This week, I have a writing challenge for you…
The Ferrari stopped and the tinted window opened to reveal…
Write a story or a poem, using the above as the first line.
You can also link a photo or a series of photos.
These are the guidelines…
Stories should be a minimum of 500 words with a maximum of 1000 words.
Poems should have rhythm and rhyme.
Photos or a series of photos should ‘tell’ a story that fits the prompt.
I took a slight liberty with the opening sentence, so that it could follow on from my previous entry. You can read Part 1 here.
Through Glass – Part 2
Before I could turn the key I heard the screech of brakes, turning to the road I forgot about my keys. The Ferrari stopped and the tinted window opened to reveal a women with black hair. She leaned towards the window and the street light caught the bright red of her lips.
“Hi, I’m looking for 221. Supposed to be meeting my boyfriend there.”
I step to the side so she can see the house number, “You found it.” I can’t stop myself from glancing up at the window, and she follows my gaze. They’re still silhouetted in the window but I can tell they’re no longer naked. She makes a small noise, and the window rolls up. I wonder if she’s going to drive away but she pulls the car into the driveway, switching off the engine and climbing out, she pauses to retrieve something before closing the door.
I watch as she comes around the car. She’s barefoot; her nails painted the same fire engine red as her lips. She holds a pair of shoes in her hand, when she gets close to me she stops, “Would you mind?” She rests a hand on my arm as she slips first one foot then the other into the strappy black heels. With them on she’s still good twelve inches shorter than me. Smiling down at her, I notice the waist tie on her dress is loose and I can see more than just a flash of cleavage. The red lace of her bra is just about covering her nipples, and pushing her tits together. I want to reach out and touch her; to run my finger along the edge of the lace, teasing her, to trace around her nipple until it peaks, then bend my head to suck it through the lace. I become aware of her watching me, and realise I have been staring at her chest.
I consider apologising as she steps back but she eyes me; her gaze running from my face down to my feet, pausing on the erection straining the fly on my jeans, and she smiles at me; a slow smile that starts at one side and stretches across her face, and I forget what I was going to say. Looking me in the eye, she bites her lip as she reaches out a hand, her fingers brush over my crotch, not quite grasping, not quite stroking. I moan and bend my head, placing my lips on hers. I wrap an arm around her waist, grabbing her arse and pulling her against me. Her hand is between us, her palm flat against my hard cock, and as I deepen the kiss she slides it up and down, and gently squeezes. Her other hand has snaked up to cup the back of my head, rubbing over the prickle of short hair, drawing patterns with her fingertips.
She’s just popped the top button of my fly when we hear the door open, my keys jangling in the lock. We turn to the house where they’re standing framed in the doorway; he’s wearing only his trousers, and my wife has on his shirt, just his shirt.
She frowns, “You’re late.”
“I was on time. You were busy.” I turn to the woman beside me, “I think you’ve met my wife?”
“Of course.” She steps away from me and walks over to Colleen, kissing her she says, “It’s good to see you again.”
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