Best Made Plans. . . Part 6 Six Sentence Sunday

So y’all are feeling bad for Rodger? Read on. . . And please make sure to visit other authors’ pages. You can find links at:  Six Sentence Sunday.

“Did you just say I should tell the truth?” Rachel snorted, floored at his nerve.

“Yes, well, do as I say not as I do, and all that. Listen, Rachel. I know I should have told you. . .”

“And besides,” Rachel interrupted, fury creeping into her voice, “sleeping with a married man isn’t exactly the image I wanted to promote.”



Best Made Plans. . . Part 5 Six Sentence Sunday

So sorry I’ve been gone the past few weeks. My Sundays haven’t been the same without my weekly addiction. Some people have church to help find peace and solace. I have the creative six sentences of almost 200 writers! Please make sure to visit other authors’ pages. You can find links at:  Six Sentence Sunday.

Set-up for this week’s snippet: Continuing with a phone call to Rachel from Rodger who’s called to try to do some damage control.

“And?” Rachel seethed, trying to decide if she should hang up the phone, throw it across the room, or just scream obscenities at the jerk.

“And I owe you an apology,” he said.

“You bet you do! Work was awful today–the students kept asking questions.”

“Tell them the truth,” Rodger suggested.



Anyone?

Perusing the Personal Ads on Craigslist today, I came across this gem. Reads like the back of an erotica. For the right woman. . . Although not for me because I don’t meet his height/weight proportions. Sigh. Then there’s the matter of not knowing if I’m a sub or dom (or neither or both) at heart. What are your thoughts?

Tall, good-looking sane & normal Dom seeks sub for ravishing LTR (fairfield / vacaville)


Date: 2012-04-29, 4:12PM PDT
Reply to: nhdm9-2986728679@pers.craigslist.org
Well, you clicked on my headline, which means you’re at least curious, and that’s a good start. I really am what I say: tall (that’s objective), good-looking (or so I’m told), sane (that’s easy enough), and normal (or at least normal-seeming). Add employed, creative, artsy, and athletic and you’ve got me in a nutshell. But it’s you, in a nutshell (well, not literally), that I’m looking for.

But first let me say what I’m looking for.I’m looking for a live in 24/7 thing Someone to help run my home.
I’m much more interested in sensual dominance than pain, though I’m not averse to giving you a sound spanking if you should displease me.

Rather, I envision a relationship between equal partners in the “real world” and, well, in reality. In public I’ll treat you like a lady, and in private I’ll treat you like my slut and toy.

Notice that possessive–my. You’ll belong to me, and you’ll know it, and you’ll like the way that feels–knowing that I can, and will, have you at my whim. That I might at anytime grab a handful of your hair and force you to your knees, or order you to strip solely because I like to look at you.

Everyday won’t be like this, of course, but when we’re alone I will reserve the right to use you as I see fit. An evening in with a DVD becomes so much more interesting when you’re nude beside me, your hands bound behind your back, my fingers so gently stroking between your legs. Brunch with your friends becomes that much more fun when I come in your mouth just before we leave the house and order you not to swallow until we reach the restaurant.

Arms tied above your head, legs spread wide and lashed down to the posts of my bed while I toy with you, nuzzle your neck, lick your cunt until you almost come–these things will be your new reality.

Not your only reality, of course; for, though I might relish living in a gothic castle where I could keep you in chains, the fact is, I live in a beautiful house . and there are times where the thing I most want in the world from my sub is simple everyday companionship.

If you’re an “ordinary” girl with extraordinary desires, a coquette and a cumslut, both the girl and the whore next door, I do hope you’ll be in touch. I’m flexible on age/race, but I do ask that you be height/weight proportionate (and that you tell me what that is). I would love to see a picture, too, though if want to write first, just to test that I’m real, I understand.

So tell me about yourself–what you look like, what you like to do, what you fantasize about. I’m interested, really I am.

Please put “on my knees” in your subject line. That way I’ll know you’re not someone trying to harvest my email address.

Best Made Plans. . . Part 4 Six Sentence Sunday

Thank you for stopping by to read my Six Sentences! I hope you enjoy. Please make sure to visit the other amazingly talented writers participating in Six Sentence Sunday.

Set-up for this week’s snippet: In the middle of the night, Rachel receives a phone call from Rodger who’s called to apologize for the article in the tabloid.

Sleep-addled images swam before her in the dark: Rodger’s muscled chest as he reached to surround her, his delicious lips and strong tongue tasting her throat and shoulders.  Then she remembered the flowers that were not from him. And the humiliation of seeing her face on the front page of The Inquiry.

“What the hell do you want?” she sputtered, waking up fully. There was silence for a moment on the other end.

“I guess you saw the tabloids,” was all Rodger said.



Best Made Plans. . . Part 3 Six Sentence Sunday

This week went slowly so I’m appreciating the relaxation of Six Sentence Sunday even more. At least I’m one more week closer to summer vacation and writing/reading bliss. :-)

Make sure to stop by and visit the other writers participating in Six Sentence Sunday.

Continuing a little further from where we left off last week, Rodger is remembering the moments before he called Rachel.

Feeling lousy, Rodger had sat in the bar of the hotel, clutching a sweaty beer bottle while trying to rouse up the courage to call Rachel. He went up to his room with a bottle of Scotch to keep him company a bit longer. He’d call after he had more liquid fortification. He had a sinking feeling she wouldn’t be happy. She’d probably be pissed, and have every right to be.

He hadn’t expected her to be indifferent.