Name' sake

. . . 

"Ow!" She winced, sitting up - his warm hand brushed her ankle. "Right there . . . "  Their eyes locked  . . . .her lips . . . soft. . . Bait . . . . She drew his breath . . .

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"Are you hungry? I can make something  . . ."  "Omlet" . . .she thrust the satisfaction of the inhale toward the ceiling. "I wish you wouldnt smoke in here, I dont really li . . ." "Ham and cheese omlet . . . mmm"  she kissed his cheek.  . . The cloud followed her naked abandon into the master bathroom. Jacks mind raced - ("what the hell just happened?  Im supposed to be at work right now") a grin came to his face - the possibilities  . . . 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Fate rarely deals face up cards . . .

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"You never told me your name" Jack mused, folding the omlet. "What do you do Jack?" She led with dismissal . . . Again. "Hmm?" "Work, ya know . . . What do you do?" "Oh, uh . . . Accounts receivable" . . ."sounds boring". "Hope you like it, been awhile since I made an omlet"  She crossed her leg . . . dropped her spent cigarette into the cold coffee. She was wearing his bathrobe - a mere formality - it had fallen open as she turned towards the table . . . she had stunning legs. 

. . . 

The clatter from the kitchen startled Jack as he was about to put the shaving cream on his face . . .  "Fuck me!" She growled . . . thighs wide - remants of breakfast strewn and broken on the floor. He held no hesitation, no reservation . . . Animal lust and the kitchen table shook violently in the late morning scene.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Things are not always as they seem, take care black widow -  your hour has come to pass . . . 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

The afternoon welcomed the new lovers - schemers . . . The old movie droning on lazily from the television across the bedroom. Jack was happy to oblige, her cue - the ice rattling at the bottom of her glass. He served . . . Got back in bed at her side . . . And waited . . . 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Jack calmed himself with another deep breath - standing beside the bed - his hands gripping the edges of the stainless steel cart - slowly, methodically  - he undid the tie and rolled open his collection. Sterile,  sharp, precise.

It had been a long time. A slow smile made its way - she was finally coming to. Spred and bound - gagged and blindfolded . . . Nude . . . 

[Scene 8]  / key grip set to ending script. *camera 3 pans wide/fade - *camera 4 pulls back from bedroom slowly/out/ - door closes  -《 fade to black 》

~ fin

It was a Thursday,  not bad as far as Thursdays go . . . 

The beatbox kid wasnt on the corner this morning  . . . odd. . . .

The grounding sound of jackhammers, back-up beepers, and distant blowing horns made him somehow at ease on this gray day. Exhaust, steel, and sewer gas . . .

The peripheral sight didnt quite register until he was several steps past the side alley . . . ("Was that . . . ? . . . A woman laying on the ground?")  He went back . . . It was.

"You ok?" . . . He bent down "Excuse me, are you ok?"  . . . 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Wicked mistress in the shadows of the jungle - hard and as unforgiving as the cold stone she leaves you lifeless on. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

"What day is it?" She mumbled. "Whats that?" He asked gently, placing the hand towel back just so . . . "what day is it!?" She gruffed over the coffee he set in front of her. "Thursday" . . . "Today is Thursday, . . . . the 20th".  "Gimmie a cigarette  . . ."   "I dont smoke" . . . "fuck . . . " . "They are ba . . ."  . . ."I need a fucking cigarette!" She dismissed his sermon with a glare. . . He froze . . . She reigned herself back in . . . "Please?" . . . "I could um . . . .go down to the . . . " he motioned toward the store in his head . . . "Please?" ("This one was gonna be easy"). "Theres more coffee . . . Just ah . . . I'll be right back - couple minutes". She gave him her best puppy-dog eyes over her cup. The dirt and smeared black helped.

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

No good deed goes without ones own need, to satiate . . . 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

Steam billowed from the bathroom - the door open. "You never told me what . . ." "Thank you!" . . . "I bought a pack of . . . " "I cant hear you . . ." He tossed the marlboro's on the table and poured himself a cup. 

"I didnt know what kind to get" he pointed . . . She was wearing his white dress shirt he had hung on the door the night before, hair wrapped in a white towel and one drying her  face. "Thats fine, thank you - wheres my purse?" . . . " purse? I didnt see any purse" . . .

"Whats your name?" He asked . . . "I need my purse!" She turned to head back towards the bathroom and twisted with a gasp, and fell to the floor. "Oh shit!" He jumped up.  "Leave me alone!" She shoved him away, and began to sob into the carpet. "Let me help you" . . . "Go away!" . . . She cried harder. "Here, let me help you . . . I'll go look for your purse". . . "I dont want your help! Leave me alone!"  She blubbered inaudible sufferings to the gods of mercy . . . . 

*  *  *  *  *  *  *

He returned empty handed,  45 minutes later, the apartment was silent. Jack found her - a curve under the blankets on the far side of his bed. "I couldnt find your purse" he said quietly . . . "   She stirred with a slight moan.

"Would you like me to . . . " she muttered something he couldnt make out "what?" He went towards her "I hurt my ankle" she cried little tears . . . . "Do you need a doctor?" . . . "Can you look at it? . . . . Please?" She whimpered, pulling the covers back. She was a very shapely girl, pretty . . . . Nude . . . . 

She lifted the corner, then snapped down the lid and proceeded to cut the next single serving portion of last nights lasagna to put in the freezer - Karen had a bad habit of cooking for the 4 of them, when it was just her and Doug, now that the boys had gotten a place together in town. "Me and Tubbs are meeting up with Eric tonight" he said half towards her as he reached for the door knob. "God dammit Doug!" She yelled at the last little bit of lasagna that refused to fit, and too small for its own container "Two weeks!" She turned to him, her hands still in the pan. He looked blankly at her, hand frozen on the knob . . . "my dinner" . . . . "President of the company . . " . . . Dougs face fell, unable to hide - "we planned this two weeks ago!" . . .
"Its his birthday honey" . . . "ya know what" she tossed the spatula in the sink "go! - have a blast! , ill go to the damn dinner by myself!" "Only the most impor. . . " she trailed off angrily into the bedroom and swung the door shut. Doug sighed heavily and let go of the knob "its fine honey, ill tell Eric and them I cant make it" "fuck you Doug!" He was able to make out. He started for the bedroom - hesitated, looked at his watch . . . . "I love you" . . . . . .

Nothing . . .

"I gotta go, im gonna be late" . . . .

Nothing . . .

She knew her husband loved her, he was just such a . . . RRRR! Sometimes!

She hurried into her white blouse and black skirt, she was going to be late herself if she didnt get a move on.
Heels, earrings . . . "Where the hell is my black belt?" She quickly rummaged through the bureau.

Karen was an attractive woman, 43 - shoulder length black hair. She had the body of a 50s pin-up - soft, curvy - 5'6". She carried herself with confidence - "square shoulders, back straight, head up" - She was in line for the vice presidents position next year - she ran a tight ship at the office, she had to.

"Fuck!" She spat as she got back out of the car to double check if she had turned the stove off. . . "Fuck!" She spat again, noticing the run on the side of her stalking as she got back in the car . . . "whatever!" . . .

Traffic on the 610 was particularly brutal this morning - 6 car pile up on the exchange did not help. She returned the gesture as the Mercedes, obviously more late , blew past her - horn blaring.

* * * * * * * * *

"Where's David?" She asked, peeking her head in Stacey's office. "He called in Ms Kline, said something about a meeting he had forgotten about ". Karen rolled her eyes "thats the 4th 'meeting' this month". Stacey did not look up from her phone.

Jess was off on maternity, and Rebecca moved back to Illinois to be with her declining mother - leaving just the two of them - basically leaving Karen - to run the shop.

Stacey was a pretty girl, 24 years old - long red hair, usually up in a lazy half knot - slender build - pale white skin. She had an Associates in applied business. Her dad was on the board at the college, and a substantial investor in the company Karen was hoping to become vice president of. Personally, Karen felt Stacey was dead weight, but never dared to speak her mind on the subject.

She took a deep breath and studied the notes on her desk from Friday. She always hated Mondays. "Wheres the Hewlett report?" She yelled at her open door. . .

"Stacey!?" . . .

She got up and walked across the hall and peeked her head back into Stacey's office - still glued to her cell phone "wheres the Hewlett report? I told you it had to be ready by Monday morning?".
"I didnt have time Ms Kline" she replied without looking "ill finish it today" - A bit of a snide tone - Stacey resented Karen telling her what to do. "Maybe if youd put that damn cell phone down!" She went back to her own office and threw herself into the chair "off to a great start" she said to herself, through clenched teeth.
The morning progressed with the usual filings and phone calls. 11:15 - in the middle of a draft - her computer screen blinked off "what the . . .!?" She switched it off and back on - it did not respond. "Great! - Needed this!" She slapped the side of the monitor on her way across the hall.

"Im gonna need you to finish the Benson draft I've been working on - my computer just died . . . and im going to lunch". "Uh huh" Stacey replied casually - fervently texting . . . "It has to be done A.S.A.P. " Karen said, stepping closer, no longer able to contain her frustration. "Ok! - ill do it in awhile!" "you'll do it now!" Karen demanded, grabbing the phone out of her hand. "Give me that!" "I need the Benson report done! . . As .. soon .. as . . .possible! " "give me my phone back!" Stacey stood up. "Ya know - you sit here on this damn phone all day long while I am trying to do everything!" She exclaimed, pointing at her own office "You're not my boss!" Stacey snapped, reaching for her phone. Karen tossed it down on the desk and stormed out - she didnt see the finger as she headed out of Stacey's office, but she could feel it.

* * * * * * * * *

La' Prestora was a small diner and coffee shop on the corner - Karen stared blankly at the swirl of creamer, while she waited for her tuna on rye. Her mind raced with the things she would have liked to have done about Stacey's bitchy little atitude. It seemed all of lifes frustrations were funneling down to her resentment over her getting that position instead of Chris, her best friend.

She took her time making her way back to the office - she knew she needed to say something 'pleasant' to Stacey - defuse the tension a bit. "Look . . " she started . . . .
"I was told we get 'an hour' lunch" Stacey interrupted, before Karen could finish. She decided this was a good opportunity to flex her position. Karen's aplologetic demeanor immediately flipped to heightened anger. "I'll take as long of a lunch break as I feel like taking!" She stepped towards her, "You've got room to talk! You're on a lunch break all day!" pointing to her phone - "Did you get the Benson draft finished!? Of course you didnt! You're too damn busy texting!" Karen could feel her face getting flushed, her heart pounding in her chest - "I do everything around here!"

Stacey liked to push her weight around when ever she felt she could get away with it - "spoiled brat" was Karen's pet name for her behind her back, but she knew she was all bark, no bite - she would buckle at the first sign of a challenge, and Karen was in no mood today . . .

"I need the Benson draft - Now!" Put that goddam phone down and get to work!"
"I'm taking 'my' lunch - its 12:35!" Stacey declared triumphantly. Karen was speechless as she watched her suanter out of the office.
"ggrrr! . . I wanna . . .aahh!" . . . "One hour!" She yelled after her, needing the last word. She didnt see that finger either, as she headed back to her own office.

Karen tried to ignore her blank computer screen - mocking her. She went about setting dates and times in her daily planner, filing finished drafts in alphabetical order, and trying to remain calm as the clock went on to ten minutes to two - still no Stacey. "That little bitch" she grumbled to herself - feelings were stirring deep inside - hatred, anger, a lustful need for revenge - a need to assert dominance. She had been feeling her world slipping out of control and it made her feel helpless - she did not like feeling helpless.

At five past two Stacey walked through the door - and without a word went into her office and shut the door.
"Let it go" Karen coached herself "just let it go .. . " suddenly her plants needed watering and the top of the file cabinet dusted, "3 more hours and this day will be over". . . . The phone startled her . . . "Chase and Briggs, this is Karen .. ." Silence . . . "Hello?" . . ."I dont have the last page of the Benson draft - you do!" . . . "oh for fucks sake!" - she hung up the phone and barged into Stacey's office - "So you call me!?" - "here!" slamming the paper down.
Stacey abruptly stood up, defiant - "how am I supposed to finish 'your' work, "ASAP" air quoting - "if I dont have the whole draft!?" Her words dripping with sarcasm - "Look you little bitch!" She stepped in - Karen didnt see it coming - Stacey slapped her hard across the face.

Before she even had the chance to second guess her own actions, Karen grabbed her by the back of the neck and pushed her down hard on the desk, pulled her belt off and began beating Stacey's behind. "Let me go! - what are you . . ." " something Daddy should have done a long time ago!"

Karen was like a cornered wild animal that Stacey had been poking with a stick - all day! She had had enough! A rage swept over her she could no longer control - this seemed the only solution - a side of her burst out she did not even know existed - the thin belt had no weight to it, and was futile against the denim skirt Stacey had on that day, but she was going to get her point across regardless - she swung hard and fast. Stacey squirmed and pleaded "let me go! - you're hurting me! - let me go!" Stacey was weak, and certainly no match for Karens strong determination. She gripped the edge of the desk and tried to push herself up, but could not. Karen pushed her down even harder - "I - am - sick - and - tired . . . " she lectured, the belt keeping time. Almost as a reflex, she reached down and lifted Stacey's skirt, and continued beating her. Her white cotton panties offered little protection . . . "Ooww! - let me go!" She began to sob. "I have delt with your atitude far too long!" Her belt lashing over and over.
Stacey's body began to tremble - tears now flowing from her eyes - all she could do was grip the edge of the desk.
Karen's pace started to slow - her rage began to subside, it was becoming something else - her strokes became slower - harder - more purposeful - aimed. Stacey, sobbing loudly - fully surrendered. . . .

Karen, lost now - hesitated only for a moment, then pulled Stacey's panties down . . . . .

(I wrote this a year ago)

*The following is an excerpt from my favorite non-fantasy author,  John Steinbeck - in his award winning 1952 novel "East of Eden".

Seemed remarkable how fitting, still - so thought I would share.

" I don’t know how it will be in the years to come. There are monstrous changes taking place in the world, forces shaping a future whose face we do not know. Some of these forces seem evil to us, perhaps not in themselves but because their tendency is to eliminate other things we hold good. It is true that two men can lift a bigger stone than one man. A group can build automobiles quicker and better than one man, and bread from a huge factory is cheaper and more uniform. When our food and clothing and housing all are born in the complication of mass production, mass method is bound to get into our thinking and to eliminate all other thinking. In our time mass or collective production has entered our economics, our politics, and even our religion, so that some nations have substituted the idea collective for the idea God. This in my time is the danger. There is great tension in the world, tension toward a breaking point, and men are unhappy and confused.
At such a time it seems natural and good to me to ask myself these questions. What do I believe in? What must I fight for and what must I fight against?
Our species is the only creative species, and it has only one creative instrument, the individual mind and spirit of a man. Nothing was ever created by two men. There are no good collaborations, whether in music, in art, in poetry, in mathematics, in philosophy. Once the miracle of creation has taken place, the group can build and extend it, but the group never invents anything. The preciousness lies in the lonely mind of a man.
And now the forces marshaled around the concept of the group have declared a war of extermination on that preciousness, the mind of man. By disparagement, by starvation, by repressions, forced direction, and the stunning hammerblows of conditioning, the free, roving mind is being pursued, roped, blunted, drugged. It is a sad suicidal course our species seems to have taken.
And this I believe: that the free, exploring mind of the individual human is the most valuable thing in the world. And this I would fight for: the freedom of the mind to take any direction it wishes, undirected. And this I must fight against: any idea, religion, or government which limits or destroys the individual. This is what I am and what I am about. I can understand why a system built on a pattern must try to destroy the free mind, for this is one thing which can by inspection destroy such a system. Surely I can understand this, and I hate it and I will fight against it to preserve the one thing that separates us from the uncreative beasts. If the glory can be killed, we are lost."

*  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *  *

Every person is unique,  and every relationship is unique. We all have a commonality in this "lifestyle", but no one belongs in a box of conformity.

We should rejoice and embrace our individuality, and feel and express the wonder of creation, that is inherent in each and every one of us.

*tense past

*dont ask

 Response to Ms Theandras' challenge.

5 things I dislike about myself.

1 - I allow too much of myself to others. (Hard for me to say no - often taken advantage of)

2 - I hold on to past grievances/heartache far too long.

3 - I am a perfectionist - to the point of insomnia - nothing necessarily wrong with striving for perfection - but to a point, right?

4 - I over analyze 

5 - agreeing to take challenges online

5 things I like about myself.

1 - My heart

2 - My ability to problem solve

3 - I am a natural empath (can be tiring at times though)

4 - My eye for the world in pictures. Every day I see things in the frame of a photograph. 

5 - My dick . . . . Ok ok,  🤔  I was blessed with a good body - I dont mean in a vain way, I mean strong, healthy, durable. Havent been sick in over 30 years, never broken a bone (even though ive done and been in some pretty serious crap).  I have unusually large lungs, etc etc 😏

Thank you for this reflective experience Ms Theandras  ☺⚘