16 Responses to “July’s Contest: Love in the Making”

1. Chrissy Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 1:51 am

   1 Here’s my effort. —————————– This will be a one night stand. Or rather, just this afternoon. Just this hour. Among the trees, with all the lazy summer sounds around us. Better not get completely naked. Someone might come. Just push down your shorts and lift up your shirt. Ah, yes, like that. Hmmm. Warm skin, prickly hair. Yes, come down here; touch me. I love your hands on me. Rub me. Kiss me. Push my clothes aside. It’s is clumsy and awkward but I love your weight on me and your erection, bumping against me insistently. Oh God, let’s stop this foreplay. I don’t need it. I’m wet and ready and I want you inside me. I know how insane this is and, yes, all the possible consequences. But for now I just don’t care. Your face, haloed by sunshine, dips to kiss me as you slide inside. My legs curl round you. You are stroking in and out and, for a while, I think this is all I need forever. But no, I need you to go faster now, push on, push on. Race me. Make me come. Afterwards, we will fall apart and regret will claim me. For now, I don’t care.

2. Bettie Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 8:39 am

   2 Here’s mine. 200 words, exactly. Ingrid’s gin-and-tonic sat in a puddle on the scarred table—sweating, like everything else. The ice had melted in minutes; nothing could stay cold in this place, nor dry. When she tried to sleep, the sheets and mosquito netting stuck to her skin like wet tissue. The radio hiccoughed. Duke Ellington became noticias; lights flickered, the fans slowed. The generator must want petrol. She’d the tin in her hand when she got outside and heard the generator’s well-fed chug over the jungle’s nighttime chatter. A match flared in the shadow of the pump-house. Ruiz appeared in lantern light, leaning against the steel wall like he’d never left. He’d three days of black stubble, and a sheen of sweat that she wanted to lick off him. Hot breath and hot mouths; he tasted of Scotch, she of gin. Her hands slid from his sweat-slick skin – he’d always been hard to hold onto. “Why’d you return?” Silent, he undid her shirt, baring her body to the thick night air and his dark eyes. She struggled against the heat of his hands. “It’s too hot.” He reversed their positions, pressing her naked skin against the cool steel wall. She sighed. “Better?” “Oh, yes…”

3. Carrie Lofty Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 10:06 am

   3 Marjorie seats me next to Paul. Just coincidence, right? She can’t know what happened after the party. No one knows but Paul and me. I don’t think he’s the kind to tell, but I hardly know him, really. A park bench–what was I thinking? He’d offered to walk with me. My nerves misbehaved like a flasher, giving everything away. I made that crack about protecting me from strangers. He indulged me with a smile, a smile I wanted to taste. One kiss, another, more, and then he took me into his mouth. But tonight it’s dinner with friends. Act natural. Sarah smiles at Paul and I swallow to keep my gazpacho down. My fingers shake. I laugh at Marjorie’s joke, probably too loud. This secret burns like carbonation under my skin. What would he do if I looked at him? Would he smile again or turn away? He drops his napkin. No more, please. I can’t stand it–you leaning down, the back of your neck, the curving stretch of your shoulders. I’m breathless and rock hard. Just pick up the damn napkin, Paul. But he leaves it. And under the table, he kisses the back of my hand.

4. Kelly Schaub Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 12:10 pm

   4 The boy blows a tune on his kaval; a steady theme rises. Magda sways on her feet, eyes glinting in the firelight, scarf slung low across her hips. She positions fingers, legs, draws a veil across one shoulder. Gentle tease of reeds arouses her dance. Patchouli heats on her skin. Old man watches. His fingers roll over the doumbek, a challenge. Boy sees the flirt of hip and breast, curve of arm, flash of ankle, but he doesn’t know, doesn’t see the older magic at work. Goddess rising. God must answer. Were he younger… Her eyes to his, Magda bends to the ground, belly taught, undulating. Veil teasing. Lips against reed flute lose, falter, the boy adrift in her baladi. Old man drums. Slows her, speeds her. She shimmies, isolates, locks to his rhythm. Heart skips, pain climbs in. Blood surges through passages grown dusty. Were he younger… She laughs. Experience pounds through twisted hands. Doom-doom tek-a-tek doom tek-a-tek-tekka faster and faster. She whirls, skirts rising. A final trill, the plateau before explosion. Eyelids heavy, full chest heaving, she shimmies, inches away. Her tang enfolds him. Phallic drum between them, old man slams both hands to the skin. Pop.

5. Noa Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 1:44 pm

   5 He was going crazy in this waiting room. He’d counted the threads of the frayed edge of his chair’s cheap upholstery. He’d gawked up at the vent swirling the hot humid air in the windowless room like some hell spawned milkshake-maker. He’d even picked up a decade old magazine from the pile on the table, unable to do anything but stare unseeing at the same page, trying to keep from bursting into flames from the heat of her gaze. Failing miserably. He couldn’t help himself. He glanced at her again. Only this time, he didn’t look away. Her hair was pulled back in what had to be the severest bun he’d ever seen. Her shirt just might have been a grey sack; it even covered her collar bones. It still made his pulse quicken. There was a tiny bead of sweat by her left temple. It was sliding down slowly. Caressing her pale skin instead of his fingers. Instead of his tongue. The drop clung ,suspended for a moment, to her jaw. His breath hitched. It made its way down, down… torturing him all the way along the length of her throat. He swallowed and looked into her eyes. Oh God.

6. Darragha Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 2:07 pm

   6 Air conditioning on the fritz. Well-heeled soccer moms fussing over bored children in between tennis and music lessons. Instrumental Barry Manilow tunes echoing from steel girder to steel girder and The warm scent of spilled cinnamon and nutmeg permeating the airspace Like an exotic perfume in a desert oasis The freezer case, the most popular aisle in the market. The mist over the vegetable bin, a lifesaver. He oiled his cuc. She ran one finger down the length of its shiny magnificence. The vegetable oil glistened on her fingertip. Their eyes met. A rivulet of sweat trickled off his brow onto his lower lips He licked it away She squeezed the cucumber in her right hand, feeling its firmness, its girth, its chilled sensuality He palmed the ball end of a large eggplant, caressing it with his oily hand She felt that palm In places on her body as round and as soft as the eggplant He glanced at the entrance to the back room. She nodded. She loved being a vegetarian. 170 words. ~~ Darr

7. April Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 6:20 pm

   7 He couldn’t believe it; she was his. So close to her moist lips, her small hand in his, her lower back against his palm, and her summery skirt about his khaki covered knees–if he’d had to choose, he’d have passed her by just to spare himself the torture. But the instructor had said, “Kate will dance with Robert,” and that was that. Kate’s dewy dark eyes sought his, and his heart stopped. He couldn’t remember how they closed the space between them. The scent of vanilla rose like warmth from her skin, and he seemed hyper aware of every goose bump and tiny hair along her cheek and jaw, like pale down on a smooth surface. The pink curves of her ear fascinated him, her wisps of hair a distraction. Unable to fight his racing pulse or the rising heat of his body, he swallowed to moisten a throat gone dry, willed himself to breathe. Then she rested her cheek and chest against him and stole his breath. Her hair smelled like strawberries–his last coherent thought before he felt her heart pounding against his, her soft mouth slide along his sensitive neck. Oh, God. He forgot to dance.

8. Shannon Posted: Jul 2nd, 2007 at 7:36 pm

   8 I’m a bit over, but I couldnt find all that much to cut out after slicing it down from 500 words. Hope thats ok. ——– Jeremy sprawled, taking up half the ice-cream aisle and not really caring. He was enjoying the A/C, the food, and the view. Enjoying it even more as his latest fantasy slid around the corner. Rene. He whispered her name, followed her progress. She thought she was alone, meaning that this time she wouldn’t run. One night stands apparently made her…skittish…despite the fact that Jeremy was looking to extend that one night a little further. He watched her through his eyelashes, unwrapping another ice-cream and finding reason to praise the A/C again. It was doing…things…wonderful things that weren’t exactly being hidden by her T-shirt. His lips parted as he drank her in. Damp tendrils of hair. Skin turned pink from the sun. The tan line that led his eyes down. That strip of flesh across her stomach that had his fingers itching… A gasp jerked his eyes upward. Rene had noticed him. Her eyes were wide, skin blushing beneath her sunburn. Her tongue darted out, wetting dry lips. Her stance shifted as her body tensed. Jeremy smiled the smile he knew set her on edge. Took a lick of his ice-cream. Her hands clenched as her gaze darted to his lips, dropping downward. Against his better judgment his smile widened. The frantic echo of Rene’s flip-flops faded as Jeremy sighed, ruefully glancing down at his lap. It was going to be one long summer…

9. Kaitlin Posted: Jul 3rd, 2007 at 2:04 pm

   9 The club was crowded and bodies pressed tight as music thumped out of the speakers. I saw you on the other side of the room, a bottle in one hand. You were with another woman, but that didn’t mean anything to me. You looked over my way. I winked and smiled. You smiled back and that’s when I knew I had to speak to you. I began to make my way thru the crowd, pushing and shoving when necessary. When I was within a few feet of you, I stopped. I wanted to see what you would do. You set down your bottle and leaned down to say something in her ear. Within seconds, you were standing right in front of me. I opened my mouth to say hello, but you stopped me. You leaned down and touched your lips to mine. I tasted sweat and the slight bitterness of the beer you’d been sipping. My hands linked behind your head and pulled you closer. You were the best kisser I’d ever kissed and I didn’t want it to end. When I couldn’t think straight, you pulled away and smiled. “Kyle.” “Joy.” “Nice to meet you.” “You, too.”

10. Kaitlin Posted: Jul 3rd, 2007 at 2:05 pm

    10 198 words…I’m good! LOL!

11. Samantha Posted: Jul 3rd, 2007 at 7:19 pm

    11 Here’s mine: Her hands felt too cold against the glass of ice water. Her thighs too chill against the slick leather where her skirt wasn’t quite long enough. She squirmed slightly, trying to build some friction, a little heat, distracting herself by glancing to where he stood at the private office bar, back to her, talking into his cell, one hand poised over a glass of bourbon, ice cube in tongs. She silently mourned the loss of its rich, delicious warmth before her very eyes with its splashing release. Ria looked away and focused on warm thoughts, crossing her legs, wishing she’d worn stockings. Rumor was, this building had an exclusive sauna for upper-level execs and visiting VIPs. God, that would be good right now. She shivered and finally put aside the ice water, settling back to think on steaming rocks and snug towels, one eye on her boss where he still spoke quietly, sipping his drink, and watching the cold lights winking in the fabulous view. His hands were big, tan from the sun. She pictured him in a towel, riding low on his sculpted hips and squirmed again. She wondered what he would do if she asked about the sauna.

12. Shiloh Posted: Jul 4th, 2007 at 7:49 am

    12 It’s a little over… Bam, I do so love these contests of yours. ;o) ~*~*~*~*~*~* Gray wasn’t there. He’d said he’d be there, but how many nights had she spent sitting and watching the minutes tick by on the clock…alone? Too many to count. If she didn’t know better, she’d think he had a wife or a girlfriend stashed somewhere. Miserable, she rolled onto her belly. She didn’t need to think about him right now. She had come down here to relax—relax and spend a lot of time with her husband. Sun, sand and a private beach. The first night they’d spent playing in the blue-green waters of the Gulf and then they’d made love on a beach blanket. This vacation should have been paradise…should have… She drifted off into dreams. There were warm hands on her back, slicking sunwarmed oil on her flesh, kneading the tense the muscles. A kiss brushed over her shoulder and then someone murmured against her ear. “Chelsea…” Her eyes flew opened and she rolled over. She saw Gray crouched by her side and instantly she tried to shove him back. He caught her hands and used his body to keep her from rolling off the beach chair. “I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry…” his lips covered hers and once more, she was lost to him. Lost in him.

13. SweetNSourGirl Posted: Jul 4th, 2007 at 1:17 pm

    13 He stared at her for a moment, not believing what his eyes saw. Her body looked like that of carved stone, smooth and unblemished. Her breasts were ripe fruits he wanted to suck. Before he could stop himself, his mouth was there, drinking the wine of her body. She gasped beneath him, whispering his name as if she were afraid the pleasure wouuld become unbareable. His hands slithered down the sides of her body, relishing the smoothness of her skin. Wetness trickled down from her sex. His tongue lapped at her cave, running along every single drop of moisture, his hands curled in her pubic triangle. Her body undulated at his touch. “Please,” she begged. “Do not stop.” He gladly obliged. Suddenly she was screaming above him, riding a wave of bliss. He felt it the wave as well, and was only a surfer along this wave. One moment he could be on the crest, the next he could be on the bottom of the ocean. He collapsed above her, breathing hard and deep. He saw her face lit with euphoria. “Let’s do that again!” 185 words.

14. Meredith Posted: Jul 4th, 2007 at 2:46 pm

    14 He pushed up on one elbow, leaning over her, blocking the sun. “Can I ask you a question?” She stretched, arms reaching above her head, fingers caressing the soft grass beyond the ancient quilt. She opened her eyes, his face inches away. “Sure.” He touched that strong, roman nose to hers, briefly, before tracing it down her cheek and stopping under her ear. A hint of a nuzzle. “Why’d you change your mind?” She reached up, one lazy finger meandering above the neck of his t-shirt. “Curiosity, I suppose.” The finger dipped, outlining his shoulder, running down his bicep. His skin was hot. A little sweaty. “About what?” He pulled away, met her eyes. “There’s this rumor…” Her exploring finger traced the edge of his jeans. She paused briefly before allowing the finger to touch the top of his zipper. “I’m usually more interested in style than substance, but I’m mighty…curious.” He put a hand over hers, pushing the finger—all her fingers—slowly down the front of his pants, pressing the hardness just behind the denim. “Curiosity’s a dangerous thing. The cat….” Her fingers moved, found the zipper, pulled. “I’m willing to take my chances.” Oh, this is SO hard! 196

15. Jackie Posted: Jul 4th, 2007 at 6:25 pm

    15 Okay. Here’s an excerpt from HOTTER THAN HELL. 200 words, exactly. – He laughed, high-pitched, child-like. Musical. “No, my Lord. Not that. I speak of the harmonica.” “And I speak of time.” I kissed his jaw, his neck, stroked him against the rough wool of his clothing. “How much?” “Enough, Lord,” he panted, rubbing against my hand. “Oh God, how I’ve missed you. How I love you.” “Show me.” His tongue attacked me with passion; his lips bruised me with adoration. His fingers, so long and dexterous, able to tease such unearthly melodies from mortal violins, now played over my chest, plucked at the curls nestled there as if they were strings. As he explored my body, I tangled my hands in his fine hair, touched him far more intimately with a whisper of my power—just a soft push, and soon his body was moving next to mine, undulating in a fluid beat of desire. Legato. Every note of pleasure that rang from the lips of the young maestro was a song, espressione. “My Lord,” he groaned. “I need more time.” Ritardando, Lento. “Is this better?” “No, lord, not that. I…” He stilled. Fermata. I waited. A burst of lemon, of orange. He licked his lips. “A few more years. Please.”

16. Jackie Posted: Jul 4th, 2007 at 6:31 pm

    16 “Oh, btw… no works-in-progress, please.” Argh. Okay, never mind. Ignore my entry. Sniffle. I feel so…unworthy… Shit. Back to my novella from Hell. Hah, literally…