If you can speak what you will never hear, if you can write what you will never read, you have done rare things.
~Henry David Thoreau

Sunday, June 12, 2011

It Rolls Around, Then Sits and Stares

Any of you who are writers will have had this experience. A line suddenly pops into your head and you scramble to write it down. A scene forms, choppy at first, but it's a rough draft so who cares? No one will be reading it yet. The writing is going along pretty well and then...it just dies. So you toss it off to the side and hope that it will be useful at a later date.

Fortunately for me, I manage to use most of my little tidbits. But I have one that keeps popping up- and I still haven't used it. Although I might have a home for it soon.

While it sits, patient and lonely, I thought that I would let it's unpolished glory marinate here for a while. Once I am done playing with my zombies, I will come back for her.
"The Arm"

The cold press of mechanized steel forcing me against the rough texture of the wall shocks me-almost as much as it thrills me. The subtly threatening gesture of silver-capped fingertips reaching for my throat makes liquid heat pool in my groin.
My companion's human arm slides to encircle my waist as her mouth tastes the skin over my thundering pulse. My hips thrust imperceptibly and a whimper tumbles from my lips. She laughs and I know how easy I am making this for her, how submissive I become with a simple kiss.
The crimson laces of my walking suit nearly tear under impatient hands, revealing the tattoo emblazoned across my chest. The raven-haired seductress leans forward and whispers hotly into my ear, a thought so obscenely and erotically decadent that all I can do is groan and fight to keep from falling. My hands fumble to find purchase in the bullet-riddled wall when the dark head dips to brush an aching peak.
A sudden wheezing cough separates us from our inappropriate display. An old man stands nearby, his equally ancient food cart tilted slightly under a rusted axle. The tinted goggles over his eyes suggest nothing of his mood, but the crooked grin assures us of his interest. Slowly he begins to move again, the whining grind of poorly-oiled gears reminding me that a grimy alley is not the best place for sex.
“Darling, not here.” I bit back a moan as those skilled hands cupped my breasts familiarly.
“But the doctor said that I could begin using my new arm today.” She emphasized her point, leaning back to watch my face while her fingers lifted my dress. The whisper of clicks and the touch of cool metal told me that she was about to use her mechanical arm on my most vulnerable region.
My eyes closed and a full-body shiver announced my pleasure at her not-so-subtle means of persuasion. I jerked and quaked as she stroked me. Damn that witch. She knows what she does to me. However, I had my own tricks and no compulsion not to use them.
Easily, I cupped the back of her neck and pulled her close. Close enough to rasp my tongue over the delicate shell of her ear. My voice dropped to its lowest register. “Darling, if you take me to bed we will put your arm to uses that the good doctor never intended.”
to be continued......

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