50 Word Stories: Enamoured

She flashed one of those come hither looks only girls of a certain allure managed. Without getting out of her chair or even lowering her glass, she'd captured my attention completely. A flash of two green, bejewelled eyes and she thought me hers. Yes, I was enamoured, but never stupid.

50 Word Stories: The Dilemma

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Lust or love?

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Warning or alarm?

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Her eyes appraise as she licks crimson lips.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

She sways like a reed in the wind, unbending.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Pull it together, man.

Thump! Thump! Thump!

Those lips purse.

Thump… … … Damn!


In the pause between breaths
When time stalls
And darkness folds over all

Love, longing, lust

When nightfall comes, hushed
Waiting for that first pinprick star
The moon dipped in cream

Love, longing, lust

The coyotes howl a hello
Dark angels answer in sweat
Sea sips at the shore

Love, longing, lust

This is our midnight crescendo
Orchestrations played on skin
Our bones rattle with it

Love, longing, lust

See you tomorrow


Like a panther, she prowled
Smoke in the dark
A cold surprise
Her regime, destruction
She chose who she wished
Toyed with them
Dark eyes, enticing
Sculpted eyebrows, arching
A flicking tongue tasting the air
Her skirts with their oh-so-precise rips
She drew the eyes of both sexes
Allowed her time she didn’t need
But she’d play the game
Some times
Other times, not
She took a friend of mine
Hunted him
His girlfriend, too
I saw it all, immobilised, struck dumb
She spared me not from pity
But a full stomach
Left to torment and time
By that demoness, that silken raven
Still, I smelled her perfume in the dark hours
Tasted her sweat in the night
Yet said nothing
Though I knew her name
Wished it with all my repentant heart
But dared not…
She’d know
I could not…
She’d come
I would not…
I’m young
Eventually, I said it

At last

Of Death and Desire


I didn’t ask her name, I absorbed it.
“Sestenia,” she purred without moving her lips, her perfect ruby lips.
That was it, the only word she ever spoke. Four syllables rolled over a foreign tongue, sent forth from between pouting, ruby mankillers of want to cascade over this soul. I cannot explain it any other way, for God never provided the means. It was as if I’d been cast into a crimson of ocean of lust and heart and blood, an uncompromising submersion in she with no hope of surviving. I floundered. I fell.
She watched from the shadows with blinking violet eyes; I feared yet remained. The Earth had lost its hold on me, her gravity drawn me in, she the pole to which my compass pointed, my equator, my landfall, my all. I could do nothing but submit to the crescendo of her waves and drown…drown…drown. More pertinent a fact, I wanted to. How I yearned to sink to her abyssal plain and never surface again. If it meant being with her forever, it was worth it.
Aeons past in those few seconds, lifetimes of me and she, of love and life, death and desire. I saw what she had seen, lived what she had ruled through, wept for those she’d lost. She was not the killer, the butchering demon legends told of. Oh, no, she was far from that. She loved every one of them for she shared their blood, their hearts, their souls. She felt them in love and life and death, always and forever. And, there beneath that deadly moon, I was next.
Good. I was ready…

Image found on pixabay

Becalmed, Bewitched, Broken.

Those eyes,
Oceans of violet waves and indigo memories.
How I drowned in her gaze,
A sailor taking one last breath as the sharks nipped at my toes.
Work lungs.
Goddamn it!
The kelp of her long, lustrous eyelashes entangled my heart twisting and turning.
I was but a barnacle, a limpet to her,
Yet like they, I would not let go.
Not yet.
Not ever.
She smiled,
A sweeping tide rushing over my shore, my soul, my everything as I struggled to comprehend all that she was, would and had been.
A goddess with a wry sense to tease her disciples,
She winked.
Time paused.
All others were lost to universal oceans.
All I knew was her.
All I wanted was her.
All I was, was whatever she wanted.
She might have moved as whirlpools of lust sent me spiralling head over heels.
Around and around, I spun,
Dizzy before her as she giggled at my plight,
Covered her mouth in a polite bow to social etiquette.
Then, perhaps in pity,
Perhaps, something else,
She reached out.
Her eyes drew me towards fingertips that teased the promise of more,
And gently, ever so gently, moved me aside.
She swept away to other shores leaving me
Becalmed, bewitched, broken.