The "Creative Writing" forum, which includes Retro Game Reviews, has been archived and is now read-only. You cannot post here or create a new thread or review on this forum.
(eyes)
The marks on her knees say it all: she’s been worshipping someone’s god in her own inimitable way.
She sits on the middle portion of the settee revealing a glimpse of shaven crotch before slowly crossing her legs.
“So, what have you been up to this night?” he asks in fake oblivion, knowing darn well.
“I’ve just been round Sal’s,” she replies.
With eyes askance he watches her left middlefinger twirl a strand of freshly blanched hair.
“Oh,” he mumbles, pretending to be only half-interested.
(eyes dismissively blink – eyes look away)
He feels for the security of the TV remote, his gaze focusing on the tip of her tongue as it flitters across her top lip.
The doorbell rings. The dog starts yapping.
“I’ll get it!” she says, springing to her feet, briskly straightening her mildly crumpled miniskirt.
He observes the back of her tanned legs as she exits the room – the heels of her stilettos leaving transient indentations on the carpet.
Staring at the weak flames of the gas fire, he cöcks a burning ear toward the hallway.
(hushed chatter – indistinct)
Moments pass . . . until –bumph– she pops her head around the door: “It’s Sal and her friend. We’re going upstairs.
He nods and smiles. (He didn’t mean to.)
She closes the door with an unintentionally brutal slam.
(shut out)
He listens to the melee of footfalls interlaced with energized whispers and playful laughter.
(eyes tired – bloodshot)
Rubbing his brow, he switches on the TV, turns up the volume and begins flicking through the 800 meaningless channels.
When he agreed to an open relationship, this was not what he had in mind.
The marks on her knees say it all: she’s been worshipping someone’s god in her own inimitable way.
She sits on the middle portion of the settee revealing a glimpse of shaven crotch before slowly crossing her legs.
“So, what have you been up to this night?” he asks in fake oblivion, knowing darn well.
“I’ve just been round Sal’s,” she replies.
With eyes askance he watches her left middlefinger twirl a strand of freshly blanched hair.
“Oh,” he mumbles, pretending to be only half-interested.
(eyes dismissively blink – eyes look away)
He feels for the security of the TV remote, his gaze focusing on the tip of her tongue as it flitters across her top lip.
The doorbell rings. The dog starts yapping.
“I’ll get it!” she says, springing to her feet, briskly straightening her mildly crumpled miniskirt.
He observes the back of her tanned legs as she exits the room – the heels of her stilettos leaving transient indentations on the carpet.
Staring at the weak flames of the gas fire, he cöcks a burning ear toward the hallway.
(hushed chatter – indistinct)
Moments pass . . . until –bumph– she pops her head around the door: “It’s Sal and her friend. We’re going upstairs.
He nods and smiles. (He didn’t mean to.)
She closes the door with an unintentionally brutal slam.
(shut out)
He listens to the melee of footfalls interlaced with energized whispers and playful laughter.
(eyes tired – bloodshot)
Rubbing his brow, he switches on the TV, turns up the volume and begins flicking through the 800 meaningless channels.
When he agreed to an open relationship, this was not what he had in mind.
Page:
Im going to write my tonight and add a Sal.
C®ø§$ Bób wrote:
> So who used Sal first?
Mine was originally Sam, but I read Ineedsleep's story then changed it to Sal, so there would be two Sals. Maybe your story should feature a Sal too, then there'd be three Sals. Everyone's story should have a Sal in it. That'll confuse Asher.
> So who used Sal first?
Mine was originally Sam, but I read Ineedsleep's story then changed it to Sal, so there would be two Sals. Maybe your story should feature a Sal too, then there'd be three Sals. Everyone's story should have a Sal in it. That'll confuse Asher.
Ant wrote:
> I don't know whether I was supposed to, but I found it kind of
> amusing.
I think I started off trying to be serious, and then it slow-ly slipped into my usual territory of being 'serious about not being serious' - if you know what I mean...
> I don't know whether I was supposed to, but I found it kind of
> amusing.
I think I started off trying to be serious, and then it slow-ly slipped into my usual territory of being 'serious about not being serious' - if you know what I mean...
I like it was very good. So who used Sal first?
Oooh, very visual, and stimulating. ;)
I don't know whether I was supposed to, but I found it kind of amusing. Especially the final line, very enjoyable.
I don't know whether I was supposed to, but I found it kind of amusing. Especially the final line, very enjoyable.
Wow - that Sal doesn't half get around. Such a frisky little minx :D
(eyes)
The marks on her knees say it all: she’s been worshipping someone’s god in her own inimitable way.
She sits on the middle portion of the settee revealing a glimpse of shaven crotch before slowly crossing her legs.
“So, what have you been up to this night?” he asks in fake oblivion, knowing darn well.
“I’ve just been round Sal’s,” she replies.
With eyes askance he watches her left middlefinger twirl a strand of freshly blanched hair.
“Oh,” he mumbles, pretending to be only half-interested.
(eyes dismissively blink – eyes look away)
He feels for the security of the TV remote, his gaze focusing on the tip of her tongue as it flitters across her top lip.
The doorbell rings. The dog starts yapping.
“I’ll get it!” she says, springing to her feet, briskly straightening her mildly crumpled miniskirt.
He observes the back of her tanned legs as she exits the room – the heels of her stilettos leaving transient indentations on the carpet.
Staring at the weak flames of the gas fire, he cöcks a burning ear toward the hallway.
(hushed chatter – indistinct)
Moments pass . . . until –bumph– she pops her head around the door: “It’s Sal and her friend. We’re going upstairs.
He nods and smiles. (He didn’t mean to.)
She closes the door with an unintentionally brutal slam.
(shut out)
He listens to the melee of footfalls interlaced with energized whispers and playful laughter.
(eyes tired – bloodshot)
Rubbing his brow, he switches on the TV, turns up the volume and begins flicking through the 800 meaningless channels.
When he agreed to an open relationship, this was not what he had in mind.
The marks on her knees say it all: she’s been worshipping someone’s god in her own inimitable way.
She sits on the middle portion of the settee revealing a glimpse of shaven crotch before slowly crossing her legs.
“So, what have you been up to this night?” he asks in fake oblivion, knowing darn well.
“I’ve just been round Sal’s,” she replies.
With eyes askance he watches her left middlefinger twirl a strand of freshly blanched hair.
“Oh,” he mumbles, pretending to be only half-interested.
(eyes dismissively blink – eyes look away)
He feels for the security of the TV remote, his gaze focusing on the tip of her tongue as it flitters across her top lip.
The doorbell rings. The dog starts yapping.
“I’ll get it!” she says, springing to her feet, briskly straightening her mildly crumpled miniskirt.
He observes the back of her tanned legs as she exits the room – the heels of her stilettos leaving transient indentations on the carpet.
Staring at the weak flames of the gas fire, he cöcks a burning ear toward the hallway.
(hushed chatter – indistinct)
Moments pass . . . until –bumph– she pops her head around the door: “It’s Sal and her friend. We’re going upstairs.
He nods and smiles. (He didn’t mean to.)
She closes the door with an unintentionally brutal slam.
(shut out)
He listens to the melee of footfalls interlaced with energized whispers and playful laughter.
(eyes tired – bloodshot)
Rubbing his brow, he switches on the TV, turns up the volume and begins flicking through the 800 meaningless channels.
When he agreed to an open relationship, this was not what he had in mind.
Page: