Good news to be shared!

You all know I entered a Flash! Friday competition last week? Well, I got first runner-up!

http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/flash-friday-vol-2-24-winners/

Alyssa Leonard (http://www.alissaleonard.blogspot.co.uk/) wrote:

Mark Morris, “Paid in Full.” Wow. This one knocked my socks off! The idea that the aliens would pay off your overdue bills is an amazingly fascinating concept – completely unique and enjoyable. I am dying to know the consequences for putting more than one bill in there per month… Please? :) And yeah, the catch. It seems like such a reasonable question… That last line floored me. Seriously. Then my mind FILLED with questions: These people seemed like friends: were they? Did he seriously just sell out his friend? Does he find random people and convince them to go with him? And, really, what kind of person values a person’s life as less than one overdue bill for internet??? Mind: Blown. 

SO, I'm well pleased with that. Thank you so much, Alyssa. :)

If you didn't catch it then, here's another chance to read it. And thank you for visiting! 


Paid in Full

Bruce shook his head. “Next you'll be telling me there's a tooth fairy.”

“Honest, it's true. I'll prove it.” Reaching into my inner jacket pocket, I pulled out a utility bill. A final demand typed in red, threatening imminent disconnection of my internet services and further additional charges to be paid. Due today.

“And you just put your unpaid bill in the box and aliens pay it?”

“Exactly that. One every month. No more than that or else there's consequences.” I slotted the bill in the box, waited for the actinic flare and then drew it out again. “Look,” I said, “Paid in full. Written in large green letters.”

“So why isn't everyone doing this? There has to be a catch.” My friend looked at me sceptically, still not believing.

“There is,” I began, hesitantly, ”a qualifier. You have to always bring someone for them to abduct...” 

Here's another flash fiction entry... I'm on fire. Wish me luck folks!

http://ireadencyclopedias.wordpress.com/2014/05/25/what-will-you-write-1-neptune/

Conrad opened his eyes to a view of a massive blue globe.  He jerked back and twisted around in the micro-gravity.  He touched something solid in front of him.  A window.

He pushed against the window and turned around.  Conrad scanned the small room, no larger than a public bathroom stall, and empty except for an EV spacesuit and door.  He studied the view through the window.  Neptune, he thought.  How did I get here?

But then, there were other pressing matters. Ones even more important. Like how was he going to get out?

The obvious way was through the doorway. The huge armoured doorway with the coded lock and the rubberised door-seal. Only, surely that door was going to open out into space, but… yes. Yes, he’d got a suit. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do once he escaped but he'd definitely got a way out.

Fortunately, he wasn’t a stranger to EV suits. He’d been born on a traders’ station orbiting Io and had built up more time in a suit than most Fleet pilots ever amassed in the whole of their highly stressed but brief careers in space. Poor little souls. He grinned, thinking of all the times he’d spent intercepting colonists’ flitters as they threaded their way through the Jovian system's moons. Space was large and out here in the outer reaches of the solar system, the Fleet's steadying influence was almost as weak as the micro-gravity he was experiencing here now.

But at least they’d left him a suit.

Checking his diaper-like maximum absorbency garment and liquid-cooled singlet were all in good order, he checked the suit’s comms and powered systems with a quick, practised eye, confirming he’d got at least 6 hours’ charge of battery and oxygen before sliding into the suit’s womb-like grip. Then, shrugging himself into the upper section, he quickly ran through his seals’ check. Waist: green; arms and gloves (outer and inner): green; legs and mag-secure boots; green. All he needed now was his helmet and he was good to go.

Good to go and to see what waited for him outside.

Conrad punched in the code - 361965 - on the over-sized key-pad, sighing in relief when the door slid in and then aside to let him through. The date taken from Edward Higgins White II’s first self-powered EVA on June 3rd 1965, giving rise to the access code used by all Fleet commissioning engineers everywhere. God bless them all. He donned his helmet and waited for the cycle to complete.

---------------------------------------------

The drop-box’s outer hatch had just thudded back into its seals' bed, the ‘cycle-complete’ indicator turning green, when Conrad’s comm-unit suddenly came to life, spraying a burst of static into his ears. Resolving into a voice he knew. The weaselly tones of Jean-Pascal Berlotti; head of the local Fleet/Mafia justice department.

“Hello, Mr Conrad,” he oozed. “I’m so pleased you've woken up from your slumbers. It makes my arrangements for you so much more satisfying this way.”

Suddenly, the suit’s integrity warning light started flashing as the seams at the rear began to split open, the pressure differential peeling the jury-rigged material repairs apart.

“You may have noticed that your suit’s sprung a bit of a leak,” Berlotti continued, gloating. “But don’t worry, it’s not the first time I’ve seen Uranus in retrograde around Neptune…”

(My entry into this weeks Flash! Friday blog competition.) 

http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2014/05/23/flash-friday-vol-2-24/)

I hope you enjoy it...



Paid in Full.


Bruce shook his head. “Next you'll be telling me there's a tooth fairy.”

“Honest, it's true. I'll prove it.” Reaching into my inner jacket pocket, I pulled out a utility bill. A final demand typed in red, threatening imminent disconnection of my internet services and further additional charges to be paid. Due today.

“And you just put your unpaid bill in the box and aliens pay it?”

“Exactly that. One every month. No more than that or else there's consequences.” I slotted the bill in the box, waited for the actinic flare and then drew it out again. “Look,” I said, “Paid in full. Written in large green letters.”
“So why isn't everyone doing this? There has to be a catch.” My friend looked at me sceptically, still not believing.

“There is,” I began, hesitantly, ”a qualifier. You have to always bring someone for them to abduct...” 

Awakening; a try out opening for a potential novella

Erin awoke.  The room was dark and quiet and there was an odd funky smell that seemed like something wasn't quite right somewhere. Pushing the sheets away from her, she wrinkled her nose, identifying the smell instantly.

Turning to the man beside her in her bed, she patted his cheek lovingly.  "You're gonna need to get a wash right soon, my love.  You smell a little ripe right now."  Sitting and then rising to her feet, she padded across the room and disappeared into the bathroom.

David lay motionless in the bed a while, just waiting for her to return.  He was infinitely patient and his life revolved about Erin.  Her warmth.  Her energy.  Her vitality.  They were all he needed. All he'd ever need.  

Erin peered around the doorway, smiling at her lover.  "I'm ready to go again, I think.  Just give me a few minutes to make myself ready."  She dug into the pocket of her housecoat and pulled out a box of matches, lighting each of the black candles in turn.  One at the top of the bedhead, to the right and then two more at the foot of the bed.  And then another on the bedhead on David's side.  She smiled, composing herself to begin.  "In the name of Hecate," she began, slipping off her coat. "May my purpose be blessed." She genuflected and then gave a deep sigh, donating the air from her lungs to the goddess.  "In the name of Hecate, may my spell be strong," she continued, wiping the sweat from her brow and then transferring it to David's.  She genuflected again and then rounded the bed once more, picking up the knife on her night table and drawing it smoothly across her wrist.  "In the name of Hecate; Queen of Heaven, Queen of Hell, Queen of Witches, may my purpose be accomplished."  She squeezed the wound and then pulled it quickly across his lips, standing back as she waited for him to stir again.

The cold body of her dead lover lay motionless for a long minute before the incantation and the gifts took effect.  At first the only movement was the slight writhing of the fingers on one hand but soon the whole hand began to clench and unclench in a uncoordinated spastic motion as though reaching for another hand. Erin's grim face cracked into a smile.  "Welcome back my love," she said, kneeling astride his dead body and waiting for the rigor to pass.

Extract from 'Glory; an outtake from a work in progress'

Glory dropped the book, already knowing the storyline intimately through avid reading and re-reading of the words that were almost scarred into her memories.  The skin on her breasts tightened and her nipples stood erect against the sheerness of her nightgown. The aching in her lower stomach began to twist a little tighter and secretions began to pool and stir within her sex, her void needing to be filled again and again and again. Reaching across and down, she began to stoke her lower lips tantalisingly as though it were École beginning his teasing and torturing on her instead of on Genievre, beginning that slow burn of desire that was due to grow deeper and hotter and more and more urgent.

Glory's fingers pushed harder against her wetness, three fingers clenched tightly together, being gratefully received as she relaxed her muscles to ease their entry, feeling both the slide and glide of her skin and her knuckles as they rubbed against her softness but also the sense of her own contractions as she quivered and roiled against her hand.  The rings on her fingers felt cool against her gripping and the ridges they formed pulled deliciously up and down and up and down and up and down.  Moaning as though already being pulled inside out from within, Glory began to tighten onto herself, feeling the heat and the sensitivity ramping up and up and up.

Glory - outtake from a work in progress
Glory woke in the middle of the night.  Looking at her alarm clock, she saw the time - 04:13 - and grimaced. Hours and hours until morning and every chance that she'd never get to sleep again.  Ugh. Picking up her tv remote, she flipped through at least thirty channels before giving it up. Nothing! Fuck that, she thought, throwing the remote down in disgust.

Rolling across to reach into her night-table, she pulled the uppermost drawer open, taking out a well-thumbed copy of Morris' erotic classic "The Caged Tigress,' she turned up the lights and began to read:

'Genievre closed her eyes behind the binding that encircled her brow, concentrating on His breath. 

École's soft steps were soundless; his stockinged feet sliding first on the polished wood flooring and then padding across the woollen rug.  His chest began to burn with the self-imposed torture he'd chosen to suffer, heightening his anticipation of the delicious cruelties that were soon to follow.  He smiled, savouring his wickedness and the wanton yearnings that bubbled up within his depraved corrupted mind.'

Glory shivered, enjoying the thoughts that began to flood through her mind.  Placing herself on the rough wooden table in the kitchen where Genievre lay bound, she could imagine the chill of the old farm house in the depths of winter and the sensuality of the touch that surely follow.  École's hands would be rough and calloused but hot like scorched and burned wood.  His fingers would be sure and would move without doubt, bringing her promise of pleasures to come. And also pain.

Oestrogen and dopamine began to flood into her blood, heightening her sensitivities.  Glory dropped the book, already knowing the storyline intimately through avid reading and re-reading of the words that were almost scarred into her memories.  The skin on her breasts tightened and her nipples stood erect against the sheerness of her nightgown. The aching in her lower stomach began to twist a little tighter and secretions began to pool and stir within her sex, her void needing to be filled again and again and again.  Reaching across and down, she began to stoke her lower lips tantalisingly as though it were École beginning his teasing and torturing on her instead of on Genievre, beginning that slow burn of desire that was due to grow deeper and hotter and more and more urgent.

Glory's fingers pushed harder against her wetness, three fingers clenched tightly together, being gratefully received as she relaxed her muscles to ease their entry, feeling both the slide and glide of her skin and her knuckles as they rubbed against her softness but also the sense of her own contractions as she quivered and roiled against her hand.  The rings on her fingers felt cool against her gripping and the ridges they formed pulled deliciously up and down and up and down and up and down.  Moaning as though already being pulled inside out from within, Glory began to tighten onto herself, feeling the heat and the sensitivity ramping up and up and up.

The night air stirred and the light curtaining began to float as the breeze began to infiltrate into the room.  Or had it been there before?  The lightest of touches penetrated Glory's gown as, laying on top of the bedclothes, she felt the movement of the air against her.  Now, contracting both outside and in, her skin pulled in on itself even more, amplifying every feeling until the need grew too much to resist.  With one hand pulling at her clothes, she opened herself to the night, offering her body to her own deepest desires.  The other hand twisted and reached down into the cooler bag nestled in the alcove beneath the open drawer, pulling out a long velvet-sheathed object with a weight enough to pull at her wrist as she turned it back toward herself.

The softness of the crimson velvet draw-cord pouch felt slightly damp against her inner thigh. Brushing it lithely against her soft whiteness, it looked and felt like a tongue, lapping across one of her more sensitive areas of skin. She dragged it down toward her knee and then back up again, her hand tightly gripping the coldness of the glass within and the puckering at the top of the sac. Five slow strokes downward and then up stirred her needfulness to a new height and then, on the sixth languid slow journey to her inner knee and back, Glory loosened her grip on the top of the pouch, unsheathing the coldness within and then drawing it all the way back up again to nestle against the moistness of her opening.

Glory craned her neck forward, needing to see what followed.  Her hand pushed upward and the rounded end of the ice-coldness slid inside her, her lips puckering and tightening in on it reflexively as it began to fill her, its presence burning as it warmed itself, stealing the very heat from her core.  The undulations of the dildo pulled and eased away as it slid deeper, her flesh clenching tighter and tighter onto it as she tried to crush it and fully possess it.  Glory's hand began to move, her wrist curling and flexing, pushing and pulling as her stomach tightened and turned more and more onto itself.  He breath began to catch in her lungs as her hand quickened and her skin began to glow hotter and hotter with the heat of the blood coursing faster and faster through her veins.

"Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck meeee!" Her hand moved faster and deeper and began to angle as she  sought that special clump of nerves within her, pumping and pistoning and thrusting as her blood began to hammer against her temples. Driving to the full depth, the knuckle of her thumb extended to grind against her fleshy hood at the bottom of each stroke, with her lower lip gripped between her teeth, she began to pant and yelp like an animal as the blood began to drain from her brain.  Imagining the roughness of the farm labourer's hands on her shoulders, she arched her back and gave herself to the friction and the heat that filled her, her eyelids trembling as her thoughts and feelings collapsed inward until there was nothing but the feeling.

Glory WAS Genievre. Her arms and legs WERE pulled back so tightly so that her hips and shoulders ached with the pull of the rope on her wrists and ankles. And her head and buttocks WERE alternately knocking in pushing against the whitewashed wood of the table as École pounded her like a piece of dough against it.  The Frenchman's breath WAS hot against her ear as he took her mercilessly for his own pleasure, not thinking or caring how it felt for her.  Glory's idle hand reached below the bed as she pulled herself hard against the mattress, her other hand thumping and banging against her mound as the pleasure or pain grew within her, twisting and writhing through her back and shoulders as if travelled downward to gather in a tight knot in her gut.

And then the dam broke.  In that moment every muscle in her body tightened and gripped at itself.  Her back arched until she felt it might break and the Frenchman's manhood stopped it's ceaseless punishment of her vitals as she held it trapped inside her.  Glory then began to fold slowly back in on herself, her used and abused body relaxing and pooling back onto the mattress, spent.  The coolness of the breeze made itself known then, her skin beaded with sweat as her heat began to dissipate into the night.  Still feeling the weight within her, she pulled her freed second hand from beneath the bed, relishing the pull as she withdrew the warm glass from between her legs.

Glory sighed, feeling fulfilled at last.

Things you SHOULD do while naked...

1. Walking in the woods. Obviously, you'd need to keep clear of anything like poison ivy or red ants, but who wouldn't like to be at one with nature in the way that nature intended?

2. Riding a bicycle. Maybe you'd like head protection... stop snickering at the back... but wouldn't it just be cool to cleave through the air with the wind caressing you from head to toe?

3. Baking a cake as a 'to do' with a partner. Even better than that scene in Ghost plus you can eat the goo that you'd end up smearing over each other.

4. Washing the car. Another one best shared but one that could extend to the polishing act as well. Nuff said there, I think.

5. Practising yoga. Even if you're not a Diana or an Adonis, this has to be the hottest thing going. And if it's hot either inside or out, it can be a rather cooling and unencumbering way to get your exercise. And again, if you've got a partner...