Comments on: May’s Contest: The First Encounter http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/ it's not chick porn Fri, 05 Dec 2008 10:02:06 +0000 http://wordpress.org/?v=2.0.5 by: CJ http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9775 Wed, 02 May 2007 23:53:31 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9775 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.” 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.”

]]> by: Lacey http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9774 Wed, 02 May 2007 22:06:23 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9774 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?” 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?”

]]> by: kate r http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9773 Wed, 02 May 2007 21:19:03 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9773 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? 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?

]]> by: kate r http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9772 Wed, 02 May 2007 21:14:53 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9772 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. 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.

]]> by: electrise http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9771 Wed, 02 May 2007 21:05:16 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9771 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." 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.”

]]> by: SweetNSourGirl http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9770 Wed, 02 May 2007 20:57:56 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9770 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." 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.”

]]> by: Bettie http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9769 Wed, 02 May 2007 20:18:06 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9769 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. 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.

]]> by: tumperkin http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9766 Wed, 02 May 2007 14:04:02 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9766 Thanks Annie. Your kind words have helped me reach an important decision: I DO deserve that last flapjack. Yum. Thanks Annie. Your kind words have helped me reach an important decision: I DO deserve that last flapjack. Yum.

]]> by: Devon http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9761 Wed, 02 May 2007 03:58:15 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9761 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. 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.

]]> by: Shiloh Walker http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9760 Wed, 02 May 2007 03:45:21 +0000 http://dionnegalace.com/wordpress/2007/05/01/mays-contest-the-first-encounter/#comment-9760 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. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~* <em> okay, okay, maybe it's not totally first encounter-esque...or the norm at least. But I was in a goofy mood.</em> 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.

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