“Oh I don’t know where it is, Jane. You put the body there last time.”
Challenge: Tell a story in one short dialogue chunkette.
The World and Writing of Rosie D. Ruthers from Erotica to Paranormal Romance to Pulp fiction and Essays on Writing and More.
“Oh I don’t know where it is, Jane. You put the body there last time.”
Challenge: Tell a story in one short dialogue chunkette.
Churning emotions bubble forth,
Too much silence in the noise,
Everything stark,
Colorful only because of yearning,
Pulses pounding turns to pressure building,
Thudding, laughing, with the beat of blood,
And the heat that pierces through much and mud,
Leaving him and I and us together,
Alone,
Then together,
Breaths speeding in unison,
Bright red, yellow like wheat, and black like ravens,
With that subtle sort of blue that highlights the dark,
As scream through our hearts,
As the crowd listens.
As the sweat stains sheets and clothes and sofas,
As they laugh.
As they die.
Everything stark in perfect clarity,
Super heightened superficiality,
Fuck it and enjoy it.
Means everything, but ignore it when
The Light Comes Up And
The city is full of empty noise,
But for a moment there is an excited silence between,
Lovers…between…enemies…between breaths.
The spaces between the pulses.
The spaces between the buildings.
The silence between the screams.
So What Is The Difference between Love and Hate?
“One…”
K.K would be strong. She could take it.
“Two…”
Gin was right there with her, going through the same thing. She wasn’t alone and that comforted her more than anything else.
“Three!”
A pause labored in the room as a swoosh of air went up her back then the feeling reversed. Two almost simultaneous cracks echoed through the room like fireworks, making her jump. Just as quickly she felt the harsh bite of the whip’s tail against her back like a cobra bite. The pain spread out like venom, at first it was numb giving a second of hope before the sharp burn set in. With every second it deepened and spread. It took K.K a moment to realize the sharp scream was her own, and though she did feel a bit embarrassed about it she was mostly consumed by the pain. Shit. Shit. Shit.
“How’d it feel?”
“Fuckin’ hurt, sir!”K.K loudly blurted out.
Most of the room lapsed into laughter at how blunt it was, but K.K was only being honest. At least she remembered to say “sir”.
“Ha, such a naughty mouth. Warrants more punishment doesn’t it Master Jon?”
“Most definitely”
Concrete.
Smoking as ash dusts over its surface.
Lacking a human touch.
Too afraid to breathe.
Too afraid to run.
Undead earth.
“Fuck”.
The only words in the apartment as they rut like animals.
Grunting, screaming, moaning.
The wet needing openness of lust,
fills with every loving thrust.
Another kisses her mouth,
He grabs her hair and lifts.
From her to his lips.
From her to her to him.
The lonely three in a concrete city,
Finding solace in each other as
fingers find soft and yearning sacred grounds and,
Tantalizing brown and white and red flesh,
She counts the bruises on her neck.
He counts the scars on her shoulders.
She simply screams beneath them both.
Their love is not some ephemeral thing.
Not some weird toy.
Not some sinful thing.
It is simply one thing in a maze of concrete,
And empty houses next to empty homes.
“‘This wasn’t planned’. That wasn’t true. It was planned but Lita never imagined it could go this far.”
Offered a chance to explore her deepest and darkest fantasies with her most trusted friend, the confident and handsome if somewhat unpredictable Jon, Lita finds herself submitting to things she could never imagine. However a world of self-consciousness has held her back for so long that going through with it may be harder than she ever imagined. This only gets harder when she realizes Jon’s love is as intense as his dominant side. Love and lust can be frightening things, but anyone worth their salt knows one is far easier than the other. Will she succumb to her fears of the unknown, or surrender to the wiles of love, passion, and the depths of submission?
A Lita Loves Tale. In fact this is the first of this realistic and sensual series!
The Lita Loves Tales are an erotic fiction series for a mature audience. White Hot Room features rough intimate scenes of bondage, spanking, flogging, curvaceous women, male domination and female submission. The Lita Loves Tales proudly proclaims to be a series with interracial romance and intercourse without any odd racializing found in other stories. Sensual, hot, and tinged with Miss Ruthers desire to capture the complexities of sex and intimacy White Hot Room promises to bring something new to e-readers everywhere.
One thing was certain about Lita and that was nothing was 100% certain with her. Her father used to tell people that the “2.99% of uncertainty will get you if you aren’t careful”. Though she liked her comfortable life and usual routine, something in her always managed to surprise people…even herself. Still every single inch of her was no better than a pile of nerves in that hallway despite the fact that deep down she yearned for Jon to take her to another level; another level that lined up with odd thoughts that always lurked in her dirty mind and made her feel not just good, but like living fire and also the calmest ocean. Tonight came as one of those little astonishing circumstances, one of those little moments that fell under the 2.99%. Lita hoped things would go smoothly, but they hadn’t even started and fear glued her in place. So much remained unknown and could only be known by exploration. That gave way to anticipation which meant nerves and hesitation. With every ounce of trepidation that resounded inside her as she looked at Jon there was this grand sort of rush building in her stomach. Nerves. Part of her liked the nerves even as another part of her felt like fleeing. This moment would never come around again. These nerves. These sensations. These thoughts. All of it made for a powerful part of the game they were going to play, and she had to play it. She said she would and she knew if she didn’t she’d regret it for the rest of her life.
Something told her she had to savor everything rolling around inside her, and that meant, in their mutual silence, reminding herself that sex didn’t get them there.
This game always seemed to be about sex, but it was so much more intimate if it was done right. He told her that “I don’t just play with anyone…I can, but it’s not the same, but I’d like to try with you,” but he didn’t seem to believe she’d say yes that night. There in the hall the joyous look in his eyes remained tempered by the sort of nervousness she’d only seen him have when their friends kept hinting at getting him an ‘epic’ birthday present despite their funds. He didn’t want to get his hopes up and yet…hope was there lurking around in his eyes. Still he remained composed, watching her, meeting her gaze with his own.
“I worried you would choose…not this.” He motioned to himself and then from his back pocket pulled something out. A split second later Jon held up a dangling patent red collar. The glimmer of light reflecting off the shinnying faux leather made her heart skip. “Or this.”