Just call me Britney (of the Oops, I Did It Again fame). Boy, do I need a vacation. (Not from writing or Tuesday Tickles, just from everything else. A week on the beach with the cabana boy would be nice. 🙂 )
A little more from the calendar shoot. I’m still mucking around with how Seth is posed, but I kind of like this one. (I’m still hemming and hawing about the choice to use the word ‘fruity’, too.) I’m also just realizing how many s sounds there are in that first sentence. *makes note to self* Oh, and a repeated word… *blushes* Wow, there’s a lot to fix in this. 😛
The way they’d set up the rigs, he could see where they’d set the stretcher out in the sunshine. Seth sat on the mattress and swung his legs up. The photographer handed him a pair of black Blues Brothers sunglasses and a tropical looking drink in a martini glass, an umbrella hanging drunkenly off one side. Seth laughed, put on the sunglasses and leaned back on the stretcher with one hand behind his head. It made the muscles in his arm stand out and, when the photographer had arranged his other arm the way he wanted it, fruity-looking drink held casually between Seth’s fingers, the paramedic looked like sex on a stretcher.
And Cody’s fingers itched to touch.
My firefighter, paramedic, genie short. Lol. The Erotica writers of Absolute Write are at it again–another anthology to support the forum. This time, we’re working on the colours red, blue, green, and black. I’m thinking about throwing another one in for black, but it’s a side-story from something else I’m working on and I’m not sure what I want to do with it yet.
So, Cody doesn’t know he’s purchased a genie in a dusty old bottle. He washes it and…
“Damn soap.” He rinsed the bottle off, dried the stopper, and braced it between his knees. This time, the stopper slid out easily. Too easily, because he nearly punched himself in the face. Standing straight again, he turned the stopper over and frowned at the foggy crystal.
“Well, you didn’t think I was going to let you open it while it was in the sink, do you? That would be all I’d need—a century of being stuck in my bottle, ended by the equivalent of a biblical flood. With soap. Yuck.”
Cody dropped the bottle and spun around. The bottle hit the floor, but instead of breaking, it bounced twice and settled sturdily on its base. He looked up from that amazing circumstance to see something even more amazing.
Standing in the middle of his kitchen was a man. A short, slender man wearing a bright orange shirt that stopped inches above the waist of his ragged skinny jeans and, incongruously, a pair of two hundred dollar sneakers. His scorching red hair was clipped on one side and long enough on the other to fall over his eyes. The guy grinned and waved cheerily at him. “Well, maybe not entirely a century. Sure felt like it, though. Boring in there.”