Saturday's #AfterDark Moment - Silk and Sows

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The ribbon was beautiful but useful, just like she was. The men might see nothing but a woman, someone to be used and discarded, but she was more. She was a boon to the man who took her. Wealthy and intelligent, she had turned a sow's ear into more silk purses than she could count. Obviously she couldn't transform a sow's ear, but she could trade it for a scrap and thread. She had built herself, her dowry, from the scraps her father left. As a girl, she had passed for a boy, making the necessary purchases and sales. No man would own her as long as she knew how to make her own way.

Fanny held her dress up and Sarah stuck her hands through as the fabric fell around her covering the corset. It was another symbol. There was more beauty beneath. The shell was just that, the outward face she displayed for all to see. Beneath was her heart. She could be the refined Miss Mae or she could be the urchin Billy Jo, beneath she was always Sarah.

"Don't think you're going a mite overboard?" Fanny asked, lacing up the dress as tightly as the corset.

"Not a lick. This is my chance to meet Mister Brown and trip him into falling for me. I'm not about to skimp on detail." She perched on a stool to apply her cosmetics. Fanny began working her hair. "If I land this, Fanny, we'll be made."

The old hag smiled, softening her garish features as they were reflected in her looking glass. "You made yourself a long time ago, Miss Mae."

She smiled back. "I suppose, but this will make me for life." She touched her lips together, kissing her reflection. "There has to be an easier way," she thought, lining one eye. "Why couldn't I have been the son my father wanted." That thought had haunted her since his death. It was stupid. She couldn't change who she was anymore than she could make the sow's ear something it wasn't. She simply had to use what she had. And by God, she was going to use it all tonight.

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Read all the AfterDark moments via the Linky.

#FFF Flasher Fiction Friday- Afraid

She held the blade like a weapon as the winter fae approached. They would not get her. She wouldn’t let them take her baby. The baby that froze her middle and made her mind scream. She used that and screamed at them.

“My father will kill you all!”

“Listen to me, Verte,” the grey fairy called from the midst of them. “We aren’t here to hurt you. Trust me.”

“Trust you? You’re the one who did this to me! Stay back!” The bushes here were only twigs, the birds carrion feeders, but she used Summer magic on both, shielding herself.

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#ThursdayThrills - Reflections

She didn’t look dead. How else could she hold so still in such an obviously uncomfortable position. Her eyes weren’t closed. Wouldn’t she have closed her eyes? One, two, three. By sixty, there’s little doubt. I sink to the pavement, not knowing what I can or should do. I didn’t kill her. I’m not even the first to find her. Someone beside me is on his phone. He sounds like he’s fighting panic. I’m not in a panic. I’m cold, and there is a knot in my stomach that makes it hard to breathe, but no panic. Dread. Why should I dread? I’m not the one on the counter staring out at an uncaring world with lifeless eyes. 

Or am I? The knot coils tighter and I feel like I might turn inside out. I put my hands to the glass that reflects the clouds above. I need something solid, something stable, something besides the concrete.

My hands pass through and I look up my arms, my bare arms. Then down, the same dress.
No, it can’t be. She doesn’t look anything like me. She has lank tangled hair while mine is fluffed and wavy. She has pale skin, but mine is rosy, flush. Her eyes seem empty, reflective. I look into the glass for my reflection, to see my eyes.

Nothing. I’m not in the reflection. I AM the reflection.

No. I am not dead. I storm through the window and the house. Who did this? Who is responsible? I am not going to just stand around and be dead. I gasp when I enter the next room. It is good this one isn’t visible from the window or the man on the phone would be more panicked. Blood smears the wall, the bed. Ricky lays in a pool of his own blood on the floor. On the nightstand is a glass next to a bottle of pills, the ones he gave me. The ones he said would make everything okay.

Blackness. I can’t see the room, or either corpse. It’s dark and empty, but I hear screaming, Ricky screaming.

“Wait! Trish! Don’t do it! It’s me. Remember? It’s Ricky.” Then more screaming and yells to stop.

Color returns in a flood, first red, then yellows, greens and blues. First the blood, then the earth and sky. He couldn’t have known. Neither of us could have known what that white pill would do in combination with the pink ones I took every day. Was it the interaction that stopped my heart, or the reality of what I’d done when I recovered enough to know?

I’ll never know. And neither will anyone else.

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Check out all the Thursday Thrills by stopping at the blog.

#HDH Hump Day Hook - Kitten

Today's Hook comes from the first of the Blue Moon House prequels. This is from Jocelyn's point of view. Remember, I'm not alone in this. Be sure to check out the other great hooks by visiting the blog.

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The door was opened by a young woman with shining black hair and the most striking blue eyes Jocelyn had ever seen. The color didn't look natural. Nothing she'd learned in her six years of biology and medical studies could explain them. Her satin dressing robe was closed, but left little to Jocelyn's imagination as to what was beneath it.

“Yes? Are you sure you have the right house?” The woman spoke with a slight accent — Spanish or Italian, Jocelyn couldn't say. However, she knew she wanted inside.

“I believe I do. May I come in?”

Those brilliant eyes looked over Jocelyn slowly, starting at her crown and moving down over her spring duster to her buttoned boots.

“Take off your coat for me,” the woman demanded.

#TantalyzingTuesday - Leashed

Tonight, both Will and Sophia told her, the second barrier would come down. Will had managed to make her climax on his finger using nothing else but his saliva. Granted, that was a potent addition, but no clitoral stimulation, no vaginal—he didn't even fondle her breasts. He simply kissed her and worked his finger in her ass.
That time it had been a single finger. More didn't hurt, and she didn't fear that, but it didn't feel as good.
Philip wore a leather collar around his neck. It had a metal loop in it, like a leash for an animal. In her time, Jocelyn had seen many of the people moving between the kitchen or the parlor and their rooms. She'd never seen anything like that on them. One had worn a silver chain like a choker, something similar to the gold one she had on her first visit. That was the only reason she had noticed it.
Jocelyn's mouth fell open when Sophia released a length of leather that must have attached behind Philip's head. He really was on a leash. A crack broke the silence as Sophia struck him on the back of his legs with the leather.

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Kitten doesn't have a collar. Will exerts himself in other ways. Want another 200 words? Hit the blog and read them all!

Beautiful - The Word Count Podcast

If you've never heard of R.B. Wood and his podcast, I recommend heading there now. I participated for the first time this week, reading the first half of Beautiful. I thought I could read the whole thing, but I ended up with 10 minutes LONG before the end. So, I'm posting the entire story here.

Saturdays #AfterDark - Embrace the Cold

This is my first go here. I know mine are not always the most erotic flashes, but well, here we go! Remember to check out all the other AfterDark piece by visiting Ray Sostre's page.

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Water swirled around her ankles, cold but her feet were used to it. It was colder when the lake water ebbed back, leaving her toes exposed to the air.
She walked along the edge, pretending not to notice anything around her, but how could she not hear them? They whooped and hollered like a pack of animals. She didn't look at them, refusing to acknowledge the boys. They were all facing away, so they wouldn't know she was snubbing them anyway.
"Haha! Look at that!" one called and Marla was foolish enough to peek at them. They hung upside down in their swings, staring straight at her.
"My hood's in the sand!" another one yelled.
"Forget the sand." The third pulled hard on the chains of the swing stopping himself. Marla felt her muscles coil and she pulled her hands into her chest. "I want some of that." He jumped off and spun, his friends slowing behind him. He sprinted, his own bare feet gripping the sand as well as hers.
She dug in her toes and ran, afraid.
"We won't hurt you," the one in the lead said.
"Much," his friend taunted. Marla ran faster. She couldn't possible run fast enough. The boys ran up alongside her. Maybe they were afraid of the cold, she thought. Turning, she dived into the lake, clothes tugging her down. They were easier to fight than boys. She spluttered, but didn't come up until she was far enough to tread water.
"Have a good swim, little mermaid."
"We'll catch you next time."
There wouldn't be a next time. Not if Marla could help it.