Igor Stravinsky

Author's Note: This came out quite a bit longer than I originally intended. Part 1 It was Saturday, around 10:00 a.m., and Emily Walker sat on the couch of the small house she rented watching television and drinking coffee. She was dressed in loose light-gray workout pants with thick pink socks. She wore a sky-blue t-shirt that came to just above her navel, exposing her flat stomach. The tight t-shirt hugged body like a second skin, emphasizing her breasts, making it obvious that she wore no bra. She had her long legs pulled up in front of her on the couch, and she peered over them at the television. She shook her head a bit to clear her bangs from her eyes, setting her blond, asymmetrical bob in motion. ...

The sun was already beginning to warm the field behind the small, isolated cabin, burning off the cool and dew of the morning. The door opened, and a couple stepped out of the rustic cottage. They were both in their mid-twenties, obviously fit, similarly attired in cargo shorts, t-shirts and open-sided walking shoes. He was a full head taller than her, shirt and shorts loose; his exposed legs and arms displaying a wiry muscularity, hair shoulder length and dark brown. His attitude was enthusiastic, eyes bright and eager. ...

Author's Note: Some stories are too wild to be believed. “Holy shit, man! You’re never gonna freakin’ believe this! Let’s get a table near the back. I know there’s no one here, but I don’t need anyone else hearing this. Yes, way in the back. I’m telling you, man, this really happened! Ture story! Okay, okay! I’m calming down. Do you have that thing on? I want to get all this down before I forget any of it. Although I don’t think I’m gonna forget this for a long time.” ...

Author's Note: Tried to write something a little shorter He sat in the easy chair with his feet up, watching Remains of the Day. He took a sip of his Scotch on the rocks and replaced the glass on the end table. The balmy temperature of the living room allowed him to indulge in the comfort of bare feet, jeans and a simple, black t-shirt. He looked to his left. ...

You stand at the door. It is heavy, oaken, crossed with iron straps. Pierced solely by a tiny grille at eye level, displaying the merest hint of a glow from within. Buried in the cold stone basement of the old manor, its appearance alone fills you with trepidation, to say nothing of the step you intend to take when the door opens. The air is clammy, moist. You shiver in your thin shirt and bare feet. You gather your resolve and raise a hand to strike the iron knocker in the center of the door. Just as your hand is about to grip the metal ring, you hear - ...

Author's Note: Tried to see what I could do with basically just a monologue. Feedback is appreciated. “Mmmmmmph! Nnnnh? Eeeeh?!” “Yes, yes, of course! I’ll explain everything to you. Since you asked. Just so you know, I can’t understand a thing you’re saying through that gag. It’s one of my largest, you know. Strapped in there nice and tight like that, and held in by that hood, it really muffles and garbles everything but basic vowels. By the way, that hood fits you like a glove! Do I know how to pick them or what? With the laces cinched down, it’s like a second skin! The leather is so smooth. Very sexy on you, if you don’t mind me saying. I’m quite proud of myself for sizing you up so accurately.” ...

Author's Note: I know lots of authors say this, and no one ever believes them, but this is a (mostly) accurate account of a real scene I recently did. You can believe me or not, that doesn’t change the fact that it really happened. Breathe in, breathe out - ninety-six. Breathe in, breathe out - ninety-seven. Breathe in, breathe out - ninety-eight. Breathe in, breathe out - oh, god, please. Ninety-nine. ...

Aidan Matthews stepped out of the elevator to the underground garage below his apartment building and started walking towards his car. He heard his name. “Aidan!” It was the superintendent of his building, Lauren Wells. She was walking towards him. “Hi, Lauren,” said Aidan sheepishly, which was how he did most things. “How is my sexy lil’ boy toy?” Lauren said, grabbing his shoulder. Aidan did not object to the harassment - in fact, he loved it. He liked Lauren but lacked the wherewithal to do anything about it. Lauren loomed over him - literally standing several inches taller than him, even in her brown work boots. She wore jeans that were not tight, but not loose either, showing the curve of her legs. The black t-shirt she wore was tight, emphasizing her waist and showing breasts Aidan had to concentrate on not staring at. Over the t-shirt she wore an unbuttoned flannel shirt. Her wavy brown hair was kept under a Caterpillar ball cap, and her hazel eyes bore down on him, as if pinning a bug to a board. ...

Part 1 “Well, what did you think?” he asked as the credits started to roll. “Inconceivable!” she said, and they both laughed. “It’s ‘inconceivable’ that you’ve never seen The Princess Bride,” he said. “Well, thanks for making me watch it. It was awesome,” she said, grasping his arm. “Thanks for making dinner,” he said, smiling at her. Dominic had been dating Beth for several weeks, mostly dinner out, parties with mutual friends and going to the movies. This was their first night alone, in her house, and he was both nervous and excited for what could come next. ...