55 Fiction: I’ll Make You Smile Some Days

I want to tear open the sky with my hands.  I’ll spill the rain from above to watch you through its curtain.  I’ll weigh you down with wetness and I’ll soak your skin.

Close your eyes so you can feel it.  Open your mouth so you can taste it.

You’re only happy when it rains.

Alone In A Car

She sang me a song last night.  She sang me a song on my drive home.  It was late and the night was full and long.  She was stretched out in her bed, the blankets were half on her and the heat was turned up, because the darkness breathed cold air and there was nobody to snuggle up against.

She wasn’t asleep yet, but the winds were blowing her there.  She always slept naked and the sheets got to snuggle up against the lucky parts of her.

“I’m tired but I’ll be there soon, you in bed or no?”  I asked.

“I am, but I’m here.  Talk to me,” she replied.

“I don’t have much to say.  I just wanted to let you know.”

“Mmhmm, talk to me anyways so I don’t fall asleep before you get here.”

“Well its dark.”

“It always is at night.”

“Funny how that works.  Yeah, dark.  Nobody is on the road.  I’m glad because the headlights make my eyes heavy when they come at me.  I hate that.”

“Yeah?”  Her voice sounded tired, like she had just woken up.  She assured me she wasn’t asleep yet though.

“Yeah.  You can go back to sleep.  I won’t be long.”

There was silence.  I knew her enough that I knew she was shaking her head from side to side as if I could see her.  There was a long pause between us both.  I passed a number of trees and a few exits.  Three or five minutes worth of exits.  All I could hear was her steady breathing.

“You asleep?”  I asked quietly.

She responded with a, “nuh uh,” and let more silence fill the space between us.

The country was a hard place to drive because the street lights were far and few between.  I constantly had to check to see if my headlights were on because it seemed to dark when the moon wasn’t shining free in the sky.
She had to have a place in the country though.  She liked the city but only for playing.  The country was where she wanted to live.  Seclusion with a twist, she called it.  Long drives were meant for talking and peaceful silences, she told me.  1 am was a long time to wait on the way home though.

“It wasn’t worth it at the time but it would be when it was over,” she always said the most confusing things.  I loved to listen to them though.

“Oh pretty baby, you know how I like it that way.  Oh pretty darlin’, you always kiss me when I wake,” she started singing softly on the other end of the line to break the silence.

“You know how to love me and my wild mind.  I make you crazy but you always let me shine.  Drive through the dark to find me and keep your eyes sharp.  The roads getting heavy but your eyes won’t miss their mark.”

Her voice was soft and barely awake.  It wasn’t a whisper but there was some volume she was holding back.  It fit the night and it entranced me.  I had never heard the words before but they sounded as old as Greece.  I don’t know if she was making the song up on the spot or if it was something I just hadn’t heard yet.

“I’m here waiting, lying in your bed.  The sheets half off me and I need my hunger fed.  Oh pretty baby maybe you can speed just a little.  Oh pretty darlin’, my body is hoping you will.”

Then there was near silence.  It was accompanied by her soft but heavy breaths.  They were rhythmic and consistent.  I dared not break them and listened intently for an indeterminable amount of time until she smacked her lips without purpose and asked, “where are you now, baby?”

I blinked back into consciousness and realized I had been on auto-pilot and was nearly at our road.

“I’m almost there.  Turning down the drive now.”

“I hear you.  Hurry.  Feed the cats then come here.”

“Mmhmm, wait for me.”

“I will, baby,” she let out a soft moan as she clicked the phone off.



When I write for you I feel invincible, but that only lasts as long as it takes to finish.  Then comes the apprehension of my finger hovering over the button to click send.

Should I?
Shouldn’t I?

I take a deep breath and hold.

Now comes the waiting.  My invincibility is gone and I’m surrounded by weakness and inadequacy.  I’m terrible.  I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said I would do that for you.  I didn’t edit it so please take that into account.  The words I wrote for you felt so strong when they leaped from my fingers to the screen and now they are not even close to good enough for you.

Never once did you return a negative word.  I could easily say you were just being nice but then you’d ask for more.  Again and again.  You’d be excited to read what I wrote for you and would edge me on to continue.  I’d considered quitting my job and spending hours a day holed up in a room with a small window for light as I wrote for you.  You drove me into madness and I spilled that insanity onto the screen.  I handed it back to you with my heart and you kissed it every time.

I love you.  It’s the only way I could write like that for anyone, by being in love with them.

I would write for you until the end of time.  I would make your character iconic.  The sexual dynamo that would be the envy of all.  The girl would become synonymous with sexy, smart and silent.  You’d be a pop culture phenomenon.
I want to write tomes dedicated to you.  Books of poetry with your name scrawled across the front.  Series of literature focused on you.  The Dulcinea of my life.  I will sally forth in search of adventure to claim it in your name.

Everything I do is for you because of the way you make me feel while I’m doing it.  I hope some day I can give that feeling to you.  It’s such an incredible high I want you to be able to experience it.


There is a night-you.  And there is a day-you.  The two yous aren’t the same though and I think I need you both.

You’ll never meet.  You’ll only hear about each other in stories and anecdotes I tell.  I’ll try my best to refrain from speaking of the other as I know its not easy to hear of someone else and how I love them.  But I need you both for the equal sides of me and how they fit with you.

You here, the night-you, are of sparkling eyes and midnight hair.  The quiet peace of your expression calms my hurried soul and we spend dusk til dawn exploring our torrid minds.  You refocus my energy onto you.  Your moonlight beams into my depth.  The sunrise always comes too early.
We make about as if we’re alone in the world.  The darkness settles and we are.  What better way to experience the dark then through whispers against my ear with no sight and touch on my neck with your hands.  The sensation of you in the blackened night is silence broken with sounds of breathing.  Soft whispers connected by a set of fingered words, no more.  Let the sound of nothing be our lead.
This can be our always.  Each night enjoyed similarly in simplicity.  A light when needed to listen to your voice as you read aloud and your fingers stroke lazily through my hair.  The sound of the page flipping louder than anything in the world we’ve made here.  Ambient noise of forks on plates and glasses touching more than the words we share because a look from you is all I need to know whatever it is you need.

But the sun does rise and we cannot stop it.  I am not a single entity with a straight path.  As much as you can pull me in my excitement cannot be held from the sun and its shining.  My calm can be long while letting the rest slumber, but it will wake and will feast in the light.  In these times I need the day-you.
The day-you is not you and she is someone different.  She does not hold your same stare and sensual nature.  She does not have your eyes or your body, nor does she hold my lust the way you do.  I think I may need her almost just as much though.
She does not calm me the way you do.  She even heightens my mania and not in a way that is destructive.  I run rampant down her halls and spill the contents of my mind as she looks on in amazed wonder.
The day-you attempts to keep up.  She is wild at nature and tosses similarly peculiar thoughts about to volley between us.  The hype climbs at a fevered pace and when it reaches its peak it has nowhere to go.  It crashes.  I crash.  I need someone to squeeze and hold and calm me.  I need to be brought back down.  In these times I need the night-you.  I can never go without the night-you.

These two yous aren’t the same and never can be, I don’t think.  I need you both to have all of me and all of me needs you both.  The night-you and the day-you.  I wish it were just one you to lose 24 hours at a time with.  The sun’s rise and fall never mattering.  In your arms and your gaze held still through the dawn and dusk.

55 Fiction: I Spent All My Money On You

Cheap thrills hold a special place in my heart.  Too many people toss them off as disposable feelings you have to peel off as if they were a spent rubber glove.  Anything that can put that look on your face when you look at me can be called whatever it wants, just don’t look away.

55 Fiction: Beautiful Girl

You’re the kind of beautiful that needs an amount of recovery to get over when gone.  Black dress against peach skin.  Dark hair held up by magic, lips shining red.  I caught a glimpse of you but my eyes were captured.  Held hostage.

Beautiful girl, keep looking as you do.  You can make someone’s day.

Something When I Shiver

You know what I miss most about the summer?  Watching the sweat drip down your neck then disappear below a spaghetti strap tank top hugging your chest.  The way your hand drags across your forehead, the sweat pulling with it.
Would I be too forward in asking to have the honor next time?

That drip though.  The slow, darting path it takes downward along the front of your neck.  Disappearing into other beads of sweat and strengthening on its stuttered determination.
I’d like to press my finger in its way and have it pool on my tip.

Or, really, I would just want to kiss you again in the summer’s heat.  Remembering a random moment from while the humid air kept us in its clutches no matter where we hid.  The cold is setting in and all I want is to know your bodies sweat again as we peeled off our clothes and pressed into each other.  My lips would find your ears as our skin met in the rising temperature.

Then I’d whisper a tune in your ear and let it sing around inside.  I’ll not try to gauge your reaction and let it just come as it does.  I like when you surprise me.
Surprise me.

Honey lips, honey eyes
honey spread on my demise.
Hair of corn, colored canary
in my face, beneath I’m buried.
Skin of silk, smooth to touch
wandering hands moved to lust.
You make me weak you make me high
with your heart I beg to die.

Excerpt From Nothing: Squeeze

Her lips were like velvet on my skin.  They grazed softly along the back of my jaw while making their way to my ear.  She teased better than a fourth grade bully.  Instead of speaking words in a whispered tone she let out a long, slow exhale of her heated breath.  It spiraled down and tickled the hairs on the back of my neck.  I could feel her smile as I shivered.

“You’re gonna get it,” I muttered with my eyes closed and my body weak.
“Am I?”  She responded before suckling my earlobe into her mouth.

I dropped my mouth open and let out an oh-my-god groan.  My hands grasped her ribs, high up under her arms and dug in.  My eyes opened to attention and I turned my head towards her, breaking the suckle on my earlobe and she pulled back to look down at me.

“Something wrong?”  She asked coyly.

I didn’t answer, at least not with words.  I merely stared at her for a few seconds.  Her nearly naked body as she sat on top of me.  Her dark hair having tumbled down to her shoulders.  The way her smile was daring me to do something back to her as if this was all a ruse to push me into action.
She did that a lot.  Fucking with my need to always be right or simply just pressing buttons to see what reaction she’ll get.  I loved it.  I’ve only known her a few weeks but she seems to do everything perfect.  Leaving me questioning her motives but knowing they are only with good intentions.  Pausing with a smile and her smiling back, knowing she’s hooked me again and I don’t even care.
So I fall for it, again.  I take a gaze at her sexuality and spin her in a growling thump onto her back.  Flipping our positions and her head on the pillow and my body between her legs.  My lips find her ear now.  The vibrations in my voice sound like hunger.  They shake down through her ear as I speak.

“Lock your legs around my waist.  Squeeze.  Don’t stop.  Not until I’m begging for mercy.  Use your thighs like a walnut cracker.”

She then turned her head into mine like I did to her moments earlier.  We looked in each others eyes and she smiled her sly grin again as I felt her legs rising.  She mouthed the words, “kiss me,” as her ankles hooked together around my back.  As our lips met in a kiss I felt her thighs tighten firmly and smiled against her mouth.
It was a cute attempt.  I don’t know if she wasn’t going full on by choice or if she thought she was going to get me to break fairly easy.  Either way, when my lips needed a moment to breathe I opened my eyes and smiled against her kiss, not wanting to fully part from the velvet.

“I sure hope that isn’t all you’ve got, blue,” smiling at her because I can’t ever stop and then flowing right into a movie quote in a horrible impersonation of Jack Nicholson.

” Please tell me you have something more, Lieutenant.  These two marines are on trial for their lives.  Please tell me that their lawyer hasn’t pinned their hopes to a phone bill.”

Grinning at her afterwards, wondering if she gets the reference.  Looking into her eyes to see if she’s trying to place it or just fucking with me again.  Waiting a few seconds and then turning my attention to her hands.  Finding each of them and lacing my fingers with hers, pinning them to the bed and giving my hips a thrust into her.

“Excuse Me.  I didn’t dismiss you,” she quickly says as I push against her body.

“I beg your pardon?”  I look back into her face with another smile.

“I’m not finished my examination.  Sit down.”
Upon the last word falling off of her lips and the blue in her eyes tightening on the blue in mine I can feel the force of her thighs squeezing me.  Her fingers tightening their grip on my hands in return.  Her lip being bitten as either a form of enticement for me or concentration and force for herself.  It might be a little bit of both actually.  Then, a thrust upwards of her hips into mine and a slight twist and jerk.  My back caving for half of a second and dropping down into her.  Her movement pulling a groan from my throat and my entire body quaking.

She continues to squeeze.  We keep eye contact.  She’s winning.  My eyes are rolling into the back of my head until a rush of heat burns through my veins.  She adds a grunting moan to her squeeze and twists the other direction.  The movements push everything right into place.  My eyes flare into hers.  My hands squeeze back against hers and press down into the bed.  She squeezes harder but all it does is move me into her with more strength.
She tries.  On and on she tries to regain her edge.  Lifting herself almost right up against me and lighting the muscles from her knees to her stomach on fire.  I watch as her mouth drops open in one last attempt to make me collapse into her.
She’s cutting off my breathing.  Each suck for air being depleted more and more.  Neither of us giving in until the moment where we can’t go any further and she drops to the bed.
The feeling of her legs loosening has me following her.  My body suddenly feeling less comfortable.  In need of those legs tightly around me.  Naked without them.  My lips kissing hers hungrily as she lay there, her legs now like jelly and unable to move without effort.

I kiss her, again and again.  She’s panting along with my kisses.  Our breath cascading along each others skin.  Her face sweating and she looks up at me, eyes barely open and she smiles.  I smile back at her and finish the movie reference.

“What do you want to discuss now, my favorite color?”

A wide smile paints across her face and I dive into it, kissing and rolling next to her on the bed.  Enveloping each other in our arms and carrying on like the day doesn’t have to continue outside of this room.

55 Fiction: Written Beauty

She’s a poem.  All women are poems.  Past, present and future.  Some rhyme and hold a direct structure and rhythm.  Others are as wild as their hair caught in the wind.   But they’re all beautiful in their own way.  A drop of water from a melting ice cube on a hot day.  Beautiful and irresistible.