“By The Time This Night Is Over…” #fictionfriday #lyricalfictionfriday

This is a previously posted fiction adapted to fit this week’s #LyricalFictionFridayChallenge!

Photo credit: eltio_lewis / Foter / CC BY-NC

If we were any closer, I’d be drowning in Alejandro’s eyes.

I stopped swaying and lifted my head from his chest. Just the way in which he returned my gaze made my legs weak. My eyes were speaking volumes and he was hearing me loud and clear.

Why was I desperately trying to hang onto my last shred of willpower?

I was unattached, single and attracted to him at a level that I hadn’t experienced in a very long time. I also thought that it was so sweet and irresistible that he had admitted how his friends had to encourage him to try and talk to me instead of being timid.

Blame it on the island life, his authenticity with me, the fact that he was sizzling hot (as Ella would say), it really didn’t matter.

By the time this night is over, you’ll be wrapped around him anyways.

Alejandro lowered his lips to mine and to keep my balance, I clung to him, grabbing handfuls of his shirt.

Sweet, slow and soft. With each kiss, we delved deeper into each other with more intensity. One arm circled my waist, the other hand tracing the length of my back, Alejandro was giving me goosebumps of all kinds. I had no choice but to slide my hands up his chest and drape them around his neck. When we finally came up for air, I couldn’t catch my breath. I had totally lost my mind for those few minutes and I think he had too.

We held onto each for what felt like forever and said nothing, just trying to catch our breath. And that is when my rationale mind came back to rear its ugly head. I needed to explain why I had waited this long to let my defenses down with him, that it wasn’t some kind of a game, how I had been hurt before…

Alejandro must have read my mind of jumbled thoughts because just as I opened my mouth to speak, he placed his index finger on my lips.

“I only need to know one thing.” Alejandro paused and searched my eyes. “Do you ever think about him when you are with me?”

Him? Him who? It didn’t matter…the answer was hell no.

When I shook my head, he removed his finger and cupped my face within the palms of his large warm hands.

“That’s all I needed to know.”

©2015/2017 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Pingback to “No”.

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“The Baby Conspiracy” #fiction #holidayshortfiction

*Christmas-flavored fiction*

“Don’t ever do it.”

Her voice is a whisper over the phone. I assume that people are in the room with her because she sounds afraid of being overheard and there is holiday music in the background.

“Don’t do what?” I’m confused since all I asked was how she and the baby are doing now they are finally home after all the complications.

“Have a baby. Don’t do it. It’s a trick. One huge fucking conspiracy.”

“Uh…”

“I’m telling you, it’s a fucking trick. All of your friends with kids encourage you to do it, tell you how great and rewarding it is. But it’s not true. They just want you to jump into that miserable, sinking ship so that you can drown with them.”

How am I supposed to respond to that?

“You’re just exhausted after all that you went through and have post-baby blues. I know that you must be missing your mother too and it’s also almost Christmas so you’re stressed out…”

“All I want for Christmas is my fucking life back! This has to be a conspiracy because they all know awful it really is before you do it and push you to do it. They only tell you the fucking truth after its too late,” she continues to whisper as if I didn’t even say a word.

Hormones, exhaustion, the burden of new mommy-hood responsibilities and the holiday season are taking a huge toll on her. She needs to vent to someone outside her family, someone who isn’t going to judge her for feeling unmommy-like.

But strangely enough, it isn’t the first time I’ve heard that theory from a few women in my entourage.

Is she right? Is there some kind of conspiracy going on?

As I remember all the lonely days of finding the courage to give myself the strict regimen of injections, I slide my hand across my secretly growing belly and am no longer sure I want to put that theory to the test all by myself.

©2016 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Originally posted on February 4, 2016, adapted in December 2017

This fiction inspired by this article.

 

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#1MinFiction: “Mistletoe and Ornaments” #fiction #holidayshortfiction

*Christmas-flavored short fiction*

This was written for Nortina’s #1MinFiction Challenge at Lovely Curses .

This week’s prompt was “Ornament“.

This piece is a follow-up to “Tuskeegee Chunk”. Feel free to read it first before continuing.

“I have to kiss you.”

While the world outside was rushing around at a frenzied pace with last minute holiday shopping, there we stood in my doorway after an afternoon of shopping for his sister’s Christmas gift. As a collector of intricately designed Christmas ornaments myself, I had helped Jake pick out just the right one for his sister’s collection.

Jake pointed up to the fake mistletoe my best friend had hung above my doorway that now teased us from above. He grinned as his eyes followed mine to the shiny plastic green and red decoration.

“We really don’t have a choice Kris… we shouldn’t break a longstanding tradition, right?”

Could one little kiss complicate our friendship?

Before I could say anything, Jake gently slid his hand behind my neck to pull me in closer to him. Unsure of what to do, I stood still like a statue as he tilted his lips down towards mine. Just as our noses brushed against each other, Jake stopped and searched my eyes to see if I would pull away.

I didn’t.

One little kiss won’t complicate things.

I raised my chin and we kissed so softly that his lips were like feathers against mine. With each recurring touch our lips, Jake deepened his kisses. And I returned each one just as deeply, wanting to savor this first and likely last lapse in our judgement.

I had entertained the thought of this more than once since we had become friends in that hospital waiting room but the intensity of our kiss surprised me.

Who knew that dealing with cancer would be full of bittersweet surprises…

“Well, for something that’s fake, it’s some powerful mistletoe,” I joked, trying to recompose myself after we finally broke free. “It’s a good thing it’s not real.”

Jake exhaled deeply, smiled and leaned his forehead down against mine.

“That kiss was real…I don’t think that I can be friends with you anymore.” His voice was a husky whisper his eyes were still closed.

“What?”

“You heard me…I want more than being friends with you Kris.”

I backed away and searched his thoughts.

“You mean…because life is short and we don’t know what tomorrow will bring?”

Jake’s eyes lit up.

“Exactly!”

I pulled Jake away from the door and further into the foyer so that I could shut the door.

“Jake, that’s the cancer talking. Your fear of dying, wanting to throw caution to the wind and doing all the things you’ve wanted to do like the motorcycle you bought… I’ve been through it so I know what you’re feeling. But being more than friends at this point in time wouldn’t be wise for either of us.”

Awkwardness filled the space between us and Jake turned beet red.

“But Kris…I’m better and soon, you will be too…”

I grabbed his hand softly and pulled him towards the livingroom with me.

“Please don’t…Jake. I don’t want to feel sad. Let’s just chill and watch some Christmas movies, okay?”

After what had happened, sappy movies on the Lifetime Channel was definitely out of the question. Without another word, I turned on the television and found “Die Hard” was on for the upteenth time.

As we settled onto the couch with his arm warmly draped over my shoulder and my head resting on his, it was harder than I thought to pretend like the past few minutes had never happened.

One little kiss has complicated everything…

Being more than friends definitely wouldn’t be wise, especially knowing what I hadn’t told him yet.

©2017 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute. Your prompt may be a photo, or a word, or a sentence—whatever inspires me, and hopefully inspires you too.

“When The One You’re With Is Not The One You Really Want” #lyricalfictionfriday #fictionfriday #holidayshortfiction

*Christmas-flavored short fiction*

This was written for yesterday’s #LyricalFictionFridayChallenge

Photo credit: Foter.com

When I finally navigated through the gaggle of Christmas shoppers and icy sidewalk patches, Monique had disappeared into the crowd.

Then I noticed a coffee shop across the way and instinctively knew that is where she had gone. Before I could think twice, I made my way through their doors and found her sitting alone at a corner table sipping on an iced tea with her holiday themed bags scattered at her feet. I never understood how Monique could enjoy iced tea instead of hot chocolate on subzero days but it was one of the quirks I loved about her.

I slid into the seat in front of her and extended my hand to touch hers. She quickly hid them under the table.

“You have to stop this. We have to stop this. It makes no sense to be falling for me,” Monique sighed loudly. Frustration overwhelmed her face as she put her tea to her lips but didn’t take a sip.

“You know that we can’t stop. Why haven’t you been texting or calling me back?”

“Trying to remain friends is not going to work…”

“Monique, don’t say that…”

“Look, there is just too much history between us. We can’t be “just friends”. We both need to move on and get back to our real lives. You’ve got her and I’ve got him so we shouldn’t be calling. Harry is my husband and I plan on keeping it that way.”

Monique was visibility upset and my heart hurt just looking at her drowning in denial.

“I don’t have her anymore. Because of you, I let her go. I love you and you love me. That will never change.”

“None of that matters now. Harry is a good man who loves me. You and I could never make it work. Unlike you, I’m not sure what I feel for you. And even if I did love you, it would cause me nothing but pain and complications that I don’t need in my life right now!”

Monique’s words were like a slap to my face, which was already flushed with shame. She turned her head and stared out the window at the falling snow, refusing to look at me.

I pushed away from the coffee table, stood up and stared down at her.

“So that’s it? You’re dismissing me just like that Monique?”

“It’s for the best Rebecca…for all involved.”

Monique’s eyes were full of lies and the fact that she called me “Rebecca” instead of “Becky” irritated the hell out of me.

“Wow! Just…wow! And to think that I would rather have had bad times with you than have good times with anyone else in this world…But I’m done trying to convince you of what you already know to be true. Eventually you won’t be able to deny who you are and what you are. And when you realize that the one you’re with is not the one you really want, it will be too late. Tell Harry I said Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!

I turned on my heels on Monique and stormed out the coffee shop before my tears could flow, thinking about how alone I would be on Christmas Day.

©2017 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Pingback to “Just Friends”

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“If They Take Dogs and Jews, They’ll Probably Take You…” #fiction #race #holidayshortfiction

*Christmas-flavored short fiction*

It hadn’t dawned on me to warn landlords that we were Black but I guess that I should have…

Inspired by a true event…

Montreal, 1963.

“Sorry, we do have apartments for rent but we can’t risk having other tenants move out if you move in.”

I stood there with the baby sleeping in my arms while my other son peeked out from behind my skirt. He gave the middle-aged woman the same blank look that I was giving her. My husband was registering at the university so we were on our own to apartment hunt that day. It was cold and the excitement of witnessing my first snowfall was long gone.

This was the third visit we had made in response to For Rent ads and it would be the third time we were turned away. It hadn’t dawned on me to warn landlords that we were Black but I guess that I should have – it would have saved my time and my little one’s feet in this eye-opening cold.

Three times was not a charm.

Seeing the look of despair on my face, the woman tried to be helpful.

“Why don’t you try the building across the street, dear? They always have availability. If they take dogs and Jews, they’ll probably take you. Merry Christmas.”

And with that, the woman quietly shut her door.

©2017 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Originally posted February 28, 2016, adapted in December 2017

#1MinFiction: “Number Five” #fiction #holidayshortfiction

*Christmas-flavored short fiction*

This was written for Nortina’s #1MinFiction Challenge at Lovely Curses

This week’s prompt is “Most wonderful time of the year

The most wonderful time of the year found me in bed with a man I didn’t even know.

For the fifth time this December.

I had forgotten this stranger’s name the moment he had told me when I had met him during my holiday season shopping at the mall. But it didn’t matter because I didn’t give a flying fuck.

I didn’t care about anything except how disgustingly satisfied I felt as he lay snoring next to me in this dirty motel room with the cheap siesta rate. But the total and complete satisfaction that burned in me had nothing to do with the lousy sex I had let him give me.

I opened my eyes and inhaled the stale scent of us that lingered in the air and looked at our wrinkled clothes that lay on the floor next to the bed. When I noticed that the snow had begun to fall harder outside the motel window, I quietly slipped out of bed, grabbed my clothes and padded into the crusty-looking bathroom to get dressed. Splashing cold water on my face before pulling on my clothes, I calculated that I had at least three more to go before I stopped.

Or was it two?

Before confronting my husband, I wanted to match the number of names scribbled in the little black notebook I had found deep in his car’s glove compartment behind an almost empty box of Trojans and a pair of sticky pink handcuffs.

Yeah, Merry Christmas Baby.

©2017 Marquessa Matthews. All Rights Reserved.

Monday’s One-Minute Fiction challenges you to write a complete micro-fiction piece in, you guessed it, one minute, no more, no less, based on the prompt provided! Of course, you can come back to edit for grammar & spelling, but the story itself must be written in a minute. Your prompt may be a photo, or a word, or a sentence—whatever inspires me, and hopefully inspires you too.

“Good Dick Is Hard To Find” #lyricalfictionfriday #fictionfriday #holidayshortfiction

This was written for this week’s #LyricalFictionFridayChallenge.

Photo credit: aliciacody via Foter.com / CC BY-NC-ND

Richard is standing behind me and I’m sitting deathly still waiting for him to react. I close my eyes as he leans in and fills my ear with his hot breath.

“No other man could ever do you the way that I do.”

I say nothing.

“How could you do it? Of all the men in this city, you turned to him? If you were unhappy, you should have talked to me!” He slides his hands along my shoulder blades and he pauses dramatically when he reaches the base of my neck. Hopefully, he won’t strangle me.

His voice is barely audible to the people sitting around us. His tone always sends tingles up my spine and makes my skin prickle in a sick yet satisfying way.

“It had nothing to do with not being happy! I just needed…”

“It kills me to know that you let him touch you! You let his hands play with what is rightfully mine. I’m not even sure if I want you back.”

His hands fall away from my neck, slides back down my shoulders and my face flushes with shame.

“I’m sorry. But…but you weren’t around to give me what I needed.”

“So that’s the way you’re going to play this off? You’re blaming me? I was only gone for one week!”

“I know, I’m sorry but…”

“All I keep seeing is his hands running through your hair and…”

Disgust chokes Richard’s words and then there we are, at a quiet standstill.

I can’t lose him, I refuse to lose him. I’ve waited far too long to have a man like this to lose him now. I need to make “us” right. Just being sorry isn’t going to cut it.

That’s when it hits me – I know what I have to do. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

“Richard, I’ll make it up to you.”

“How?”

“Uh…You know that thing you’ve always fantasized doing to me? Well, I’ll let you do it. I’ll let you have your way.”

I keep my eyes shut while I wait for his reaction. A quiet moment passes and once again, his hands find their way back to my shoulders. He squeezes them with anticipation and suddenly his lips are almost pressed against my ear again.

“Really? You’re that sorry?”

I nod.

“I’ll let you do anything you want to me. But one time and one time only. But you can never bring up what I did again and you can never ever kick me to the curb. Agreed?”

“Agreed!”

As I feel the whoosh of the plastic smock sweep across my body to imprison me, I finally raise my eyes and look at his reflection in the mirror facing us. A smile spreads wide across his face as he runs all ten fingers through the hair that I have never let him cut beyond its current shoulder length.

As his hands continue to play, his eyes glaze over as if he is literally turned on by fondling it. I am slightly repulsed at his excitement but feel a little empowered by the hold I seem to have over him in this tiny moment. Like a mad man, Richard’s eyes dart across the array of scissors and on the work space in front me.

“Hmmm…I’ve more than fantasized about giving you a sexy bob cut, hiding the grey and turning you into a fiery hot red-head with a little blond streak. It’s time you get off the grey line and I’ll guarantee that the men will fall in line in no time at all during this holiday season.”

Richard turns to bark orders at one of the many young wanna-be-famous-too assistants to prep me.

“I’m going to do you sooo right that you won’t be able to walk out of this salon!”

I stifle a laugh at how everything Richard says has sexual undertones but is always related to hair.

Like all of the other women submissively waiting their turn with “Good Dick”, the nickname clients called him behind his back, I have no intention of upsetting the apple cart. Never again would I dare have my hair touched by his arch rival across town.

If keeping myself in Richard’s good graces and on the salon’s exclusive client list means giving him my head, I’m prepared to swallow that bitter pill and pay the price of my betrayal because Richard’s hands are pure magic.

And in this city, another Good Dick is hard to find.

All Rights Reserved ©2017 Marquessa Matthews

Pingback to “Dammn Baby”

 

 

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