Guest Fiction - Party Favours

Greetings all,

Just a bit more fiction before I return to a couple of topic areas that have been on my mind recently. These two were written by Felicia, and by sandra. Both were inspired by my "You are..." series. I have received permission from both of them to post their words.

Enjoy.

Be seeing you,

Macknezie.
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Party Favours, Variations on a Theme of Mackenzie Cross, Second Tangent
by felicia Mansur
Copyright 2008

You are at a cocktail party, a glass of amber fire neglected in your hand. She looks over her shoulder at you, missing the latest attempt at seduction by the boys surrounding her. She smiles at them and turns away. Her hips sway under her impeccable posture as she walks towards you, her lips parted slightly, her long lashes shading dark eyes. As she turns to go up stairs she dips her head to you. In another time or place this could’ve been a bow, now it’s an invitation.

You watch her climb the stairs, her slender legs seem to go on forever. All the way from her high heels until they disappear under her short skirt. The shadow under her skirt is full of promise.

You finish your drink before following.

The bathroom door is slightly open. She’s leaning over the counter fixing her lipstick. She catches your eye smiling. She lifts her skirt just a bit, spreading her legs. Across her ass are the unmistakable welts from a cane.

You lock the door behind you. She crosses her wrists in the small of her back and closes her eyes.

You remind yourself to thank your host later.


Copyright 2008; felicia Mansur, (felicia@mansur.ca). All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.

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Party Favours, Variations on a Theme of Mackenzie Cross, Third Tangent
by sandra
Copyright 2008

My own cocktail party.

I spy her capturing his attention with her velvet swaying, her seductive stare behind half tilted head. She clinches his interest, swaggering up the staircase, the slow rhythmic click of her heels against naked wooden steps.

He commits to his prey, ascending until they are both hidden from where I watch. I approach the bottom step, hesitating because of what I might discover up above. His commanding silhouette illuminated by the bathroom light. Oh, the ease at which he closes that door, behind which a flood of passion erupts.

My heart drowns in my drink.
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