Sneaky sneaky, lost and found, beware the porn...

She remembered the power of touch, of human contact. Once there were moments of warmth, of desire, but one by one they were lost to the wind like dust. Her need, sharp and sparkling, had been worn and faded from the passage of time. Lost to her, piece by piece.

His fingers trailing down her arm were a shock, like raindrops on parched earth. His kisses were the storm, sudden and insistent, and his touch drenched her with desire. She clung to him, finding herself again at twined fingers, pressed lips, skin on skin. She came, and she came back.

this Jane Austen Action Figure

Oooh, must have!

She came, and she came back.

That's a gorgeous, gorgeous line.

Porny and poignant, nice combo!

New drabble topic!

Challenge #86 (lost and found) is now closed.

Challenge #87 is a "scene" drabble (along the lines of "two people, seated across from each other at a table"): two people, running.

No Logan's Run jokes, for the love of all that's holy....

On a roll! Sweet! Where was this when I was trying to do NaNoWriMo... It's not really a "scene," I guess, but this is what came out when I thought of running.

“Why does everything have to change?”

She trips on his words. Three months ago he was saying “We can’t do this anymore. I can’t handle it. You’ll feel better if you go.”

They had run together forever, rhythm blending like two heartbeats. But he always pulled ahead, too fast for her, chasing dreams that were never enough. Then he’d fall back, pulling her back to the rhythm every time.

He’s falling again, yearning to resonate. But her pace is different, lonely and steady. Their steps only echo past roads, not new paths.

She can’t answer. She’s running for her life.

This is sort of the literary equivalent of going to bed in your boyfriend's shirt, I suppose. These are George's people, not mine, except the offscreen Miss Nadine

Terry Quinn hadn’t huffed and puffed this hard since he and Juana said “Adios.” Despite the fact that Strange had years on him, only a faint sheen of sweat showed that this was anything but a friendly jaunt through Rock Creek Park.

”Fuck,” Quinn said. “I’m too old for this shit.”
Strange slowed up, but he gave his friend a reproachful look.

“What?” Quinn snapped. “I gave myself the Danny Glover line.”

“Yeah,” Strange said, “And a finer cliche has never been spoken, man. Seriously. But you’re falling apart, and it makes me sad to see it. What did you think you were gonna do? Snark that purse thief to death?”

Terry stopped, wiped his brow, and hoped his heart would stop hammering soon. “Just for that, you don’t get to give the eulogy...Miss Nadine is my neighbor, and a real class act. She’s also...”

“Blacker than me. And that boy you shot.”

“Yeah... so?” It was just like they said in high school. Play through the pain, and everything would be fine.

“So, do you think one more white boy with a heart attack is gonna equalize hundreds of years of racial oppression? Cause Miss Nadine told you herself there wasn’t but thirty dollars in that old purse anyway.”

“If I could, I would, Derek. You know that.”

“Yeah.” Strange replied. “I know it.”

“ I guess I did make an idiot out of myself today...”

”Just let me know,next time you wanna play White Avenger. I’ll have Janine make you a little cape.”

“Fuck you, Strange.”

And, just as Strange predicted, Terry Quinn made his way out of the park without even breathing hard.

Hey, I just saw Kristen's piece on her student letters in my new English Journal!

I was all "Hey, I totally know her! I've read that!"

woo and hoo, on the actual publication of your piece!

Priorities

"Shit!"

Not sure which cat brought it indoors. I suspect Tekla; Pig hunts exclusively things with fur, and Fluff just sits around being Persian. My Siamese? She hunts, and catches, and usually kills and eats.

"Gordon Bennett!"

The damned thing circles, just under the skylight. It's magnificent, if you like bats. I do, but not indoors; N's afraid of them.

I take the wrought-iron stairs, fast. "Um, honey? Little help?!?"

Crash! Pig. He's jumped after it; now he's yowling, maybe in pain.

I'm left in a cloud of dust as N passes me. After all, that's his cat that yelled.

drabble

I saw you today. And not ten minutes before, I was thinking, "Hey, I think I'm finally getting over it."

I'm not.

We used to travel together, until the day you turned to me and said, "No, I can't bear to be around you anymore."

Thing is, we still run in the same circles. Of course we'll intersect. But I'm no longer allowed to be the person who ran at your side.

When I see you, do you see me? Or do you keep your eyes in front of you, intent on the trail that I can't travel anymore?