What I Miss

 By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  Last night, I dreamt about you. Nothing momentous, or erotic; just an ordinary scene that faded quickly when I woke to the sadness of your absence, and the knowledge that I can’t even send you a “Good morning, Beautiful” text to enjoy the smile that – once upon a time – would have spread across your face when you realized I’m thinking about you. And, often, you’d send back a “blushing emoji,” because you don’t believe you’re beautiful. But, I’d say it every day – because it’s true – and I had hoped to make you understand it.
  That’s what I miss the most.

Control

By Bud Koenemund

A 100 Word Story

  “I’m in control this time,” she cooed, pushing him into a chair.
  Her hands, clad in elbow-length, black satin opera gloves, slid off his shoulders as she knelt between his legs.
  “Are you?” he countered.
  “Mmmm, hmmm,” she murmured.
  He reached out to touch her, but she swatted his hand.
  “Be good, or I’ll stop,” she ordered.
  “You know what happens when you tease me,” he warned.
  She dragged her fingers across his stomach, and clawed his inner thighs. He let out a low growl. She knew she didn’t have long before he’d take over… just as she wanted.

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.

Two Haiku for a Girl with Green Eyes

By Bud Koenemund

For Lindsay

I

My words, which delight,

take their birth in your eyes; thus

you spark your own joy.

II

Is't lust or madness -

blind chance or fate - that my words

dwell in your green eyes?

Six Haiku (August 2020 - March 2021)

By Bud Koenemund

Light
Your surreptitious

wave; an incandescent light

in a dreary day.

Declaration
I declare my love
to thee, for I know no way
but all or nothing.

Protection
I offer my heart,
and pray you will protect it
as I protect yours.

Duality
I’m the romantic
type who’ll write you sonnets; then
tie you to the bed.

Longing
I long to feel our
fingers intertwined, and hearts
racing as love grows.

Paradox
Slow motion woman,
you stimulate my senses
and quicken my heart.

Superpowerless

By Bud Koenemund

It is a difficult concept to reconcile
when a part-time superhero realizes
they can no longer – perhaps never could –
save the world. And, in fact, are incapable even
of saving themselves.

Abyss - A Haiku

By Bud Koenemund

The voices whisper
constantly, dragging me down
into an abyss.

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.