Heaven and Hell

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay.

  “My boyfriend is in the other room,” she rasped, as his right hand slipped under her skirt and up between her legs.
  “Do you want me to stop?” he whispered.
  The fingers of his left hand entangled in her hair. He tugged, tilting her head back; exposing her neck to his lips.
  “Tell me to stop,” he mumbled, his mouth barely leaving her flesh, “and I will.”
  “You’re going to send me to hell,” she objected; already fighting for breath.
  In the darkness, his lips curved into a wicked grin.
  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But, I’ll take you to heaven first.”

Semicolon

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Her mouth moved along his collarbone; planting gentle kisses as she went. Sliding over his shoulder, she spied a tattoo. Even in the dim light, she recognized the symbol.
  “What’s this?” she asked, quietly.
  He turned his head to see what she meant.
  “It’s a semicolon,” he answered.
  “I know that,” she said, her fingertips brushing over the ink. “But, why?”
  “It’s a punctuation mark used to carry on when you could’ve just ended things,” he explained. “And, some people use it to remember.”
  “Remember what?” she prodded, then realized. “Did you…”
  “I carried on,” he whispered, pulling her closer.

My Turn

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Just 10 minutes before, she’d come back from the Ladies Room, and discreetly dropped her green lace panties into his lap. Stuffing them in his jacket pocket, he escorted her from the restaurant, and scanned the street for the nearest place to push her up against a wall. A dimly lit alley provided the illusion of privacy. Hands and tongues probed, roughly; their breath became ragged, and flesh glowed in the warm air. She gasped as his fingers slid inside her. His lips, moving downward to kiss her neck, curved in a wicked smile.
  “My turn to tease,” he whispered.

Sated

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

Eyes locked; lips touching;

two bodies becoming one,

'til lust is sated.

Helpless

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Her heart raced as he tightened the steel handcuffs on her wrists. His fingertips brushed over bare flesh, tracing upward along her spine. Leaning back against the wall, he pulled her to him, and wrapped his strong arms around her. Her eyes went wide as his left hand clutched her throat, cutting off her breath. She was helpless, though not at all afraid of being so… not with him. For several moments, his right hand rested between her breasts, feeling her heartbeat; then drifted downward, across her stomach. He kissed the back of her neck as she melted into him.

A Poet of No Words

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

For Lindsay

  Leaning against the edge of his desk, she spread her legs invitingly. Their eyes locked as his hands drifted upward, sliding under the hem of her little black dress. Finding the waistband of her panties, he dragged them downward; until the lace stretched between her knees.
  “What do you think?” she asked, watching his gaze fall.
  “Incredible,” he murmured.
  “That’s it?” she teased. “No poetry now? A sonnet, perhaps?”
  He struggled to find words in the maelstrom wracking his brain.
  “Tell me,” she cooed.
  “When I see you like this,” he confessed, kissing her flesh, “I can’t think about words.”

You

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  “Whatcha thinkin’ about,” she asked.
  “You,” he said, quietly.
  “Me?” she returned. “What about me?”
  “About kissing you,” he admitted.
  “Well, then,” she mused, “why don’t you?”
  “Because I wanted it to be perfect,” he said. “Not rushed.”
  She stared at him, silently contemplating his words.
  “But,” he continued, “I just realized that any place you are; any time we’re together, is perfect. And, I don’t want to waste it. Life is too short to not let you know how I feel.”
  “So,” she offered, “show me.”
  His hand came up to cup her warm cheek as he leaned closer.

Consent

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  “Why don’t you touch me?” she asked, once the elevator door closed and they were alone.
  “Excuse me,” he returned.
  “Every other man here touches me as they walk past,” she said. “My back; or my shoulders; as they move around me.”
  For several moments, he remained silent.
  “I would never put my hands on you without your consent,” he said, finally.
  “And, if I gave you my consent?” she asked, stepping toward him.
  “Then, I would put my hand on your cheek, tilt your head up, and kiss you,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.
  The door slid open.

Want

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 word story

For Lindsay

  I want to push you against the wall, and mash my mouth against yours; kissing you until we’re both gasping for breath. I want to pull your hair, leaning your head back, exposing your delicate neck to my lips. I want your legs wrapped around me as I carry you to bed. I want to tear the clothes from your body as we fumble toward ecstasy. I want to stare into your eyes, and clutch your throat, as we fuck – not making love – each other into delirium until we collapse; sweaty and exhausted; our limbs entangled, as we whisper endearments.

Microfiction Combo Pack

  Here are three microfiction (100 words, or less) stories written over the last two weeks (OK, I wrote two of them, and came up with the third by re-working an older story). They were written for a contest run by a friend on The Facebook.

  I don't usually write this kind of stuff, and wasn't going to enter the contest, but a few ideas popped into my head (you never know when, where, or how inspiration will strike). Each story had to contain the words "rattling" and "wall."

  Enjoy.

- Bud

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To Be, Or Not To Be

  Every day, for as long as he could remember, Bartleby awoke with the same questions rattling against the walls of his weary brain: Would a person be considered suicidal if he simply didn't care if he woke up in the morning? If he were disappointed by the realization he had to struggle through at least one more day before he could finally lie down and die, ending the spiral of pain and confusion life had become? If he sometimes contemplated an act he knew himself too chickenshit to actually commit?

  Grudgingly, he rose to endure yet another day of emptiness.

Those Who Cannot Remember the Past

                                                 

  The insatiate gathered above Wall Street, on gilded balconies overlooking the rabble – the indebted; those without jobs; those left homeless when the housing bubble burst, and so many banks collapsed, rattling the economic security of the middle-class – the self-proclaimed 99 percent. They laughed, took pictures, and mocked the people; toasting the disaffected with champagne sipped from crystal flutes. They were among the elite in a world of margins and algorithms; puts and calls; dollars and cents. But, insular, and blinded by their greed, they could not feel the heat of a fire whose glow already lit the horizon.

Fallback Guy

  "Please," she cried, grabbing him.

  He avoided her gaze as her fingers sank into the fabric of his jacket.

  "Please, kiss me," she pleaded. "I know I hurt you. But, I love you. And, if you kiss me right now everything will be OK."

  He looked into her eyes. Everything he'd wanted stood before the wall he'd built; the words he'd desired to hear rang in his ears. And, the memories of every time she'd hurt him; of every time she'd disappeared; when she'd chosen someone else, rattling his sanity, flowed through his brain.

  "I can't," he said, turning away.

Ethereal

For “Her”

You come to me again, ethereal,
in the gathering mist of my slumber,
a vision so vivid I reach out to feel
the warmth of your skin under my fingers.

I should be used to this dream by now,
but I am fooled once again; thinking you real,
as you float, always, just outside my reach,
like dust motes suspended in the afternoon sun.

Your perfume wraps around me like an embrace.
The scent wounds my unguarded heart,
but I close my eyes and breathe it in deeply,
as if the smell could help me hold you again.

I move closer to you, to look into your eyes,
to hold your soft body once again in my arms,
stroke your hair, and taste your sweet kiss…
and to find the answers you always had for me.

The world stirs and you slowly pull away
as I reach out to gently touch your face,
still luminescent in the dying moonlight,
one more time before I open my eyes.