February 14, 2015

A Valentine's Day Treat

Happy Valentine's Day! If you're looking for a kinky little sojourn into delicious visual fantasy, please visit Violet Blue. She has curated a beautiful selection of photos under the heading: What if 50 Shades Was Sexy? NSFW—all the fucking way. (Unless you were at a super cool place.)

My Valentine's gift to you is a 500 word story called: The Doctor's Wife Must Have a Lot of Platters. I challenged myself to write a romantic, 500-word (on the dot) story with a twist. Challenging myself is—well, challenging. I do much better when someone else gives me an assignment and a deadline. I'm pathetic at cracking my own whip. But this time, I'm pleased with the result. And yes, this is a short story with a long title. And yes, this is my style of romance. I'm interested in hearing your response.

The Doctor's Wife Must Have a Lot of Platters

The doctor’s wife must have a lot of platters. That’s what Sasha thought as she made her way back to the examining room. She kept hearing Mrs. D talking on the phone about the earthquake. How all her platters had fallen in the early morning tremor. Then she turned as Dr. D entered the room.

            “I could help you clean up,” Sasha offered the handsome doctor, batting her long, mascara-drenched lashes. “I heard there was a lot of broken glass.” She hit the ass in glass. The doctor seemed to pause. Sasha set out his instruments for the next patient, and she hoped he could see how much effort she put into every interaction. She wanted him to notice her. She wanted him to see her.

            Throughout the day, Sasha continued to drop hints. She was new to the practice but not new to fucking doctors. His wife sat there at the reception desk as if she owned not only the office but the world. The wife had gone to college for her Mrs. degree and had landed a doctor instead. How the parents must have beamed! But that was what—two decades ago?  The doctor’s wife was slim and birch blonde, more platinum than the ring on her finger.

            Sasha had hair so black you could lose coal in it. She had curves where the doctor’s wife was straight as a wicket. And she knew exactly how much pleasure she could give a married man with her moist and ready mouth.

            “The Mrs. said there’s so much to be done,” Sasha said. “And that your help is away. You must be at the end of your rope.”

            The doctor didn’t seem to pay much attention to her. Which was odd, because even in the scrubs, Sasha looked like a model. She knew it. The men at the food van knew it. The delivery boys knew it. She could see their admiration in how they spoke to her, how they smiled and winked, drank her in.

            But she wanted the doctor.

            So when, at the end of the day, he said, “Sasha, thank you. I would be happy if you’d come by this evening,” she was thrilled, although she wondered about the timing. Perhaps the wife was going out. Or maybe she met with other women to have Botox injected while drinking Cosmos.

            While Sasha went to retrieve her coat from the back room, the doctor came up behind his wife and put his arms around her. The light of his life. The woman he loved to fuck—and loved to watch when she fucked her playthings.

            It wouldn’t take Marielle much work to explain to Sasha how the evening would progress. His wife’s powers of seduction were legendary. A drink by the pool would turn into a skinny dip, followed by a night of pure fantasy.

            “Serve her up on a platter,” the doctor grinned to his wife. “The way you do best. With that strap-on and some honey…”


Sending the sweetest Valentine's wishes your way...


1 comment:

Miz Angell said...

Wow - I'd say it was a successful challenge. :D