23 Responses to “May’s Contest: The First Encounter”

1. Ariel Posted: Apr 29th, 2007 at 10:01 pm

   1 “Shit.” The contents of my backpack were strewn across the rain-slick sidewalk. All I owned had been scattered as I landed, face down, in a puddle. The mascara I’d applied that morning, on a whim, was now smeared across my cheeks. I ignored the hot tears of humiliation that sprung to my eyes, invisible in the rain, and rose to my knees. The clicking of a pair of stiletto heels ticked in my ear, followed by the feather-light touch of a hand on my shoulder. “Damn. Are you okay?” That voice seemed filtered through silk, her eyes, when I saw them, painstakingly chipped out of crystal. Everything about her was polished, refined, cultured. Even her expressions seemed studied, as if based on a Renaissance painting. A slow smile came to her lips as I realized my mouth was hanging open. She laughed softly as her slender finger wiped away my smeared makeup. In that touch, I felt the desire, the energy of Sleeping Beauty awaking from her coma. Her eyes lowered, she took my hand in hers, coaxing me away. All I saw was the sinuous twisting of her shoulders, all I felt, the heat of her hands over mine.

2. Camilla Bartley Posted: Apr 29th, 2007 at 11:50 pm

   2 His hair was longer than she’d remembered. Undetected in the doorway, she was struck by how extraordinary dark he was. His skin, baked a rich, creamy café au lait, and the indolent whiff of spice contrasted with the cold gazes of Lowther ancestors clustered together on the walls of the heavily upholstered library. The swish of her skirts broke the silence; he turned. “Hello Isabel,” Faint lines fanned from the edges of his eyes, his teeth white against his skin as he smiled. She’d imagined her name on his lips many times but the starkness of his hello swept away even her most vivid fantasies. “My lord,” “I’ve yet to become accustomed to being called ‘my lord’. Ironic isn’t it Isabel?” He narrowed his eyes when they caught the unfinished portrait hanging closest to the door. “It was unexpected was it not?” “A chill he’d caught walking through the rain.” His mouth softened from its mockery. “Isabel—“ She turned away, to be caught by her shoulders, his hands searing her skin beneath the barrier of her sleeves. “Isabel.” He murmured huskily. She could feel the burden of shared memories drown her and she could do nothing but give in.

3. Gail Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 2:53 am

   3 The rapid footfalls of her pursuer came to a halt followed by harsh breathing. Even though he’d pursued her, Heather wasn’t afraid of man panting behind her. She knew this with a certainty as intense as the fear that had propelled her from the cathedral. Opening her eyes, Heather turned to face the impossible certainty that the King of Dracovia, Guardian of Kersonov, was the heavy breather. Oh damn! His big magnificent self stood right there, the King of Yummy himself. All six foot three of him frowned down at her. What does an American know about coming face to face with a King? Much less one who’d just chased her across town and looked hugely irritated. Did she bow? Curtsy? Fall to her knees and beg for mercy? None of those options felt right. After all, it wasn’t like she’d tried to meet him. Who had been chasing who? Anger rose to defend her from conflicting emotions. He had no right to scare the freaking hell out of her like that. Heather’s chin notched up as she regarded King Yummy and waited for him to say whatever it was he thought was worth breaking a sweat over.

4. Sam Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 6:28 am

   4 A parking space! Davinia swerved her mini Cooper towards the curb. But a mammoth SUV started to maneuver into the space. Davinia stepped on the gas, squeezing in. The SUV honked and blocked her front door with its wheel. She let herself out the passenger side. “Hey!” She turned, and saw a white shirt. Her eyes traveled up the broad chest to the strong neck and well-shaped head, took in his pirate curls, mulberry eyes, and swarthy skin. “I saw it first.” “You didn’t notice me backing in?” “Nope.” Cars, blocked by the SUV, started to honk, but he just glowered at her. “You are a parking thief.” “You are polluting with your gas guzzling, terrorist funding car. I hope you can live with yourself. Excuse me, I’m late for my meeting.” “Here?” “With Mr. Stephan Fielding, CEO of Eco Enterprises. Something you wouldn’t know about.” He took her hand, his fingers like hot steel. “My car runs on vegetal diesel fuel, and I happen to be Stephan Fielding. Shall we continue this argument in my office?” Davinia’s cheeks burned. She’d never get the job now. But for some reason, she never wanted him to let go of her hand.

5. Kokott Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 7:48 am

   5 Sulking, I dragged myself to the front desk. “I have an appointment with Doctor JamieTamzin.” The receptionist was a perky, plastic-looking thing. She almost poked my eyes out while waving acrylic nails towards the elevator. “Second floor, third door to the left, name’s on the door!” I always try out new dentists. This guy I’d found in my girlfriend’s addressbook, so I thought I’d give it a try. “Won’t you come in?” As I pushed the door open, I almost gasped. Not only was Doctor Jamie Tamzin not a guy, but she was the most stunning woman I had ever seen. Her white coat emphasized her gorgeous chocolate skin, and, hiding behind a soft fringe, were black, voluptuous eyes. “This is your first time here, I gather?” I could not even say anything. As she helped me lie down and leant over me to place a paper towel on my chest, all I could think of was how much I longed to touch her glorious, long legs, how erotic it would be to undress her here, in her office, with family pictures all over the walls, how enticing the soft triangle of flesh revealed by her low-cut top was. “Open wide… A bit wider please.”

6. tumperkin Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 12:21 pm

   6 I can’t say they didn’t warn me about Will. But my God, he was crazy-fucking-beautiful. And on one of those manic highs of his, I swear he could have seduced anyone. I met him at my wedding. It started right then and I can’t accept responsibility. No-one could have resisted him that day. I was standing in the line-up, welcoming the guests, and Will was my best friend’s date. When he arrived in front of me, I found myself looking at the most beautiful male face I had ever seen. Girlish almost, with a cupid’s bow mouth and extravagantly long eyelashes. Silver eyes, like a husky. He stared at me with incredible concentration. For one moment, the world shrank to the two of us; a moment when he leaned forward and whispered in my ear: ‘I think I’ve fallen in love with you’. I almost laughed, but when I drew back and looked into those mercury eyes again, I just - believed him. And I know that he did mean it, right at that moment. That was what was so hypnotic about Will. He was always completely sincere. Only just for a moment.

7. Ann(ie) Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 12:49 pm

   7 Good lord, Tumperkin. What have you written? I want to read it, RIGHT NOW. You are a brilliant writer.

8. Sherry Thomas Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 5:58 pm

   8 It was a dark and stormy night. Seriously, it was, the skies emptying like Mark’s morning piss, loud and endless. I stood in the middle of my front yard, drenched, sodden, so that I didn’t have to admit to myself that I was crying–weeping like a B-actress in an afternoon soap, right after she learned that her husband had impregnated both her sister and her mother, while she herself remained as barren as Jennifer Lopez. “Would you like some tiramisu?” I looked up. It was my next door neighbor, the investment banker. He stood holding the largest umbrella I’d ever seen. In the blazing light of the motion sensors, not a speck of rain dampened his pristine white shirt. He’d moved in a year ago. But I barely knew him. I worked long hours. So did he. Occasionally we passed each other and nodded. And one time I’d asked him a few stock questions at another neighbor’s pool party. “You have tiramisu?” I mumbled, in spite of myself. He smiled. I suddenly realized he was gorgeous. Dark eyes, deep dimples. “I always have tiramisu,” he said. “It’s the only way I get laid.”

9. RaeB84 Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 6:43 pm

   9 Katie had thought it was bad when the man she assumed (okay, hoped) was Jack had just sat there staring back at her, but then she saw the bright blue of his eyes when he pushed the cap up on his forehead and her knees nearly gave out. She couldn’t tell how tall he was, but she still got a fair idea of impressively broad shoulders which stretched and moved seductively beneath his plain white T-shirt, and strong arms that looked like they were from physical labor not from spending hours at a gym. She was Goldilocks and that body was just right. And those eyes. Those eyes were going to get her into some serious trouble. Just looking at him was causing warmth to flood between her thighs. She’d never been a particularly visual person about sex. Porn didn’t tend to turn her on. She wasn’t much for voyeurism. But she decided that maybe she’d been looking in the wrong places, because she was close to imploding on the spot from nothing more than the slightest movement—an almost smile—of Jack’s mouth and the fiery blue of his eyes. Whatever she’d been expecting, this was way better.

10. stephanie feagan Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 8:38 pm

    10 Close to midnight, she starts violently and drops the book when she hears several successive crashes from the living room, the sound of glass breaking, and men’s voices raised in shouts. She recognizes the voice of one of the Secret Service details when he yells, “Andrew – the Mephisto! Run!” Her father’s screaming voice is filled with fear. “Riley, help me! Somebody, help! No! Get away from me! I’m not going to die, I can’t die – not now, not when I’m so close to—” His shouts stop abruptly. Rushing from her room, she darts down the hall to his open doorway and freezes. A man in a black leather duster stands next to her father’s bed, a lethal blade in his hand, blood dripping from the tip. He’s a giant, dressed all in black, his long, dark hair unbound and draped across his mammoth shoulders. Turning toward the door, his expression is stunned as he meets her gaze from across the room. “Holy Christ.” Even in the dim light of the bedside lamp, she can see he’s not an ordinary man. His eyes, black as midnight, reflect the misery of mankind and the darkest corners of hell.

11. Ann Bruce Posted: Apr 30th, 2007 at 8:45 pm

    11 She liked bondage as much as the next girl. Cleo Moran, however, didn’t think her current bound state was a prelude to more enjoyable things. She yanked on the rope that secured her hands together and tethered them to something above her head. There was a little give as the cloth-covered rope stretched, but not nearly enough. Stubbornness being a trait of all Moran women, she tried again. And again. And again. And again. A small noise of frustration escaped her throat. Deciding she needed more leverage, she twisted on the bed and sat up. And noticed the man seated on the armchair in the far corner of the darkened room. He was immersed in the shadows so she saw nothing but a menacing outline that was blacker than the surrounding darkness. The silent regard felt like a thick blanket suffocating her senses. Fear made her mouth go dry and her skin prick with heat and sweat. It was a full minute before she found her voice, a little hoarser than usual, but still managed to lift her chin. “Did you enjoy the show?” “Not yet.”

12. Carrie Lofty Posted: May 1st, 2007 at 3:53 am

    12 Only when his opponent fell to the earthen road, lifeless, did Hugh look at the woman. She knelt, eyes downcast. The worn, saffron-colored cowl draped to her shoulders, framing long features and wide, thin lips. He reached for her. Flinching and screaming again, she pitched against his knees. The unexpected assault upset Hugh’s balance. He toppled him to the ground, breath erupting from his lungs in a hard exhale. The woman landed astride his chest and slammed a fist into his ear. He grunted in pain, then roared when another fist connected with his shoulder wound. Enraged and suffering, he flipped her away. The miniature drama of their struggle gained an audience. Braddock’s shouts to his remaining forces burned Hugh’s brain, banished thought. Only instinct remained. Claiming the woman’s wrists, he dragged her to the horse. The agonizing ache of his injury made him clumsy, but dread pumped strength into every movement. He propelled his charge and her entangling skirts into the saddle and mounted behind her. “Leave me go!” Curled, dark hair poked from the cowl, tickling his nose. She smelled of dry leaves, sunshine…and vinegar? He clamped her to his chest. “Without lies, I mean you no harm.”

13. LadyRhian Posted: May 1st, 2007 at 10:33 am

    13 I marched towards my car, pissed as hell that one moment of inattention had cost me my job. My job! Six years of effort gone down the tubes thanks to my loony boss and his Venti Latte. My lips twitched for a moment. Though seeing him covered with brown sludge and foam from neck to knees was almost worth losing my job. Almost. By the curb, I stopped. A pair of jeans painted over a tight, rounded ass and muscular thighs grabbed my attention like a fist to the gut. The SUV I had parked next to this morning was gone, replaced by some little Italian Hot Rod in bright, candy-apple red. But all was not well in car-dom, for the hood was wide open like a gaping mouth, and a half-naked man was bent over the engine, working on it in full view of the world. His body was sheathed in hot California sunshine, turning his already-bronzed upper body to gold, gleaming with a coating of honest sweat. As I watched, he paused and grabbed the bottle of water he’d placed on the top of the engine and upended it over his mink-brown hair, splattering his body with another layer of wetness. His eyes, a part of me noted, were crystal-blue. But the rest of me was too busy humming at his presence, and the splash of water over his body was echoed by a spreading heat and moisture between my thighs. God, I wanted to hold him down and bathe him with my tongue… I wanted to taste every inch of his skin, savor the space between his muscles, caress the ribs where the streaks of dirt and oil rode counterpoint to his golden beauty, feel those muscular thighs work against the back of my own as he rammed deep inside of me from behind. Oh, I wanted… I must have made some kind of noise, because the next thing I noticed… was him, *noticing* me. His lips curled as I staggered off the curb in my suddenly too-high heels and had to lean against his car for balance. My mouth seemed inclined to blurt inanities. “Hot day, isn’t it?” My brain screamed at my mouth for being so stupid, but what else was I to do?

14. Shiloh Walker Posted: May 1st, 2007 at 7:45 pm

    14 Bam… you’d be so proud of me. I actually watched my word count this time around. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ She was perfect. The one he had waited ages for. The scent of her blood beckoned. Her skin gleamed soft, almost luminescent and he could already taste her. He eased closer and scanned his surroundings. What he was doing was so dangerous. So very dangerous. Many of his kind died seeking out a woman as sweet and perfect as this. It was worth it though. He could see her watching him, watched as she wet her lips with her tongue, tugged at the skinny strapped tank top that clung to soft, supple curves. The pulse of life he sensed there would be his undoing. He had to have her. Had to have her now…he eased closer, watching…waiting….aware of the danger. She could kill him with just one slap of her hand. He’d risk it…for just one sip of her blood. … …… Sometimes, though, being a mosquito sucked. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~* okay, okay, maybe it’s not totally first encounter-esque…or the norm at least. But I was in a goofy mood.

15. Devon Posted: May 1st, 2007 at 7:58 pm

    15 Deana sipped her drink sourly as yet another shrieking, little black dress clad blonde pushed by her. She was feeling surly, no other word for it. Why had she come to her high school reunion again? Fifteen minutes around these people and ten years fell away. Her normal good humor and confidence were crushed by sudden overwhelming sensations of disgust, disdain and intense insecurity. Deana’s lip began to curl even as she wanted to turn and run out the door. Good Lord, these people haven’t changed a bit, she thought. Still unbearably perfect and cheesy and obnoxious. The women hadn’t fared too badly, but what the hell had happened to the guys? Most of them looked rather…puffy, at the ripe old age of 28. Too much beer? Stressful careers? Whatever the reason, to have jowls at such a young age was a sad thing, and Deana was only slightly ashamed to be pleased by it. As the pounding music segued from EMF’s “Unbelievable” into “Groove is in the Heart,” Deana desperately looked around the room, looking for someone, anyone to share her pain. All around her women jiggled in groups and flushed men did the drunken white boy sway (feet planted firmly on the ground). Suddenly the crowd parted and a red beam of light shone down (as if from the heavens) upon a the tall, straight form of a golden boy. No chubby cheeks or overhanging belly for this one. Time had made this one even more gorgeous, his cheekbones sharper, his jawbone more chiseled. His bright blue eyes scanned the room as he smiled and nodded, half-listening to some vaguely familiar guy. Deana felt her mouth go dry. Funny how, after all this time, her first reaction to Chris Peters was the same. Damn, she wanted to kick that guy in the balls.

16. tumperkin Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 6:04 am

    16 Thanks Annie. Your kind words have helped me reach an important decision: I DO deserve that last flapjack. Yum.

17. Bettie Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 12:18 pm

    17 In another time and place, they would have been lovers. If they’d met on the street or in a smoky bar some Saturday night, Arden wouldn’t have hesitated to lock his gaze, lick her lips, and move in for the metaphorical kill. But tonight, the kill was all too literal. He was asleep, but his eyes snapped open when she tightened her garrote. God and the Devil, what a beautiful man! Coal black hair; ice blue eyes; firm lips that she longed to taste before the life went out of him. He even struggled beautifully. “I’m sorry.” She’d never apologized to a kill before. “I wish things were different.” His last breath came with a sputter of blood. She kissed his parted lips. He tasted of coppery cold blood, of smoke and whiskey. His heart was motionless beneath her hand, but Arden imagined she felt it beat. She closed her eyes. And then she was on her back, pinned by the muscled weight of his body. Below his square jaw, the mark of her garrote had healed to a thin pink scar that curved upward toward his ears; a gruesome parallel of the smile that curved his blood-flecked lips.

18. SweetNSourGirl Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 12:57 pm

    18 Supermarkets are anything but super. They should be renamed Soul-sucking markets with the angry customers yelling at the cashiers, the kids screaming with melted chocolate bars clenched in their fists and the annoying idiots who don’t know how to manuver a shopping cart properly. Why do I put up with it? Because I need food and I don’t have the cash for take out Chinese. A guy with a black leather jacket and an over expensive haircut cut in front of me in the produce aisle. As a native New Yorker, I don’t have to put up with this shit. “Hey, buddy, move out of the way. I was here first.” He turned around, his thick eyebrows waggled at me. “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” He turned around and grabbed his oranges. WHAM! I shoved my shopping cart into his back, knocking oranges on the floor and him flat on his ass. I grabbed my grapefruit and zipped out. Except my ankle was caught by a muscular hand. “Just who do you think you are, lady?” “Amy. Who the hell are you?” “Prince Charming.”

19. electrise Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 1:05 pm

    19 He saw her standing on the cliff, the peach satin of her dress shining in the moonlight. For the whole torturous night, he had been unable to stop watching her. Olyimpia had dragged him there tonight, insisting that he get out of the house and escort her to the ball. Or that which passes for a ball now–sad times, he thought. But there were things he was willing to do only for his favorite sister–so he let her drag him, pale skinny junior boy in a tattered black Victorian frock coat, to the senior prom. Olyimpia had worn something vintage and ostentatious, but even so he had managed to lose her in the crowd and watched miserably until he saw the other, beautiful wallflower–wallblossom, peach-blossom, he thought–slip out the door. So he had followed her, lagging slightly behind, out the hotel doors and down the path to the cliffs. He slid behind a tree, watching as she reached into her full skirt and took out a bottle. Tipping her throat back, she took a long swallow of the amber liquid and, placing the bottle down beside her, began to twirl slowly, face up to the moon, eyes closed. Stepping ever closer to the edge. His heart beat faster as he watched her. Oh, unendurable! He ran to her, leaving his hiding place behind. “What are you doing?” he asked hoarsely. Her head whipped around to face him. She had the grey eyes of something feral and fey. “What are you?” she whispered. “The person who won’t let you jump.”

20. kate r Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 1:14 pm

    20 I got nothing but I vote for Shiloh even though it’s the female m’s that do the blood sucking, dammit. And my feeble attempt at covers sucked. You so very much need to snark a cover for me, Bam. Please? Call it an early birthday present for me and I’ll be so happy. It would make my day.

21. kate r Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 1:19 pm

    21 These are great entries by the way. Fine response to your challenge. And Bam….if you’re not in the mood to do cover snark, maybe you can strong arm Bettie (who’s got an entry above) into posting in her blog again. What is it with you people who get us addicted and then wander off?

22. Lacey Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 2:06 pm

    22 Akin to the predator she resembled, her gaze never wavered. Jonathan’s heart calmed despite. She was real. He acknowledged a part of him had believed she wouldn’t be, for how could such a creature exist in the regimented and manicured society of Little Bingford? He continued to gawk, aware he did so but unable to help himself. She returned his gaze, chocolate tip-tilted eyes regarding him with an intelligence he reserved for Cambridge scholars and crafty social-climbing females. Her caramel skin glowed with recent exertion as she shook out her collapsing braid. She paused in her finger-combing as her sensuous lips parted beneath his intense regard. She shifted. He started. A knowing smile crinkled her eyes. She swung her doeskin-clad legs over the branch to sit fully on the tree. “You are the new estate manager?” Her voice flowed warm and throaty, the tinge of an accent rolling off her tongue. “My humblest apologies,” Jonathan answered in affronted, aristocratic tones. “Do I resemble an estate manager?” Her lips turned up in a feral smile. “Do I look like one who knows what an estate manager looks like?”

23. CJ Posted: May 2nd, 2007 at 3:53 pm

    23 Three hours into my garage sale he brings up my shoebox of CDs. “You’re getting rid of these?” His dark hair curls over his ears, and his gem-like hazel eyes give him a harsh masculine beauty I’d imagine a Renaissance painter might love to capture. “Everything must go.” I say sadly, looking at his curvy shoulders in the sunlight. That skin would be hot to the touch. And smooth. He pulls out one of my favorites. “I used to love this one and I lost it. And this!” “Five bucks for the box.” I sigh. “Your lucky day.” “I’ll play them for my date tonight.” He pulls out a fun one. “This when she walks in.” He looks at me and whispers, “She’s beautiful.” He selects an obscure one. “A little dinner music.” “Nice choice.” He takes out another. “Foot massage.” I laugh. “The whole CD?” “Oh yeah.” I swallow. At least somebody’s having fun tonight. I flip through the box. “Then this.” “Oooh. Slow. Sweet. A little wild.” My face reddens. I’ve revealed my favorite music for sex to a perfect stranger. He looks at me—it’s like he can see right into me. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”