago."

Brody. Not Big Youta, who I had expected to be pissed at me. But Brody.

Goddamn it. That changed everything.

The fact that Brody had arranged the hit, not Youta, was distressing, so I could be maybe forgiven for being a little distracted. But that's how idiots get killed in my line of business. Frens must have known how the news would go down. Known and counted on it because what happened next was his fault.

Frens leaned against the door, whispering nervously, “Come on, let me in, anyone could be out here.” He twisted around, trying to see everywhere.

“Nah, I don't think so Frens, because you're right, anyone could be out there. You gave me your big news. Why don't you push off, head home, get some sleep.” My hand eased to the small of my back, resting on the .45.

He grinned, “Okay Sammy, whatever you say.” Almost wistful he added, “Why'd you go and piss off Brody?” Then, he acted like the biggest idiot in the world, not surprising, seeing what he was working with. It was either that or he had balls made of brass thinking he could take on Sammy Sunshine.

Frens's weight suddenly slammed into the door, but my foot didn't budge. As he brought his weapon up from his side, I shoved my .45 against his big nose. His eyes grew ten times their normal size as I motioned him inside the apartment. He fell onto the chair where I'd sat moments before.

“Tell me, Frens, who's out there with you? Don't lie to me, I can tell when you lie, you buckteeth stick out more.” And I grinned, smacking the gun on his nose, bringing tears to his eyes.

“Honest Sammy, no one's there except me. I swear.” Why did he try to lie? I told him not to lie.

Sliding the gun up along his head, I brought it to the middle of his forehead. “Call them.”

“Honest...” He started and I pushed the barrel into his pallid flesh.

“I said to call them.” Grinding out the words caused him to flinch, he realized in that moment his life was forfeited.

“Hank, Willy! Get in here! We got the freak!” Frens lied as he stared into the cold darkness of my eyes. In my other hand now rested the Glock with the hair trigger.

Hank and Willy burst through the door, guns drawn, to find the silenced barrel of my Glock smoking. Two quick shots to the brain, two little pings and Hank and Willy were done.

Frens made a small noise, not quite a scream. When I looked down at him, a dark patch grew to cover the front of his jeans.

“Je-sus Frens! Now how you going explain your wet pants?”

Relief flood his milky blue eyes, “you mean you're going to let me go?”

I barked out a harsh laugh. “Hell no! I meant when you spoke to Saint Peter at the pearly gates!” The Glock popped a third time, and he sagged in the chair. He would have only come after me again later.

Twisting my hair up in a sloppy bun and out of the way, I dragged the bodies to the corner and pushed the door closed. It wasn't my sunny disposition that earned me my unique name, but my long blonde hair, like rays of golden sunshine. Right now, Frens was probably wishing otherwise.

Time to go find fucking Brody, the asshole. Youta would have been easier to handle, Brody easier to find. He didn't think anyone had the cojones to come for him. But, this time he was wrong. He had met his match.

The apartment was small and had only been home for a couple of weeks, I wouldn't miss it. Grabbing the rag that laid at my feet, I brushed the door handles, the window seal, the fixtures in the kitchen and bathroom, the most likely places where trace was left behind. It was time to move anyway. The police would be crawling all over this place in a couple of hours. I snatched up my backpack and shoved my meager possessions inside; a few articles of clothing, a picture of my mom and sister. Dad was long gone by the time I was born.

The duffel was more important than a few pieces of clothing. My arsenal resided inside, and if I was going after Brody, I was going to need it. Fortunately, cash wouldn't be a problem, my line of work paid well.

With one last look behind me, I edged out of the apartment door and it to the stairwell as the elevator chimed. Looked like more company was coming, hell there was going to be a party! The door clicked behind me as I heard the pounding. There was a small woosh as the fire blew out into the hallway before sucking back into the apartment, taking those at the door with it. Collateral damage in the war that was about to start.



Thanks for the most excellent story starter Sassy and Tracy!!

Have a great Sunday!!

Ciao!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Well, I know I'm late, but only a little, and I finished a book last night! YAY! Now to write the review...

But instead of writing the book review, I whipped up a quick tale for Sassy Sunday Story Starter from Alternative Reads brought to us by Viviane Brentanos, author of Womens Contemporary Fiction. I know, not doing what I'm supposed to be doing....lol

Murder By Design

by:  Dottie Taylor

word count: 720

A hard rain drummed out its incessant beat. Max Jackson rested his head against the mullioned windowpane and wondered if he’d ever get used to the capricious climate. A mundane deliberation, really. The weather was the least of his worries.

Now, the police, that was the real worry. That's why he was hold up here. Not that it was bad here, except for the incessant raining, the heat and humidity, mosquitoes big enough to carry away small animals ... aside from that, it was pretty great.

And who knows, maybe they'll try to pin the murder on someone else. Yeah. Right. His fingerprints were all over the knife, her blood on his clothes, and they had been seen together, earlier in the evening. All looks pretty suspicious, even to him. Fucked. That's what he was, fucked.

He ran a hand over his tired face, and sighed. He wished Billy would call.

******

Back in New York, Billy stared at the phone. She'd promised him she'd call, but she hadn't, knew she wouldn't, it was too easy. Instead she opened the phone and dialed 911.

“Nine-One-One operator...What's the nature of your emergency?” The police operator spoke through the clicking of computer keys.

“I know the location of Max Jackson, he's wanted in connection to the Linda McNeary murder?”

“Please hold for the detective.” The operator voice was anxious, suspicious. Moments later, another voice filled her ear.

“This is Detective Michaels, with whom am I speaking with?”

“That's not really important is it? I mean, I'm just want to do my civic duty, I don't want to leave my name.”

“Yes, ma'am, but there's a reward for information regarding the case, no name no reward.”

“Oh, well... I guess it wouldn't hurt... My name is Susy, Susy Kurts.”

“Okay, Ms. Kurts, why don't you tell me what you know?”

“Well... Max Jackson, he's kind of a friend, and well, he called me. Said he was staying down in New Orleans, in the French Quarter, place called Mabel's. He supposed to have murdered that girl...”

“You sure about that?”

“As you as you're sitting there whittling your thumbs, and he did call me.”

“We'll check it out. Can you come in, sign a statement?”

“Gee, detective, I don't know....I don't want to get involved.....”

“Ma'am, you're already involved. It'd be better for us if you could come in.”

“I'll have to think about it, Detective....”

“Is this a good number, if we need to, we can reach you back?”

“Yeah, sure.”




Billy disconnected the call, went to the memory, and erased it. The night was dark, she didn't think anyone was paying attention, but still better safe than sorry. As she walked along the sidewalk, she wiped the phone clean, dropping it into a trash can, and kept walking, not missing a step. As she turned the corner, she held up hand, hailing a cab. This side of town was definitely not for her.

Back in her apartment, she turned on the hot water, added some bath salts. What was that old commercial her mother used to say? Oh, yeah...  Calgon, take me away! She sighed. She'd had a long day, and she deserved a soak, she thought. She slipped out of her clothes and into the hot water.

Well, at least all of that nasty business had been taken care of. What a mess Linda turned out to be! Then, she'd had to do damage control, get her out of the way, and it wasn't nearly as hard this time. She did have to sacrifice her one of her best outfits, she really was going to miss her Louis, that's for sure. Next time, she pick up one of those cheap rainsuits, she just didn't own anything suitable for that kind of mess.

The easy part had been getting Max to go check on Linda, that meant framing him was easy too, and the police, the idiots were eating out of the palm of her hand. The hard part was the clean up, so many loose ends to tie up. And who would have guessed Max was so damn slippery? Murder, such a messy business, only to be done when absolutely necessary. She thought for a moment. Maybe she'd make that her new personal motto.




So, okay, a little dark, sociopathic...lol... but not too bad. Fun to play with...

Ciao!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Well, late again, but at least I managed to get a response to this wonderful prompt provided by Daniel Arenson @ Sassy Brit's Alternative Read.  I really enjoy this one, but then I really enjoy them all!!

So, this is how I saw this week's prompt:

Gangster's Dance

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 600

When she kicked open the door, gun in hand, she found them waiting.

Sam slammed her back against the wall, holstering her gun, recognition in her eyes. “You been waiting long?”

“Nah,” Blonde ponytail smiled, then challenged, “Boss said to give you a try. Think you can take us?”

“Why the hell not. I don't have anything better to do.”

At once, the melee started, Blondie sprang into action, and the one holding up the far wall casually strolled forward, ready to take Blondie's place, should there be a need. He glanced at his nails, picked imaged fuzz from his lapel. He had a nice vanilla scent rolling off his body, his only appealing feature. Both men were walking steroid adverts, all biceps, rock-hard abs, thick thighs. When Blondie's body slid to the tiled floor, Vanilla's eyes were unbelieving.

He dropped to a fighting stance, holding out a hand. He winked, blew a kiss, and smiled as he motioned her forward.

Bastard. He thought he was better than Blondie. Hell, better than her.... news flash, pal, not even on a bad day.

She grinned and stepped forward, bringing her knee up hard into Vanilla's groin. She never said the fight would be fair. He gasped as he went down howling, “Bitch!” He joined Blondie who had started moving. He was going to need some ice if he ever wanted to use his jewels again.

“Fuck you. Who the hell do you think you are?” She looked over at the pair.

Behind her another voice answered, “They're my new bodyguards, and I can see, I've been sorely misled.” The Boss walked over to his wannabees and kicked at them with a polish wing tip. “Get up off our asses now! Gawd damn it, get the fuck up!” He spun around, pointing a manicure finger, “And you, that's enough! You think these guys grow on trees?”

“I think before you come into my home again, I should have some warning. Next time, I might just start shooting, instead of ass kicking.” Her eyes glowed daggers in their depths.

The Boss turned away and grinned, this is why she was his girl, she took shit from nobody. He schooled his face and turned back to face her. “Last time I looked, I signed your check too.”

She paused with her hand on her holstered gun. “You really wanna go there?”

He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah, but your ass doesn't own mine. Don't start acting like it does.”

He swallowed, glancing back at Blondie and Vanilla. “You let a 5 foot, 100 pound girl kick your asses?”

“Sorry Boss, won't happen again.”

“Fucking liars. What to try again?” She cracked her knuckles.

They looked at each other. “No ma'am.”

“Then, get the hell out of my house.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Blondie walked away, but Vanilla wasn't as lucky, he was having trouble moving his legs.

She sighed, “Hold up.” She turned into the kitchen, coming back with a small ice pack. “Here, least I can do.”

He gingerly rested the ice against his throbbing jewels, sighing. “Thanks.”

“Don't mention, ever. Get out.”

He eased around her, making for the door.

The Boss gave her a heated look, “I'll see you tonight?”

She glanced over at him. “Got a job. Maybe later.”

He leaned in with a punishing kiss, bruising her lips. “Make sure you do.”

Her eyes glinted. “Prick.”

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

I've been meaning to post a response to Sassy Brit's Sunday Story Starter, this week's prompt from Kiki Howell, and I kept getting delayed, until I looked up and it was Tuesday... Oh, my.... So, here it is, late but better than never...

 

The Beauty and The Beast

by: Dottie Taylor

word count:  786

Despite the heat from the fire which warmed her skin, an icy chill ran the length of her spine as if ice was being poured down her back. "What are you?" she dared ask the shadowed figure, the one which was as menacing as it was seductive.

Gwynith had been shown into the Lord's library to wait for Denbarry. As she peered into the shadows, the figured moved within them once more. Something about this shadowy figure called to her, pulled her heartstrings, and she moved closer.

“I'm too horrible for your eyes, milady.” He spoke with a slur, and folded the shadows deeper around himself.

She reached out, brushing the shadows with her fingertips, and he hissed, jerking back.

“You mustn't, milady, my body is too corrupt with foulness.” He leaned further back, but as he turned away, even more of his form was revealed. His body appeared to be twisted, deformed, animalistic. Yet, she could see a cravat with an emblem of nobility held at his throat.

“What has happen to you, milord?” She cried, and again she reached out, stepping into the shadows, to find the man cringing back.

He roared, baring canines long enough for a tiger, and as he brought his hands to cover his face, claws clung to his fingertips, large enough for a wolf. He chest was broad and a sheen of fur bristled up from his collar of his fine silk shirt that stretched to the point of bursting. When he walked, his pants shifted oddly, and he wore no shoes, even though it was the dead of winter.

Then, she caught sight of his face, behind the hair, the teeth, the leathered skin, on her soul, it was Lord Denbarry!

She gasped, and crept closer when all of her instincts screamed to leave, run away as fast and far as her legs could carry her. But her pride made her stay, she had given her word, and keep it she would. Her heart pounded, and still she moved closer until she stood at his elbow which she tentatively touched.

“Lord Denbarry? It is I, Gwynith.” She whispered, and leaned closer, “what has happened to you, milord?” She had left three years prior, to attend school, but she was home now. The first person she had sought out had been Lord Denbarry.

“It was a perversion, an evilness visited upon me.” He looked down, he fisted his hands, hiding his claws. “My family curse,” he whispered, “on my twenty-five birthday, this was my gift. During the daylight hours, I am as normal as any other gentleman, but as dusk falls upon the light, the shift occurs, and the beast is born.” He glanced away, looked anywhere but upon her face where she might see his true horror, his eyes, black orbs surrounding blood red pinpoints.

She reached out, drawing his face back to her, and he squeezed his eyes. “Please leave me, please Gwynith, do not gaze upon me.” Tears glisten in the corners of his tightly closed eyes. Why did it have to be Gwynith, he furiously thought, anyone but her. He remembered how she looked as a child, auburn pigtails, frogs in her dress pockets, she had followed him around like a lost puppy, infatuated by the boy of the manor, and truthfully, he had always waited for her in the mornings so they could chase through the marshes together. He secretly delighted in it.

Finally she spoke, “Denbarry, I'm not some frail miss, I will not faint away. Three years ago, I told you I would return, and so I have.” She reached to take his... hand, and he was still the same Denbarry she remembered from childhood.

Slowly, Denbarry let her lead him to the fire and pushed him into the chair before it. It was the first time he'd seen her clearly, without the darkness of the shadows or the play of the fire across her features, and he caught his breath. She astounded him with her beauty, tiny stature, curling auburn hair which fell delicately over her shoulders with a springy bounce, bright green eyes sparking with intelligence, red full lips which begged for kisses, and the body of Athena herself. In that moment as she held his hand, unafraid, he knew his heart was lost to her forever. His beauty.

As Gwynith lead him across the room, she remembered all the times in her childhood he had been so indulgent, so kind, when he didn't have to be. She gazed upon him, even as the beast, he was a marvel of wonder. Again, her heart tugged and broke just a little, and she realized that no matter his appearance, she belonged to him, had and would always belong to him. She let her fingers linger upon his arm with possessiveness. Her beast.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Every Sunday, Sassy Brit @ Alternative-Read offers a Sunday morning story starter.  This Sunday story starter was provided by Karen Mercury.  It was an excellent couple of lines, and I found myself drawn back to one of the early prompts, continuing the story.  Here's my response to the prompt.

Soul Fire, Part 2

by: Dottie Taylor

word count: 600

“For the love of Mike!” cried Wallingford, nearly jumping from his tennis shoes at the sight of his partner, Fowler. “I thought you were a ghost!”

But the transparent, sunken, and oddly green image of Fowler just hovered there at the edge of the cliff, saying nothing.

“Fowler?” Wallingford called out. Still Fowler clung to the precipice, almost seeming to float, and as Wallingford watched, Fowler drifted away from the boundary, into the lightness of the breaking dawn.

“What the fu...” Wallingford shrank back, away from edge, away from his partner, away from death. “Son of a bitch!” Wallingford bit out. He blinked his eyes again and again in disbelief. Fowler was... no way in hell was Fowler out there floating around off the edge of the cliff, he was floating around out there like some damnable ghost.

Then, Wallingford saw Fowler's lips begin to move, speaking to him, gesturing, and finally pointing at him. Wallingford's heart beat frantically against his ribs, and he took a deep shuddering breath, and stepped forward.

“Fowler, what's happened?” He said barely louder than a whisper, his eyes filled with horror. His best friend and partner he thought shaking his head, and Fowler's ghostly appearance wobbled in and out of focus.

Wallingford's eyes bulged because even though Fowler's lips refused to let sound pass them, there was a burst of noise inside Wallingford's head. He clapped his hands tightly over his ears, and the volume for dialed down, he was able to recognize Fowler's voice.

“...this time. You have to stop it, you have to keep it....” And his voice faded, but his countenance still hung in the air above him. “....hurry, soon it will be too late... save Reena....”

Wallingford looking anxiously at his partner, not really believing any of this, he was probably at home asleep in his bed, having a nightmare instead of his usual playboy bunny filled ones. He shook his head, bit his lip hard enough to draw the coppery taste of blood into his mouth. No, this wasn't a dream, not unless you can bled and feel pain in one.

“Fowler, who's Reena, what are you talking about?” Wallingford groaned, he held a hand to his head, it pounded almost as hard as his heart.

“....investigation …....” Fowler's visage began to slip away.

“Wait! I don't know who Reena is?!?” Wallingford howled.

Again he heard the voice bounding around his skull. “.... case file... hurry.... it's coming...”

Wallingford watched Fowler slip away. He turned away from the cliff as he rushed back down to find his Taurus, but he looked back one last time. A scream filled his throbbing head, Fowler wouldn't be visiting him again any time soon.

He sped back across town to their offices, a seedy building that had seen better days. He burst into the room he shared with Fowler and tore open the files, throwing the ones he didn't need onto the floor, hands shaking as he scanned the pages rapidly looking for the one word that would stand out, Reena, she had to be here. He had to find her, if he didn't he wouldn't be able to live with himself.

Finally, his finger came to rest on the name. A murder investigation he and Fowler had worked on, one of the people interviewed was a girl named Reena. A bead of dread slithered down Wallingford's chest, cold as ice. Something was hunting, it was getting closer. He jammed the file inside his coat, racing from the office, he had to be in time.



That's it, until next time.  Join me in the response if you'd like.

Ciao...

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Sassy Brit offers a Sunday morning story starter, and this week's starter was offered by Laura Tolomei.  Thanks Laura!  It was supposed to be a naughty one, but I've been thinking about last year's NaNoWriMo story, thinking it's time to give it another peek, and a short story involving it's world came to me.  So, no naughty for me this morning, lol, urban fantasy instead.  But I really had fun with this one, and it let me bring one of the secondary characters to life.  Without further ado (because I really should be cleaning and wrapping Christmas presents.... lol), here's a taste of the book, Magic is Murder.

Magic is Murder, A Short Story

by Dottie Taylor

word count: 1000

“Delicious.” Sucking avidly, the beautiful man with long, light-brown hair and mysterious smoky-green eyes scraped off all traces of her taste before raising his gaze. “You think it’s her, precious?”

“Delicious.” Sucking avidly, the beautiful man with long, blue-black hair and mysterious dark chocolate eyes scraped off all traces of her taste before raising his gaze. “You think it’s her, precious?”

Franklin twisted around, finding Micca's eyes upon him, and grinned at his old adversary, laughing at the endearment.

“Do you think she's the one to revive me, bring me back to my full strength? She's so sweet, tasty.” He lapped and chuckled at the horror he saw in Micca's eyes, already he looked as he had in their youth.

Micca struggled against her restraints as she fought for liberation. Her advanced years halting her progress, strength flagging much too early. Devlin Franklin, an old enemy from her past had come back to haunt her, as he had promised; the old bastard trying to fulfill his threats.

She glanced at her granddaughter, Kara, restrained as well and shuddered, this was all Micca's fault, she been in a hurry, careless. She cringed with every touch of Franklin's hands as they brushed across Kara's unconscious body, each sip of her blood a blasphemy, beastly opportunistic.

This wasn't supposed to happen, Franklin had been so weakened with Kara's last confrontation, Micca had hoped his death would rapidly approach. Instead he had become something far worse, he leaned in and partook of Kara's body once more, flinging back his head to laugh giddily, quickly gaining unearned confidence. He supposed Micca was done in, down and out, but the necromancer and warlock had figured wrong, not with her granddaughter's life at stake.

Micca closed her eyes, calling upon the elements of the Earth, she had given much of her power to Kara, but an Earth witch is never truly without unbidden abilities. Micca reached out to terra firma, asking the Earth of spill open. The Earth shuddered, groaned as the floor quaked beneath their feet. Franklin, so taken with his conquest, noticed nothing.

Next Micca, reached out to the creatures crawling through the soil; the insects, rats, and the burrowing animals, ferrets. She touched the consciousness of those tiny creatures, calling them from the Earth and to her service.

Micca felt them, could hear them, scraping the walls, the floor, until seeing the tiniest ones exploring the space, steadily approaching Franklin as he again he leaned over Kara's prone body, taking the smallest of sips, lapping at her blood and the strength held within her body, relishing what he had tried to take once before.

Micca watched as insects of all kinds scuttled across the floor to began the journey over Franklin's clothing, he so involved with seeking his own pleasure, caught unaware.... until the biting started as the insects found a home beneath his robes.

At first he tried to brush away the annoyance, but soon he realized something was wrong as he swatted his body. Next came the rats, advantageous animals that nipped his flesh as he exposed his partial renewed body, half rotting corpse, half defined muscles, the effects of partaking an Earth witch's blood.

Finally the ferrets, bold and inquisitive creatures, leapt upon his head, gouging eyes, biting flesh, as the necromancer half turned vampire flung himself away from Kara's body. How long the creatures could keep up their attacks, Micca didn't know.

Without Franklin blocking her thoughts, she rapidly reached out to the consciousness of her granddaughter, mentally shaking her, breaking Franklin's hold. Kara's eyes fluttered, opened, finding those of her Grams. Silently they whispered, with Kara reaching out to caress her lover, Lucas.

Franklin fought free of his tiny attackers as Micca let the Earth's tiniest ones go. Kara's eyes fluttered closed in feigned unconsciousness as Franklin stormed back across the room.

He leaned down shoving his face inches from Micca's, his fangs glistened as he brought back his hand, smacking her across the face. “Don't interfere again, your time will come, but first the youngling who thought she could challenge me greets her death.” He grounded out.

He straddled Kara's body, bringing his face to her's and in his haste to take her life, failed to see the glow of her body. As his fangs touched her flesh, his strength began to seep away. Finally he saw the barest movement of her lips, and he twisted his head around to watch Micca's move as well.

“What are you doing to me Earth bitch?!” He bellowed, trying to separate himself from Kara's glow. Micca and Kara opened their eyes together, saying what he couldn't hear moments before.

“Take what the necromancer perverted,

return to the Earth the undeserved.”

“Return the power diverted,

by the grace of we two, blessed be, let is be so.”

“Noooo!” Franklin screamed, finally releasing himself, but the flush of rejuvenation halted.  His worm-worned death mask fell back into place, his muscles sagged, wasted once more. He scurried away, the shadows becoming his friendly shades, concealed within their darkness.

Kara freed her wrists, then her ankles, and hurried to the aid of her Grams. Lucas came storming in, guns drawn, ready to kill whatever stood between him and his lovely ladies. He gathered them close, his lips lingering upon Kara's. “I can't let you out of my sight for a moment,” he blustered, “no more Solstice shopping without an armed escort!” Together they headed back to Kara's parents home where rest, and if Lucas had his way, ravishing Kara's body awaited. Solstice only comes once a year.



Okay, Devlin's description doesn't exactly match, but with a few tiny adjustments, blue-black hair, and dark chocolate eyes, it makes this short story, part of the book from last year, come to life (forgive me Ms. Tolomei was slightly adjusting to fit my needs.  Thanks for the story starter!).  I'm way over on the word count, but couldn't turn the story back off once it started flowing.  It was nice to revisit the characters from last year.

If you'd like to play along, join Sassy Brit by clicking here!

Have a wonderful Sunday!

Ciao!

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

I seem to be late with everything these days, lol, and it's the same with the SSSS. Sassy Brit over at Alternative Read offers a Sassy Sunday Story Starter each week, and this week's starter was offered by Angelika Devlyn author of Black Ice.  This week was a single line.... "You'll never guess who has just walked in!"  I had to give it a try.

Soul Fire, Part 1

By Dottie Taylor

word count: 500

"You'll never guess who has just walked in!" Brea squealed as she rushed into the room.

Her sister, Reena, glanced over at Brea, rolling her eyes. “Let me guess, Rob Pattinson.... Daniel Radcliffe.... Joe Jonas...? Stop me if I get close.” Reena grinned, Brea was such a drama queen.

Brea scoffed at her sister. “Nooo.... Don't be silly!” She huffed a little, but couldn't contain herself almost ready to explode. “Omigosh, you're not going to believe it!!” She squeed, happiness shining in her eyes.

“So, who's here?” Reena eyed her sister, truly curious now, Brea was easy to excite, but she was bouncing off the walls.

“Aunt Debbie and Uncle Ron, and guess who they brought? Their new foreign exchange student, Petrov something or other...! Brea buzzed, almost quivering. “He's gorgeous... dark hair, big blue eyes. You gotta see him! But, remember, I saw him first!” She smiled, dragging Reena to her feet.

“Oh, you saw him first alright, go for it, I've had my fill.” Reena pulled her hand back. “Really, it's very okay with me.”

“Just come and meet him.” Brea begged, “come on Reen, I'd do it for you.” She pushed out her bottom lip in a pout, giving her sister big chocolate brown puppy dog eyes. Brea was one with all the looks, red full lips, glossy blonde hair, curves in all the right places. People always thought she was the oldest sister, while when Reena looked in the mirror all she saw was curly red hair, pink pudgy lips, and she was short, not tall like Brea at all. Once guys saw Brea, Reena hardly stood a chance, it happened all the time.

“Alright, I'll come meet your Petrov whatever, don't say I didn't do you any favors.” Reena sighed, following her sister.

Brea hurried back into the room while Reena made her way down the hall, halting as Brea snatched up her hand.

“Reena, meet Petrov, Petrov, my sister Reena.” Brea gushed as she released Reena's hand and grabbed Petrov's.

Petrov's blue eyes rested upon Reena, and suddenly she felt shy, the focus of his attention, she squirmed under his penetrating gaze.  “Nice to meet you, Petrov, hope you're having a good time.”

When he spoke, Reena's eyes were drawn to his lips which twitched in almost a smile. “Nice to meet you too Reena, I was thinking of taking a walk, would you like to join me?” Again those arresting blue eyes studied Reena, but before she could reply Brea burst out, “I'd love to!”

Still Petrov's demanding eyes held Reena's, but Brea was lost in her own thoughts, unaware of Petrov's focus. As Brea pulled him from the room, he broke eye contact to lean in to hear her whisperings. But before they left the house, he once again sought out Reena, with a promise held in those blue eyes, but a promise of what? And why?


I don't know why, but when I read this one line, I immediately thought YA.... maybe it was the words or the way my eyes saw them, but anyway, YA is where this flash went.

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it, and I have a feeling there's more to tell....

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

It's late, but like I said eariler... long weekend here. Sassy Brit from Alternative Reads offered a Sunday Story Starter, and this Sunday, the starter was so simplistic, that I had to give it a try. Hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. :)  This story starter was brought to us by Bill Cady.

A Change of Life
by Dottie Taylor

word count:  500

"I probably should've killed her."

She said it would be merciful, but the last thing I wanted was her death. All I could think about was her turquoise eyes. How when she laughed, her eyes sparkled, how when she looked at me, love glowed. Turning back, I headed to the bedroom.

Entering the room was like a time warp, this was where we'd lived and loved. Gazing around the room, my eyes fell upon the bed. She languished against the sheets, twisting, turning, and finally catching me there, looking back at her.

“What do you want?” Em asked, Emma who'd been my high school sweetheart, who knew all my secrets. Tears gathered in twin turquoise pools. “I told you to leave, I don't want to you to see me. Go. Get out!”

Still I stood there, I couldn't leave her to her cursed existence.  It wasn't fair, but who said life was fair? Crossing the room, I stood before the bed with my hands shoved into my jean pockets. Slowly I lifted my hands, first one button, and then the next came undone.

“Maybe you didn't understand me, I can't stop this, I'll kill you.” As her tears began to fall, I dropped my shirt to the floor, resting my hand on the fly of my jeans, easing it down as well.

“Maybe I don't care,” I said, “maybe this is what I want. If I have to live without you, I'd just as soon die.”

“You will, when I change, you will.” Em turned away, “Don't make me hurt you.”

“Like ripping out my heart isn't killing me.” I sighed, and smiled at my own joke, because when she changed, if she no longer knew me; she was right, I wouldn't have to worry about my heart, it was my throat she'd be ripping out.

Her eyes watched my hands work, then shot back to mine, fear burned deep inside her blue orbs.

“You said love could conquer all, our love would last a lifetime.” I gazed down at her, slipping between the sheets. “Let me love you Em.” Leaning in, I captured her ripe full lips, my hands finding her soft places, our bodies twined as we came together, loving.... This was mine.... forever mine.

Em broke from our kisses, and pushed herself away. “Please, Dean, hurry, it's coming. I can feel it, you have to get away!” She begged, but I had no intention of leaving, not even when her beast circled.

She glanced at me one last time, her breaths coming in hard short bursts as her bones popped and lengthened, luxuriate fur exploding from her flesh.

As she shifted, instead of the insanity she had feared, her beast purred with pleasure, rubbing the length of my familiar body with fragrant fur.

“Gorgeous Emma,” I gently stroked her soft fur as the panther stretched.... forever mine.


If you'd like to play along, click Sassy Brit, Alternative Read.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read'

Sassy Brit's story starter for Sunday was something unusual, and with art work of the author available on her blog, instead of looking for something else to spark my imagination, nothing else was needed. The War of the Worlds, all four or five re-tellings of Orson Welles masterpiece as always been a favorite of mine. Jeff Wayne's art work was perfect for the prompt....

I'm very late with my response, I had to rejoin the land of the living.... it was questionable for a time.....

The Life and Time of Thomas Moore

by Dottie Taylor

word count: 500

“The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one,” he said.

“The chances of anything coming from Mars are a million to one?"

"but still they come!”

Thomas glanced around the table, was his the only voice of reason, did no one understand the threat? “You have to believe me, I saw it on the monitor, a sudden flare of energy from the Martian Delta Quadrant!”

Eyes filled with skepticism peered back at Thomas. “If there was a sudden energy burst from any of the Quadrants, how come our equipment isn't picking it up? Are you going to tell us it's been magically cloaked somehow? How much time do you spend watching those old re-runs of Star Trek anyway?” There was a burst of laughter around the table as Thomas's face reddened.

It was a well known fact he was a Star Trek buff, but this wasn't some fantasy of an overactive imagination, he saw what he saw, either they believed him or not. “Never mind, I should have known better than to broach the subject.” He stood to leave, dinner uneaten. “If you want my resignation, just say so.”

“Thomas, sit down, finish your dinner, no one is asking for your resignation.” Chief Wilson responded, Thomas's boss. “We only ask that you be reasonable, stop making these wild statements.”

Thomas sank down into his chair. He knew he was the odd man out, it'd always been the case. “Sure Chief, you won't hear anymore about it.”

For the next two nights, Thomas nervously watched the monitors in the lab set aside with a direct link to the Hubble Telescope. Nothing, the days stretch to a week, maybe it had been a figment of his imagination.

On the eighth day, there was a sudden flare in the Earth's atmosphere, Thomas watched it happen, but had learned from his earlier mistake. The bomb shelter had been build under his home during the Cuban Missile Crisis in the 1960's. After witnessing the first flare in the Martian atmosphere, he'd had the place cleaned and stocked with survival gear, food and water.

When the U.S. Government announced the disturbance in the Earth's atmosphere, Thomas installed a small gas generator and hundreds of gallons of gas, capable of sustaining his needs long after his death, for at least next hundred years.

When media reports began to announce the sighting of alien cylindrical objects in the heavens, Thomas quit his job. And when the first reports of an alien invasion screamed through the radio stations, Thomas sealed his shelter.

It was all over in a matter of weeks, Earth had been stripped of most of it's population, natural resources, food was scarce, water precious, but the Martians had left.

When Thomas was able to once again pick up a local radio station still broadcasting, he found out his old boss, Chief Wilson was one of the first to die. Pay back was a bitch.


A new twist on an old favorite, this time the Martians won, weren't killed off by Earthly viruses.  Stronger, better aliens....

Okay, I don't write much scifi, but at least I had fun, and it only took about an hour.  Now, back to NaNo, a long way to go if I'm going to finish on time.

Sassy Sunday Story Starter.... from Sassy Brit 'Alternative-Read' (One Day Late, Oops!!)

This week's story started was inspired by Darkside Devlyn... raising eyebrows, loving the name...

Together Forever

by Dottie Taylor

word count:  500

"Yes. I did." Tammy said with a cold look, which made Tim shiver. She walked over his grave. "And there is absolutely nothing you can do about it!" She added turning her back on him, so he could not see her smile.

Tim turned as she made to leave, gather his flagging strength. “So, that's it, you think you're free? You end my life, and you're just gonna walk away?” His anger spiked, his hands itched with the need to wrap them firmly around her velvet throat. He'd worshiped her body, adored her flesh, licked every inch of her soft pliant skin. He'd given as much pleasure as he had received. This was the woman who stole his heart.

Tammy glanced over her shoulder, eying his grave. She flung back her head, a throaty laugh bubble out. “It was fun while it lasted, but as they say, all good things must come to an end.” She winked and laughed again, “Even if I had to help it along the way.” She flashed her sapphire orbs, “I think you got your money's worth.”

She turned and strolled away, on to the next adventure in her life. She'd always been able to see and talk to ghosts, and she'd created a few, too bad they were so clingy in the end. She lifted her eyebrow and quirked in amusement, this was the first of her conquests in her bid for fortune, fame. Tim's stocks alone would let her live in style, but it was never enough.

That night, Tim came to Tammy, his hands roving over her sweet flesh, touching and tasting as she groaned.  Her buds hardened, plucked by the fire of his ghostly lips.  Her tanned toned thighs heated as unseen fingers caressed as she arched up and back, crying out with release.

“That's right love,” Tim whispered against her ear, brushing his lips against hers as she sighed with contentment, and spectral hands quivered with need.

“See how good it feels?” His hands soothed her heated body and crept higher, comforting with his touch, until they found the velvety flesh of her long beautiful throat.

Tammy groaned in her would be dream, God, fantasy was better than reality.... then she felt the icy fingers of her ghostly lover, tightening, squeezing with incredible pressure.  Strong hands encircled her throat crushing with quickening need. Tammy struggled for consciousness, fighting to end the dream as she choked, fought for air, gasped frantically.....

“Hello, love,” Tim called to Tammy, as she joined him in death.

“You son of a bitch, what've you done?” Tammy cried as she looked back at life.

“I couldn't let you just leave. Now we'll be together forever.” Tim grinned and linked arms with hers. Revenge was best served cold, and he savored it's flavor.

I'm late, wasn't home much yesterday, and NaNo-ing for the rest, but here it is, better later than never!!