For those of you unfamiliar with the concept, flash fiction is a short piece of writing, usually under 500 words. Mine may end up a little longer, as I like to ramble when I tell a story, but I'd like to try and keep them about that long. My friend Pete (wave) is the one who got me hooked on the concept with his exceptional talent for the craft. I have asked another friend of mine, David (hug), to supply me with a prompt once a week. I am starting this week with a piece I actually came up with on my own, mainly because I accidentally tore my feather pillow, and ended up with feathers everywhere.
If anybody out there would like a short story written, please email me with your prompt. I will write and post it here, and email you a copy. Ideas, folks. Give me all of them!
Anyway, without further ado, please enjoy the first of many pieces of flash fiction.
Disclaimer: Mild sexuality, but not graphic. More for atmosphere.
Pillow Talk
"I love your knees."
"My knees? Why?"
His slightly callused hands, roughened by clay and paint thinner, gently trace up my calves to the body part in question. He pauses, fingers dancing up and down, back to front. I giggle and pull away, feeling shy. He will have none of it. Languidly, he rolls me onto my back, body pressing into mine so he can keep me in place, right where he wants me. His hand continues its journey, caressing soft and unexpected places. Trekking up my thigh, pausing at my hipbone, fingers plucking across the bone as if he's playing a guitar, strumming invisible strings that make my back bow, a gasp escaping my throat. Nuzzling my neck, he fans air onto the juncture between my neck and shoulder, knowing just the right spots. I sigh, allowing myself to enjoy the sensation.
"I just like them. And your hips. And your belly, because it's soft and warm. Your ribs. They contrast with the softness of your belly, especially when you arch like that. Your whole body is full of curves, edges, contrasts. Any artist would be happy to have you as his muse."
I blush, hardly noticeable in the barely golden light of early morning. His lips find mine in the near darkness, a gentle brush of satin. My favorite instrument of passion. His hands continue to explore those areas laid bare before him, treating me as if I am a feast. He is starving. Gently cupping my breasts, his lips continue their erotic assault on my own, kissing me, devouring me until I can no longer remember my name. My quiet moan is echoed as I unconsciously arch into his touch. His lips leave mine to find my ear, gently nibbling the delicate shell as I squirm and moan.
"Your body is a delight. I don't know if I will ever get my fill. The question is..."
He raises an eyebrow as he regards me, seemingly oblivious to the effect his hands have on my body. His own body, however, reacts, even if he chooses to ignore it. I can feel him growing hard against me, pressing impressively into my side. I pant.
"... the question is?"
He smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. Those perfectly chocolate orbs remain pensive, is if unsure as to how I will respond.
"The question is how long the muse plans to allow me to indulge in the delights she offers. And what she requires as payment for such a bounty."
That look in his eye. As if he found...
"... everything I could want, but how long will it be mine? How could someone as incredible as you want to be with someone like me?"
I pull myself back from the troublesome delights of his eyes, those deep pools of emotion. Pausing before I respond, I run my hands through the silky softness of his inky black hair and sigh. It always comes down to this, does it not? No matter. I am ready. I choose my words carefully, so he understands. He must understand.
"What are you willing to pay for a muse such as me to stay by your side? How long would you like me to be here?"
That lost look that has been haunting his eyes is replaced by disbelief and apprehension. He captures my fingers in his, pulling me close and burying his face in my long, golden hair. What a contrasting pair we make, with his coarse, dark lines and my golden curves. I smile in spite of the seriousness of the conversation and wait for his answer.
"I would give anything... give up anything... to love you for as long as I live. I have never met anybody like you and I would spend the rest of my life searching for you in every woman I meet. What is the price when I offer such love, this kind of devotion? What will it cost me?"
My soft smile widens, the emotions in his brown eyes echoed in the swirling blue and yellow of my own. Twin suns surrounded by fields of the brightest blue.
"The price you ask? You must devote yourself to me. Every day, in every way, for the rest of your life. Are you willing to do that?"
The clouds in his eyes break, and all that's left is pure joy and unbridled love.
"Yes. God, yes. I can give you that."
"Do you promise?"
He looks at me, confused. Taking my hands in his, a look of earnestness on his face, he repeats my words. Low and clear, ringing with finality as he says them. The choice is made.
"I promise. I will be yours forever, if only you choose to be mine."
It's been so long since those words rang true. I believe him. I smile and release his hands, standing unsteadily. He reaches for me, but I brush his hands back.
"Wait. Watch. See what you have bought and paid for. Whatever you do... do not look away."
His eyes meet mine, confusion and fear warring across his tired, handsome features, darkening his eyes. The storm begins to grow even as the skies outside lighten. His eyes grow wide as I drop the sheet I have wrapped around me. Wider still as I turn to reveal the wings, shimmering white and downy soft, protruding from my back, nearly brushing the floor. The look he gives me clearly screams there is no way he didn't notice. I shake my head and raise a finger to my lips, smiling sadly as the first of the feathers falls to the ground, taking with it my immortality. He cries out, crystalline tears cascading down his cheeks as he moves to gather the feathers I am now shedding in earnest. They disintegrate in his hands, making me mortal. He looks at me, wonder riding the horror in his eyes, watching the snowfall of my immortality shed like the leaves falling from the trees outside his home. Before I can stop him, he speaks.
"Why? Why would you do this? How could you do this?"
I lean forward, allowing my pain and exhaustion to carry me, and press my lips to his as I slump into his arms. He instinctively wraps me in his embrace, hands coming in contact with wing-free, healed skin. The transformation is complete. My eyes remain timeworn and train on his face as he pulls me closer, enveloping me in his heat, shielding me from the last of the pain. My hand is trembling as I brush his hair back off his forehead. In a voice as ancient as my eyes, I reply.
"It's simple, really. I fell... for you."
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