MLMM Photo Challenge — Come Hither

8272cea8-1bdc-4e53-af78-2826bb665928I stopped short when I saw her sitting on the steps leading up to the brownstone in which I had an apartment. She was looking up at me, her head slightly tilted, her large, expressive eyes staring, and her red Mona Lisa-like lips smiling. She was stunningly beautiful and I was mesmerized.

She was sitting there, learning slightly forward, with her arms resting on her knees and her feet arched in such a way that exposed most of her shapely legs. I’m almost ashamed to tell you that I wondered whether or not she was wearing panties, and the thought that she might not be was arousing.

She continued to look at me with a sort of come hither expression on her face, inviting me to engage with her. I finally gathered myself. “Is there something I can help you with, miss?” I asked.

“I’m waiting for someone,” she said.

“I know everyone who lives in this building,” I said. “Perhaps if you give me the name of the person you’re waiting for, I can be of some assistance.”

She smiled and said, “Do you like what you see?” Then she shifted her position slightly and in such a way that allowed me to confirm that she was, indeed, not wearing panties.

“Are you a lady of the night?” I asked.

She laughed. “You never answered my question,” she said.

“What question was that?” I asked.

“Do you like what you see?” she repeated.

“And you never answered my question,” I said. “Who are you waiting for?”

“Maybe I’m waiting for you,” she said, a sensual smile gracing her face. She stood up and slowly walked down a few steps until she was standing right in front of me. She took another step forward, reached her arms up and flung them around my neck. She pressed herself tight against me, the smell her perfume was intoxicating. She stood up on her tiptoes and moved her mouth toward mine. She pressed her soft, warm, moist lips up against mine and pushed her tongue into my mouth. I felt almost faint and had to lean against her for support.

She pulled her head back, smiled up at me, and said, “Dinner should be ready in about fifteen minutes, honey, but if you’re in the mood, maybe we can have a quickie before we eat.”

“Oh, I’m so in the mood,” I said to my wife, lifting her up in my arms and carrying her up the steps and into our apartment.

Written for the Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Photo Challenge. Photo credit: Unexpected Tales.

Murder He Wrote — Part One

7EA72AEF-4548-4769-98D3-9D05EBB29BB8Brian felt defeated as he approached the door to their rather run-down, one bedroom flat in the Adams Morgan neighborhood of Washington, DC. The echoing sound of the key turning in the latch and of the tumblers slowly disengaging the lock filled the hollow hallway. Brian twisted the knob and the door slowly swung inward, revealing a long, narrow foyer.

The hot, stale air coming from inside the apartment offered no relief from the 95 degree heat wave hovering over the city. With a long, low sigh of resignation, Brian entered the hot apartment and started to walk toward the living room. He stopped in front of the small, half-table where he threw his keys.

A slight man, barely 5’ 6” and small-boned, Brian weighed in at only 120 pounds. On this day, he seemed to have an especially lean and hungry look about him. He looked frail and pale, with sunken cheeks and empty, gray eyes. His already short stature somehow appeared even shorter. His shoulders were rounded and he was slightly stooped over, giving him the look of deflated man.

Emily, Brian’s wife, spent most of her days reclining on the couch in front of the TV watching soap operas and game shows, drinking glass after glass of Pepsi and snacking on chips, nuts, and pretzels. Emily was just a bit taller than Brian, and, as a woman with a fairly large frame, even when they were first married around six years earlier, she outweighed him by maybe ten or 15 pounds. But over the years, her sedentary life style and poor eating habits had taken their toll; she ballooned up to around 180 pounds.

Emily neither loved nor respected Brian, but she enjoyed being married to him. She made all the decisions. She managed their finances, even though she contributed nothing to the pot. She was a formidable woman and Brian, having been dominated by his mother and sister when he was growing up, was used to having a dominant female in his life. He needed to have someone take care of him and Emily wanted someone to take care of. So, from that perspective, their marriage to that point had been a success.

Like any other married couple, early on they had their fair share of arguments, but Brian quickly learned that arguing with Emily was a fool’s errand. She had to win all arguments, and that was that. Probably for that reason alone, they rarely argued anymore, and when they did have an occasional parting of the ways, it was all one-sided.

Much to his chagrin, Brian proved to be impotent, and Emily never let him forget it. Why was she putting on weight? Because of her anxiety due to her husband’s inability to get it up. Why couldn’t Brian hold down a decent job? Because he was only half a man. Brian’s impotency was Emily’s scapegoat.

Emily looked up at Brian as he walked into the living room. She looked at her watch and then back at Brian, who met her gaze but quickly looked toward the floor.

“It’s only three in the afternoon. Don’t tell me,” Emily taunted. “Did the little mouse get canned today. Did they finally figure out that you’re the little man who isn’t really much of a man? Did they ask you to do some man’s work and you couldn’t hack it? Is that what….”

“For crissake, Emily, stop it!” Brian shot back. “Just knock it off.”

“Well, am I right? Did you get the ax?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Brian said. “I got the ax.”

“Why?” she demanded.

“The company is downsizing and laid off about 20 of us,” Brian said, his voice taking on the tone of a little boy confessing to his mother than he’d done something bad.

“Jesus, Brian,” Emily said. “That’s what, the third job you’ve lost in the past two years?”

“The fourth,” Brian admitted.

“When did this happen?” Emily asked.

“They told me first thing this morning.”

“Looking at her watch again, Emily asked, “So where the hell have you been all day? It’s after three. What have you been doing since you got dumped?”

“I had some thinking to do,” Brian responded, so softly that Emily could barely hear what he said.

With cruel and biting sarcasm, Emily said, “Thinking? What could such an impotent little mouse possibly spend almost the whole day thinking about?”

Brian’s spontaneous answer was almost as much of a shock to him as it was to his wife. “I was thinking about how I’m going to fucking kill you someday.”