FFF - That Wild Look

 

She twirls and asks you, "Are you scared of me?"

You reply, "No, I'm just scared that someone will see you."

"Who cares? Let them look!" And she spreads her carmine overcoat wide, her skin pink from the cold wind, tiny nipples erect like your cock, in defiance of the chill.

"Fuck me, right here, on the street!" she gasps, rolling her hips wantonly.

"Gina, we need to go inside again, where it's warm..." you begin. She looks at you with that wild look in her eye, then it's as if she sees herself reflected in your gaze and she shrivels. "...before we get frostbite," you finish quietly, seeing the transformation. Her coat sags closed again. The life is gone from her eyes.

Later, in your room, you try to make excuses. You were only worried for her. You'll try again, maybe somewhere less crowded. If that's what she really wants. And it seems to mollify her a little. The spark returns. The two of you awkwardly embrace. She pulls out your now-flaccid member and tries to massage it to life. But you both know there's nothing there.

In the end, she falls asleep facing the wall. You can't tell for certain, but you think she might have cried. Maybe that was the sparkle you saw in her eye. Not the real thing. Just a facsimile.

You can't sleep. The winter night is long and you spend it staring out the window, trying to recapture in your mind's eye the look on her face as she teased you. Trying to will it into life.

In the morning, she leaves you, as you knew she would.

---

This got darker than I started out. If you can believe it, I started out writing something about Little Red Riding Hood and the wolf. It didn't work. It wasn't working. I tried rewriting it several times, and each time the exhibitionism of the picture defeated the form I was trying to force it into.

So then I stepped back, started something totally different, and wound up being super heavy and depressing. It's not a depressing picture at all. It's cute, it's slightly wanton, and she almost seems like she's being lifted by unseen hands. And I had to go and be all sad with it.

One thing I will say: writing in second person present tense is not something I usually do. Hell, I rarely write in the present tense period. But I decided that, if I wasn't going to be as inventive with the story, I would at least try to flex my writing muscles a little with the form. I'm super out of practice.

---

Did you know that the best way to get practice is to practice? And you can practice by heading over to Max's blog and playing along. He's back doing Flash Fiction Friday and I for one couldn't be happier because I certainly needed some practice. It's like riding a bicycle; you never really forget, but if you don't do it for a few years when you get back on you wind up looking foolish for the first few pedals. Something like that.