Short Story: A Moonlight Dance

   The night was frigid. Dead. Not a sound to be heard over the soft, chilling breeze, except for the shifting of snow, as a young woman trudged through the dark alone. She was bundled up from head to toe, but the air still stung her exposed face, her cheeks and nose bright red. She wasn't wandering aimlessly. She had a pair of skates slung over her shoulders and a destination in mind. It didn't matter that she could hardly see through the thick fall of snowflakes. She knew the path by heart. 

    Deep in the woods, was a lake. Completely frozen over in the winter, she tried to keep it cleared of snow, so she could come skate and think alone. Always alone. There was a layer of snow now though, but she didn't care. She sat on the edge of the ice, lacing up her skates, and the silvery moon was finally peeking out of the dreary clouds. The snow sparkling and shined, and she let out an ice breath, gazing out at the winter landscape. It was simply serene. With her heart heavy, she stood and skated on light, practiced, feet. Starting slow then picking up speed as silent music played in her head. 

    She glided, she spun, she danced. With each passing second, she went faster and harder. The music in her grew louder and harsher. She flew, she jumped, she whirled with a fervor that warmed her blood, her bones. The world didn't exist, just the ice, the moon, and the snow. Her head was only filled with symphony and the slice of blades. Then, voices? 

    She slowly opened her eyes and was no longer alone. Figures glided across the ice around her. Wisps of smoke and light, in human form. Fathers and sons. Mothers and daughters. Skating and laughing. Her concentration was broken, but her body was still moving at dangerous speeds and a bump in the ice sent her slamming into the ground. She hit so hard she cracked her head, vision went black, and her limp body slid into the snow. Snow fell and melted onto her heated face, and she laid there in the freezing powder until she could fight the nausea and dizziness back. She sat up slowly, with shaky breaths that floated around her. 

    There was nobody there. 

    She sat alone in the snow. As the clouds rolled in again, she took off her skates, and began the walk home. She never told anyone what happened, but she continued to return to the lake.  

Poem: Not a Poet

 

Text for screen readers: 

Title: Not a Poet

I'm a better writer 

Then I am a poet

When I write stories

My destination is clear in my mind

The words eb and flow like the waves

An adventure I navigate by stars

With poetry 

The words hop and skip 

Like fish in the water

I try to spear them like an island castaway

Starved for their meaning

When I write stories

I discover hidden secrets about myself

An archeologist of hidden truths

With poetry

I'm a toddler trying to shove 

a square shaped truth

Into a round hole, ever frustrated 

And yet I keep trying

Collecting my truths in a collage of words

Trying to piece together art

Trying to piece together meaning

Short Story: Evening Delights

 He hadn't been on a date in a while, like AWHILE. And he knew this woman. They'd gone out several times before and he knew how the evening would end. So how could he be expected to not be a bit fidgety with anticipation throughout dinner? 

 He barely tasted his food, couldn't even remember what he had ordered. All he could think about was the gorgeous woman sitting across from him. Blonde curls, black dress, red lips, a dusting of freckles across her cheeks. He liked the way she smiled at him. 

 The way to the hotel was a blur. A flash of rainy streets and cars. There was a moment together in the elevator when they kissed and the raindrops in her hair wet his hands. In the privacy of their room, he let his touch wander. Moving his hands down her back, waist, legs, then moving them up, lifting the hem of her dress. He accidentally tickled her thighs with his fingertips and she giggled, turning around and moving her hair away from her zipper. Despite his eagerness, he unzipped her slowly. Savoring the sight of her, and the way she glanced over her shoulder at him; eyes alight with desire. 

 He kissed down her back as her dress dropped to the floor and then she took his hands, leading him to the bed. Before she fell back onto the mattress, she had discarded his shirt, much more aggressively then he had removed her dress, and he chuckled to himself thinking it must have been awhile for her too. 

  He grabbed onto her thick thighs and pulled her legs wide so he could dive into her depths. A shiver ran through her whole body and he grazed his teeth against her inner thighs. He kissed her skin, traveling down between her legs. Her fingers tangled into his hair, tugging encouragingly, and he finally pressed his l against her clit, licking slowly, teasingly until her grip on him tightened. Then he switched back and forth between slipping his tongue inside her, plunging deeply, and sucking on her slit. 

 He was rewarded for his efforts with her sweet gasps and moans; the squeeze of her legs around his head. When she started shaking he focused all his mouth's attention on her clit, and worked his fingers into her, rubbing and curling. She bit her lip to strangle the sound she made when she orgasmed. She must have bitten hard because he tasted copper when she yanked him up by his hair to kiss him harshly. 

 "Are you ready for your turn?" She asked through heavy breaths. 

 "Please," he said, it was what he had been waiting for all day. 

 She got up from the bed, parted with a softer kiss, and sat alone in the dark, waiting for her to prepare herself in the other room. He couldn't stop the bounce of his leg, he was almost painfully hard, just waiting. The beautiful woman returned, framed in the light of the next room, dressed in black lingerie and a black strap-on he'd become familiar with. She came to him, unbearable slowly, and reached out the scratch at the stubble under his chin.

 "Are you ready?" She asked, her voice dropping sensually.

 "Yes, please, I'm ready." He said, feeling something akin to desperation.

 "Turn around." She told him. 

 He obeyed immediately, flipping around and planting his feet on the floor and palms on the sheets. Her soft hands grazed against his hips as she reached around to undo his belt and her nails scrapped against his skin as she pulled his pants and boxers down. He truly couldn't wait any longer, and he didn't have to. She pressed, sharp and quick, into his pre-prepared ass and he almost lost his footing for a second. He hissed at the sensation, and only had a second to recover before she was pounding into him. The moans were pulled from his throat with each thrust and her hands rubbed up and down his back, occasionally scratching him. He let himself fade away into the feelings, the sounds, and the darkness of the room. His partner had leaned over, moving more slowly and planting kisses on his neck and shoulders, whispering words he couldn't quite make out, but the tone was intoxicating. 

 When her hand wrapped around his dripping dick, she sped up once again, going harder than before and stocking him. The combination of feelings was ruining him, and he was losing his ability to restrain himself. He cummed hot into her hand, faster then he wanted, but the relief seeped through his skin and into his bones. He let himself lay onto the sheet, in his own mess and the blonde wiggled her way up under his arm and embraced him, whispering those sweet unintelligible words to him once again.