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Friday, June 11, 2010

Prompt Friday: "...Dancer from the Dance"

"She dipped..."
...Dancer from the Dance

She dipped her little finger into the champagne glass, capturing the smallest drop of liquid -- complete with a few bubbles -- in the ridges of her finger print. With practiced ease, she brought her fingertip to her mouth and wrapped her lips around her French-manicured nail, pulling the sweetness onto her tongue.

She tried her hardest to make her actions seem unconscious -- thoughtless, even -- but she knew exactly what she was doing, the game she was playing. They both knew their roles.

The increased pressure of his hand against her lower back -- right where the low-low dip of the satin of her dress brushed against the top of her hips -- was reward enough. She could feel the warm metal of his wedding ring against her skin, and it sent an electric jolt along her spine; a tingling thrill at the knowledge that the ring around his finger did not bind him to her.

He slipped the fluted glass from her slender hand and it was whisked away on a tray that happened to float by. He took her naked left hand in his right hand, the weight of the gold band still planted firmly against her back, and ushered her to the dance floor, pulling her body flush to his. The familiar scent of his cologne overwhelmed her senses, making her head spin in excitement as he twirled her in time to the music. He pulled her close and dipped her low, leaning over her body, the day's worth of stubble brushing lightly against the exposed skin of her breast bone. The over-stimulation and the slight buzz of a few glasses of champagne had her giggling by the time he dragged her out of the dip and back into his chest.

He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, the gleam of the wedding ring catching her attention out of the corner of her eye. He noticed the direction of her eyes, and shifted his hand to cup her cheek, bringing their lips together. She momentarily marveled at how he managed to taste of spearmint, despite the lack of a discernable source. The brief kiss left her feeling slightly breathless. The whole situation seemed so surreal, as the dance floor whirled about them, leaving two lovers afloat in a future tragedy of their own making.

nt - 6/11/10

Notes: Title from William Butler Yeats' "Among School Children." Also, I appear to be fond of the em-dash today.

In other news, I have a headache. This is being remedied with Led Zeppelin, Mint Magic and getting some writing done (yeah, I don't know how that last one fits in, either). Anyway, Mint Magic is potentially the best tea ever, which has nothing to do with the fact that the picture on the box is this:

That wizard looks like he's using some serious mojo on that tea.

*Prompt taken from The Write Brain Workbook: 366 Exercises to Liberate Your Writing by Bonnie Neubauer

Wednesday, June 9, 2010

Question Wednesday

Q: What is a smell that you associate with a person, place, thing, or memory?

A: The one really distinct scent memory that I have is of my mother's perfume. Her favorite perfume is Giorgio and every time I smell it, it makes me think of my mom and being a little kid, smelling that perfume. Even her car smells of the perfume, so whenever I borrow it (which is rare, these days), it makes me feel like she's there.

I have a passenger on my 'lette that wears Giorgio as well, however, she doesn't fully understand the concept of 'too much' and wears so much perfume that, despite the fact that she is sitting all the way in the back of the van, a good 8-9 feet behind me, the smell of her perfume is so overwhelming that it makes me sneeze and my eyes water and forces me to open a window so I don't suffocate.

Got a question for me? Hit up the contact page to email it to me!


Monday, June 7, 2010

Status Report Monday (lookie here, who has returned...)

Apologies for being completely M.I.A. last week. My grandmother took a brief turn for the worst, so all my extra time was spent at the hospital. She's doing better now, thanks for all your thoughts and prayers.

That being said, I got little to nothing accomplished this past week. The only thing that really got worked on was an outline for Anomaly, version 2.0: Bigger, Better, More Hot Chicks and Explosions.

Also, it was 90 degrees all last week, which took my motivation level down to astronomically low depths. Or something like that. Have I mentioned that I'm exhausted and really ready for a nap?

I'm hoping that the writing mojo that has been previously lost will be reclaimed this week. Perhaps having gone on a REAL DATE by a cute, interesting person UNDER the age of 35 will help. Yes, beware, the apocalypse has happened: all massive electrical storms and natural disasters can be traced back to me having a date. Date number 2 is loosely planned for Wednesday. The excitement mounts.

And now it's time for me to go investigate long-term sleeping and working arrangements. So much work to do....