Chapter One: Just One Night

I wasn’t able to do what I set out to do. I want to do this as a short story serial, but the companies available aren’t quite the right fit. However, I have another one that may work, but there’s an application process. I don’t want to wait any longer. I think you guys have waited long enough.

While I’m working on other options, let’s begin on this erotic adventure. (I would recommend if you don’t like romance that leans more toward erotica, then this may not be the story for you.) Otherwise, check it out and let me know what you think in the comments.

Venise is a woman on the edge. She has a no-strings attached creed. She’s all work and no play though that line gets blurry at times. In this chapter, she is doing one of her usual things to relax: wedding crashing.

Here’s Just One Night: Chapter One “Caught in a Web.” 

Chapter One Just One Night

She stretched her leg up to the barstool, hiking the already dangerously short front of her siren red dress. The gulps in the room were almost audible. She smirked, well aware of the attention. She leaned forward and gave the bartender a little show while she lifted her finger for another drink. The young man fell over himself trying refresh the whiskey sour she’d been sipping on all night.

From the doves being released after he kissed the bride, to the flower girl who’d been too shy to walk down the aisle by herself, the wedding was typical. The entire evening had clearly been for the bride, from the fuchsia fluffy decorations to her now-husband’s matching cummerbund. The waiters were perfectly unobtrusive while weaving in and out of the crowd with trays weighed down by hor d’oeuvers and complimentary champagne flutes. The evening had started winding down, with the bridesmaids and groomsmen finding nooks and crannies to hook up in. Grandpas and grannies were having their last cocktail of the evening and the creeps were in full swing.

A hand snaked around to grab her arm close to her breast. Too close. Her eyes narrowed. She turned to see the same asshole who’d been hassling her all night, still not taking the hint. She grunted in annoyance. She really wasn’t in the mood for this.

“Hey, how about me and you see what kind of freaky thangs we can do in my van?” His gold tooth shone in the light.

“We are cousins, Harry. Get the fuck out of here.” She tried to shrug him off, but his hand tightened. He was stomping on her last nerve. Causing a scene would not further her objective.

“We twice removed or some shit. Now c’mon girl. I know you ain’t shy.” She hoped his Afro Sheen wouldn’t drip on her dress as she rolled her eyes.

“Your mom is my mom’s aunt. The only removed is you getting your old, drunk ass on.” She’d said her dad was his mother’s cousin before. He was just getting drunker and bolder by the minute.  She pulled her arm again and he yanked back. His fingers tightened, digging in. She bared her teeth.

“Hey, if you gonna dress like that, then you even giving it or selling it. Now which is it?” He leered, actually leered at her, and made a move for her tit. She was reaching back to get the drink that was sitting on the bar to bash him in the face with it, when Mr. Tall, Dark, and Where The Hell Did He Come From, swung Harry around and popped him once in his jaw. He slithered to the ground, an ungainly lump of shiny blue polyester. She stifled the urge to rub her arm. It felt like he’d left a greasy imprint there.

“Are you alright?” His voice was as dark as his skin, though his eyes had this silver look to them that showed someone had dipped into a lighter gene pool at some point in his genetic history.

She shrugged. “Yeah, I’m fine and I would’ve handled that myself. Who asked you?”
“I’m working security at the wedding, so yeah that’s who.” Then she took in the dark clothes, with the subtle security written across his broad shoulder. He was built like a wide-receiver.

“They asked you to punch out ever drunken schlub who tried to cop a feel tonight? Because your fist must be really fucking sore.” His eyebrows raised in surprise. She considered him dismissed; she didn’t have time to deal with the help. Although the help had raised her blood pressure a few notches. Though she prided having an independent nature, a show of brute strength always did something for her.

She turned away from him, setting the glass down. She reached into her small bag, big enough for some cash, a credit card, the invite and a condom. She set some money on the bar with a wink to the bartender and grabbed her drink. She slipped her leg from the bar stool, ignoring the pinch in her toes from the imitation Milanos and strutted away into the rest of the melee.

Kids were running all over the damn place, revved up from the ice cream station. Moms and dads were too busy having a good time to supervise them. There was a lot of sloppy dancing going on, and party fouls splashing onto the ground. The bride and groom were still there, in the middle doing one of those line dances that people do at weddings. She shook her head and took a slow drink.

Her dark eyes scanned the crowd, not missing anything. Some nights was for business, but tonight was pure pleasure.  Who would it be? That guy who sat in the corner looking low into his diet cola. Rejected from a bridesmaid perhaps? That sadness could be fun to play with. The silver fox sitting at the table, strumming his fingers with his eyes a little unfocused from the bourbons he’d had? Too easy. She needed some excitement. The one guy over there loosening his tie, who was shaking his head a little? Jilted lover of the bride, or maybe the groom? This was the new millennium after all. Anything goes. She changed direction, letting each hip drop in deliberation, flipping her hair knowing that the light was catching each ebony strand just so. She would look like a dark goddess to him. And she would be, for the night at least.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” that voice rumbled against her ear. The security guard. She couldn’t believe she had let him get so close. She must be slipping.

“What do you mean? I have my guest ticket. Want to see it security boy? Or do you just want to drop me like you did my cousin back there?” her voice mocked him, as she pulled out her invite.

His breath was warm against her neck, making her breathing a little erratic. He tugged the card from her hand, reciting it without reading it. She realized her mistake. Maybe this dress had created too many waves. Subtleties were not her strong suit.

“This isn’t your name. Edith Beltone died three weeks ago. Who are you?” He crumbled it and slipped it in his pocket.

She smiled as her voice became a little breathy. “Who do you want me to be?”  He felt so good pressed against her like this.

“I’m disappointed. I didn’t expect you to use such played out lines.” His voice rumbled against her. He smelled like something spicy and dark. Exotic.

“You say played out, I say classic.” His hand was on her bare back, right above her ass, guiding her away from tonight’s delight toward the exit. His heat poured through her, lighting a fire deep inside. Maybe she’d found her toy for the night after all.

He placed her glass on a waiter’s tray as they walked through the party. His hand firmly steered her into the hallway. The only people in the hallway were those who were leaving the dancehall and the servers who were too busy to pay attention to guests.

“How did you know?” she asked. She’d been crashing weddings for years and no one had ever been the wiser. She’d found the invite in the mail. The person who’d lived there before her hadn’t updated her address. She’d just returned from a particularly messy mission in Bahrain. She forcefully pushed the memories aside.

Oh well. It would’ve been a good run.

“We’ve been watching you for a while Venise. Aren’t you glad we found you?” A cold lump dropped in her stomach. She didn’t bother trying to deny her name. His tone told her more than just a crashed wedding had gone wrong. Who was he working for? He could be from anywhere. She’d gained a lot of enemies in her time.

Her eyes darted down the hallways knowing the exits had already been blocked. She knew this day would come, but she hadn’t realized it was so close. Her red heels seemed to sink in the plush carpet. Then she smiled the smile that had gotten hundreds of men before him into so much trouble. She slipped the straps of her dress down, lifting her arms. It danced down her body like a flame, leaving the heels, the fishnet stockings, and the smile. She leaned in closer and ran her thumb over his full lower lip.

“Wouldn’t you like to know what it’s like,” she whispered. “Just for tonight. Don’t you want to know what it is that draws them in?” She pressed her breasts pressed against his chest. “Can you take me?” she issued her challenge, leaned in and licked his ear. That’s all it took.

He lifted her from the ground and her legs wrapped around his waist like they were made to be there. He swiftly found an unmarked room, opened it with his ID, and slammed the door behind them. She barely had time to notice the security screens set up before they were kissing; though less kissing and more a dance of domination, a mark of tongues and teeth and groans. He grabbed her amble ass, lifting her and rubbing her wet slit against his pants. She arched her back, ready to do what she did best.

He bit the inside of her neck, marking her and then licked it. She laughed throatily, turning to him.

“So you like to bite?” Her voice was almost a growl, her eyes wild. She ripped his jacket down. “So do I, but I save it for the end.” She grabbed the edges of his shirt, ripping it apart and scattering buttons everywhere.  His body was so hard and perfect that she tried to paint his chest with her mouth, licking, kissing, and scraping her teeth against his nipples. She ran her nails down his back, leaving her signature V. He groaned, taking a handful of her hair and yacking on it, pulling her away from him.

He led her with her hair to a desk, brushing everything off of it. She jumped on top, opening her legs wide to him. He unzipped his pants, and her greedy little fingers had to play to see what she was dealing with. He was just as big as she thought he would be, filling her hand with his thick, throbbing cock. He took his place between her legs. He pulled a condom out of his pack pocket, ripped open the protection, and sliding it over himself. He didn’t give her time to breathe, to think. He nudged against her opened, teasing her slit with his throbbing rob. He grit is teeth for control as he sank right in, filling her, stretching her. Hurt so good, so good.

“Fuck me!” she groaned letting her head fall back while squeezing her eyes tightly. His hips started pounding into her. Sounds of flesh smacking against flesh and rough groans filled the room. He lifted her higher, until he got that perfect angle. That one where she couldn’t think, she wasn’t even sure if she was breathing. This was so wrong. She was the one who usually had the control, but she didn’t care just as long as this never stopped. Her toes flexed in the air. He was staring down at her, his face an almost angry mask, as he bit his lip, pumping his hips like a piston. She arched her back and he bent down while grabbing one of her nipples that were hard and ready for his taking. He sucked at her, bit her, lapped with his tongue just to suck on her again.

That’s all it took. Her body shook and contorted in spasms like it was out of control. She was definitely out of control. She may have hit him, and she definitely scratched him. Still, he kept going until he blew his load, grunting as he let it all go.

He then looked down at her with what almost seemed like regret, and she felt a pinprick in her side. Her eyes widened as she felt herself start to lose feeling in her body.

He pulled out of her, straightened his pants and pulled out his radio transmitter. “The Black Widow has been captured. Repeat, The Black Widow has been captured.” She felt like she was a marbleized horror show. Only her eyes could move. She watched him walk to a closet and pull out a robe. She couldn’t feel it when he put it on her.  She couldn’t feel the tear fall down her cheek.

**

Who is Venise really? How did the bodyguard know her? Where is she now?

Thank you for downloading the first part in the “Just One” short story serial. Each month you’ll get another piece of the puzzle as you learn about “The Black Widow” and her shady past.

Here’s a sneak peek into Chapter Two:

When she woke, her body was laid prone on a table. The room was a searing white with an antiseptic smell. Was she in a hospital? It had the hushed sound of that type of facility. She glanced down at her hand;, she was tied down to the bed. It didn’t matter at this point. She hadn’t regained feeling in her extremities, even though her mind was wide awake. It was like a waking nightmare. Who had her here? And why? What were they planning on doing with her?

The clicking of heels hitting linoleum alerted her to her first unwanted guest.

 

 

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#writestuff interview with author and mentor K.M. Weiland

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What compassion means to me

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When I tried to write what compassion means to me, I had the hardest time. What amounts to a potential high school essay, I deleted and rewrote numerous time.

Maybe I didn’t say enough. Or I said too little.

I thought about telling you a story, but I couldn’t narrow down to a single event that would tell you what compassion looks like to me. (Strange, a storyteller not having a story to tell.)

I just have to tell you the best way I know how without a pretty polish or a spoon full of sugar.

To me, compassion is not pity or sympathy, which is just pity-light. It’s not a selfish act or emotion. It doesn’t involve somehow “proving” what a good person you are.

It’s the willingness to meet someone where he is. To not judge. To understand that you don’t get it.

You honestly don’t.

You may have had some similar situation happen. That’s entirely possible. Yet…

You don’t know everything he’s gone through. You don’t know what brought him to your door. His Truth is real. For this person, it’s a tangible thing he lives with.

He may not have handled the situation the way you would. He may have just dealt with it the best way he knew how, which maybe led to a negative outcome.

Don’t dismiss him because he made mistakes. Or his recovery is taking longer than yours. It matters. It happened. He’s a person.

People in general have a huge capacity to harm each other. We can be hurtful and thoughtless without meaning or with a fiery purpose. I know I’ve been too harsh. Sitting on my throne built on, “If you would just do xyz, you wouldn’t be like this.” and “How does anyone get into this situation?” Entirely too quick to judge.

This extends to my views of myself.

I’m such a mess. I’m a deeply flawed human being who consistently makes mistakes. I jump, misjudge the distance and fall short all too often. If we wore our inner scars on the outside, I would be a torn motley quilt of messily stitched patches, hurriedly sewn together with imprecision and decidedly lack of forethought.

I’m the embodiment of the bull in the China shop of life.

And that’s ok. Even as this imperfect patchwork, I have to recognize my value with my flaws. I must know myself, what I bring to this world and remember what I’ve overcome to get here. To not judge myself too harshly.

Before feeling that compassion for others, we must first give it to ourselves. Oh Ru Paul you were so right–

“If you don’t love yourself, how in the hell you gonna love somebody else?”

We have a huge capacity to love. There’s no limit to that metaphorical human heart. It pulses with beauty and hope. You can see it in the way the quiet elegance of the tides ebb and flow, the twinkle in your Mom’s eye when you give her a surprise visit and the giggles of a child playing with his puppy. It’s everywhere.

By giving that compassion to ourselves and others, we can tap into that heart. Make it stronger.

I urge you to join this movement of #1000Speak. Shed light to your corner of the internet. Together, we’ll make it shine like a clear summer’s night sky. Beautiful.

If you’re wondering what #1000Speak is, check out this video we made:

If you write a post, link it up here:

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