There’s No Body

Julian glanced from the note in his hand to Laila, the woman sitting outside on the short wall surrounding the hotel's rooftop helipad. She was facing away from him, but he had no trouble imagining her moss-green eyes staring up at him. The imagery made him shift and wriggle as he imagined her mouth around his erect cock. Guilt stabbed him. Things were different a month ago but in the time since she had agreed to be his guest at this party, he'd realized he was in love with someone else. That "someone else" had come to the party as well and though Helen wasn't privy to his feelings, she had come alone and had been a fixture at his side since her arrival. Meanwhile, Laila got farther and farther away and then seemed to melt into the crowd. Hours passed. Laila's note asking him to join her on the roof was delivered to him by a member of the hotel's staff. He folded it in half along the existing crease and slid it into his pants pocket.

The automatic doors whooshed open and Julian stepped out onto the asphalt. Not being a native of San Francisco, he was more than a little shocked that the air was chilly, at least forty degrees cooler than it had been during the day. Out in the bay, a thick, eerily solid-looking fog was spilling down over Alcatraz Island like sticky, melted marshmallow crème. He shivered, hugging himself as he hurried across the helipad's bulls-eye to Laila. She looked his way as he approached and stood to greet him with a smile. Desire surged through him, catching him off guard. He wanted her, wanted to feel her warm, soft contours pressing along the length of his body again. And he wanted her kiss.

He dipped his head toward her full, natural, cherry-blossom lips and felt her soft hands sliding up along his jaw line. He yelped, his drooping eyelids shooting wide as, without warning, she grasped his ears and dragged him toward the building's edge. An eerie grin snuck up into her rage-filled eyes. Julian struggled against her, but stopped when he felt the skin of his ears tearing away from his skull.

Laila held his long, broad, angular face squarely in front of her own using strength that defied her size. When she spoke, her voice was baritone, a barely masked growl. "I liked you, Julian. Damn it!"

Julian cringed, whimpering and apologizing profusely for being in love with Helen and not her.

"Shut up! You love someone else, so what? I am angry because I came here by your invitation, but you treat me as though I am of no consequence, not even an acquaintance!" Laila looked off the building toward the ground where the fog was now flooding the streets and crawling up over the buildings. Julian teetered in her grasp, arms shooting out for balance. Suddenly, she pulled him back away from the edge of the roof and released her hold on his ears so fast that he stumbled back and fell to the tarmac. Throwing her head back, she howled, long and low, from deep in her throat as she stepped up onto the lip of the roof. Julian was frozen where he sat, right up until she pinned him with her gaze as she stepped off the side of the building, dropping out of sight into the fog.

"Laila!" Julian jumped up and rushed to the building's edge but couldn't see a thing through the fog. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 911 as he ran for the elevator

"Sir? Julian Rush?" a uniformed officer looked at his notepad then at Julian as he came up to him.

"Yes," Julian stood.

"You're the one who reported that a woman, a Ms. Laila Alaine, jumped off this building?"

"Yes," Julian replied anxiously.

"We're not sure what to tell you, sir. There's no body. We've searched everywhere."

5:51 AM - 6 Comments - 12 Kudos - Add Comment

Prey (Flash Fiction)

The bush Rod was hiding behind shook a little as he shifted, but not so much that it couldn't have been mistaken for the prevailing wind that spun leaves in the street like a phantom dervish. No one was coming up the long drive anyway, hardly any of the trick-or-treaters ever did. But occasionally, occasionally there would be one gutsy little soul. Some kid would come wandering up on a dare or, the ones he really liked were the ones who hadn't heard the stories at all. He loved the children who didn't know that they really, really should have stayed away.

He shifted again, agitated. His knees ached from squatting and, shivering, he longed for his insulated flannel shirt and a hot cup of coffee. He decided to give it up for the night and had just managed to just get himself standing upright when a kid rounded the corner. Rod quickly ducked back down and looked through the leaf bare branches at his quarry. Every bit of the kid was covered with a monk's robe and he or she carried a white pillowcase bulging with trick-or-treat loot. By the build of the body and the cocky gate, Rod presumed it was a boy, twelve or thirteen at most. He licked his lips and tried to ignore his throbbing anticipation.

The kid whistled as he walked. Rod wanted to laugh when he recognized the tune. It was a slow, melancholy, dirge-like version of "Monkey Chased the Weasel".

"This monkey's gonna catch himself a weasel." He mouthed as the kid shuffled by. Rod maneuvered himself quickly around the bush and jumped out, grabbing the kid from behind, one arm around his neck in a strangle hold, his free hand, gloved in thick leather, clapped over the kids mouth. The kid, stronger than Rod had thought he would be, struggled free and took off, running toward the old, derelict house at the top of the street. He was nearly to the front porch steps when Rod tackled him.

"Mom!" the boy managed to yelp before Rod rolled with him off the drive and into the thick brush that closed over them. He squeezed the kid's neck and hissed at him to stop struggling when the front door to the house opened.

"Lou? Lou, are you out here?" a short, stocky woman called out as she moved toward the steps. "Lou!" she called again. She paused and Rod heard her step off the porch and walk slowly in their direction while moving her head from side to side and sniffing the air. She stopped when standing just above them and tsked.

"Oh, Lou, how many times do I have to tell you not to play with your food?"

12:38 AM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

Small Blades (Adult)

Steel against flesh, cutting, bit-by-bit, inch-by-inch, leaving skin…shorn smooth, bare and pink; rinsed clean. I gasp at the brush of your fingers, breathing deep for the sensuous feel of your heat as you bow close down over me, holding my eyes with yours until I sigh and you begin to slowly decorate my silken canvas with the brush of your tongue, leaving moist trails, painting spirals upon my freshly naked skin. You exhale on my mound, blowing heated air, cooled moments from escaping your lips. I shiver, delightedly. Your lips then find my lips and, parting them, your thick tongue slides in, thrusting deep and filling me, licking, seeking then, slipping out, I see...I feel your tongue, your lips and teeth dancing intimate patterns over me, sucking, biting, devouring… I writhe and rise to meet your mouth, your fingers slide in to touch and rub that cluster of nerves, waiting, wanting your caresses sweet; you are the master at playing those deeply humming strings. And I am coming, liquid molten heat, for you, panting, moaning, clutching, squeezing, pulsing groaning and grasping you with my hands and thighs, there is naught to inhale, save me...

...steel against flesh, cutting, bit-by-bit, inch-by-inch, leaving skin…shorn smooth, bare and pink; rinsed clean. You gasp then, at the brush of my chilled fingers tracing lines and twisting spirals slowly down over your naked flesh...

3:10 PM - 7 Comments - 16 Kudos - Add Comment

Dragonfly...

1:35 PM - 9 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

La Petite Mort ~ A Vampire Story (Revised)

In your arms, your teeth break my skin; I know I want to die tonight.

Thirteen stems sit thirsty in a vase perched on the window sill. I watch the soft, pink petals sever, drop and pirouette down onto the bed, two-by-one-by-three. I wait.

And suddenly, you come over me. Your fingers grasp my silken sheath, rending it in high-pitched screams, the shreds falling to the floor. Porcelain skin, bared, glowing in the moonlight shining past the vase of broken stems whose bony fingered shadows reach toward me but sink into the murky sea of satin I am floating on.

Grasping, you turn me, pressing breasts and belly to the sheets while sitting with your thighs spread wide, pinning mine fast against the bed. The first crack and my breath is torn in quickening gasps as, over and over, you welt my back in long, thick, lashing lines from blades to gently sloping globes. Then I shiver as, tracing those lines you slither up along my back and through the heat, your piercing teeth penetrate my neck.

You know my need.

Shifting, you enter me, pushing deep and filling me. Then you retreat. I chase, wanting. With urgent, pressing need, I pursue. Pressure building, I seek.

Then the little death, it comes for me. Cresting crescendo, crying out, I find I cannot breathe until at last, I am gasping against the smooth, black satin sheet beneath my cheek.

And turning, I find, as quick as you were there, you are gone.

~© 2008~Kim~

10:20 AM - 4 Comments - 8 Kudos - Add Comment

Riding in the Rain

Riding in the rain
earth and air
a beguiling heady scent
intoxicating
in the misty gray of dawn
gentle but steady
droplets fall
my hair soaked through
giving way to rivulets
snaking down my forehead
my cheeks
over pale shoulders
between my breasts
it slides
on
down
I lick the moisture from my lips
and lift my head
moaning
Panting now
I ride a frantic pace
I cry out
I am coming
coming for you
...dipping my head
I capture your sweet soft lips with mine
and kiss you
snaking down your body
your pale shoulders
your chest
sliding
further
down
to take you between my lips
and lowering my head
you moan
thrusting now
striking up a quickening pace
you cry out
that you are coming
coming for me.

~Copyright 2007~Kim~

6:51 PM - 7 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

What did They know About Art, Anyway? (a favorite of mine)

The gloves, she looked down at her black, soft, supple, leather gloves; two sheaths stretched taught over the strong, yet feminine hands that lay folded in her lap. She turned them about, examining them appreciatively, slowly, inquisitively from all angles, as if they might be able to answer her questions. How had her life come around to this? Why was she sitting on a train now, a train headed west toward the Badlands and further where it would eventually roll to a stop in Los Angeles; a place she had never wanted to go. She found solace in the fact that there would be another train from there, or maybe a plane, she didn't know, wouldn't know until she arrived, pulled the briefcase out of locker A47, took it with her to someplace private and had a look at its contents.

She felt for the keys inside her coat pocket; one for the locker, a tinier one for the briefcase. They were still there wrapped in a sheet of blank, linen paper that, since arriving in her post office box, had picked up a sweet, lemony fragrance. She glanced out the window and, seeing nothing of interest in the sprawling, flat, barren landscape, folded her hands back in her lap, closed her eyes, and gave in to her desire to think about the events of the previous night.

Twin muzzle flashes chased each other through silver moonlit darkness, but that wasn't the memory she chased. She thought about the gessoed canvas. It had been so white, so pure, but she left it splattered with blood, bone and bits of brain. She liked her work when it was new and bright and hated it that it wouldn't be quite so striking once it dried. She knew it couldn't be helped yet, it still bothered her just a tinge that her customers didn't seem to mind the contrast. She sighed. What did they know about art anyway?

Copyright 2007 ~Kim

6:41 AM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

What is That to the Caged? (This is not an indication of my mood today)

This is a poem that I had to get out of my system, but it is not how I am feeling. It is a goodbye to a ghost from some other time. It snuck up on me and wouldn't let go until I wrote it down.

~Kim

What is That to the Caged?

I wept for you

for your words, they touched me deep

by caressing carefully, gently

you found me weak, trusting

my need

your advantage

for immediately

you crawled into that sweet

vital

wound

and there, you lived and spread

happiness disguised

oh, weaver of a treacherous net

you cinched it down, slowly, tight

and, in retrospect, I knew but

didn't want to be right

meanwhile,

with my every breath

I died

a little

then more

you stole my life

rent my spirit

but still, I cried

Yes,

I cried! I cried for the loss of you!

I cried through love then hate...then ache

to discover something

strange

that void you left

it was always empty

the well had never filled

you took and took and took

you never gave

we never shared

and I realize now that

all along

it was your plan that I should die

No...please

don't fight that truth, not with another lie

love...I'm not inspired.

What is that to the caged?

~Kim  © 2008

11:32 AM - 6 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

SinChildren: The Spy - Post 74

Fifteen minutes, twenty, thirty-five, forty-eight, fifty-seven…the minutes ticked past. Gentle, paced breathing and footfalls masked as a warm summer breeze through the trees was all the noise there was in the forest. The children scanned as far as they could see then as far as they could feel and found no sign of conflict, no more men hiding, nothing but what seemed to belong where it was.

"Ed?" Cullen looked at Ed and thrust the question into his mind. Ed turned to look at the boy for a moment, acknowledging that he'd heard.

"Ed, I do not understand. Where are they? We feel no one. Why do we feel no one?" Cullen seemed frantic.

"There is no one left here to fight," Ed replied. No one but that shimmer that had attacked Lorelei, he thought to himself, though, the longer ago the incident was, the less he remembered of it. He remembered shooting his gun and missing his target, but that was nearly the extent of the memory now. He kept trying to define more details but there seemed nothing more of importance to recall.

"No one left? I do not believe. Where are they, Ed? I do not like this." Cullen interjected. The boy was scanning the woods again his apprehension growing as thick as a fog bank. Ed hadn't seen this coming, though he chided himself because he knew he should have.

"Cullen, there is no one now for miles. Cullen! Godamnit boy, get back here!" Cullen was off on a tangent obtuse to their trajectory. He scampered up a tall pine and, moments later, bits of some poor, brown, furry creature rained down in meaty chunks followed by Cullen jumping to the ground, fresh blood dripping down his chin. He glanced at Ed and licked his fingers. Not missing another beat, he ran back to his position.

"Cullen?" Ed asked as, masking his face with bemused puzzlement, he fought hard not to laugh.

"Spy, Ed. It was a spy." The others felt Ed wanting to bubble over and carried out the task for him. Their laughter immediately caused Cullen to pout but he couldn't keep his ire up. Soon he, too, was reduced to giggles.

They continued running, but the next creature they came across had Lorelei darting up the tree after it and asking,

"Are you spy?" The squirrel scolded her. It flicked its tail and tried to scurry away but only managed a sluggish meandering before it hunkered down for a moment, wiggled its bottom and sprang to the next tree causing a cacophony of laughter from the amused children watching from below.

Ed laughed with them at every stop then urged them onward as best he could with less and less urgency. At this point, he knew they weren't making it to the river by nightfall, but they were going to make it. He just wished he could figure out what was still worrying him.

8:55 AM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Day and Day

It's raining inside

thick heavy lead

dripping

splattering

dropping

pooling

and I cannot move my feet

tears seep behind my eyes

where no one else can see

and all I want to do is sleep

pass the troubled day away

slipping into fitful slumber

covered

hiding

dreamless state

as my nights have lately been

flipped to fretful day

a glass full of hours turned

making shadows fade

cruel play

what is this game

where it is only day and day

and night

night is naught

not even dream

peace that never comes

I weep.

It is raining in me

thick heavy drops like lead

I cannot move

but I am not dead

frozen in place

but my veins still run red

this storm will not cease

until daylight has fled

and I can sleep

and dream without dread.

~Kim

Copyright 2008

1:32 PM - 7 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Killing Time - Silly Madness

With a sock

With a glock

Aimed at that ticking clock

Hit it with a glob of gunk

Stamp, stomp, dance, jump

Grind it up in little chunks

But will that make it stop

If I hop, hop, hop on top

Of that awful, awful ticking clock

It moves too fast

Makes future past

And when I look I am aghast

If I blink

Or if I wink

It slinks right past me, slink-slink, slink-slink

But then it crawls

What goddamned balls!

It has me banging my head off the walls

So, with this rhyme

I revolt! I draw the line!

I make my point! I'm killing time!

WHAhahahahahahahahaha!!!!!

12:24 PM - 5 Comments - 10 Kudos - Add Comment

While in the Park...

3:33 PM - 17 Comments - 13 Kudos - Add Comment

SinChildren: Curious (Post 72)

The children fanned out; Suran and Cullen to Ed's right and Lorelei, Roth and Malcom to his left. He glanced up at Romulus and Remus keeping pace just above the trees, sometimes landing in the branches while waiting for the others to pass beneath before taking to the sky again.

Now that he had a moment to clear his head and think, something about seeing the twins swooping about, through and above the trees caused him a moment's nostalgia. He was in the sky, circling above a garden until movement and sound he was unfamiliar with caught his attention. He lighted on a tree branch above a coupling. Enraptured and entranced, he watched, seeing the most beautiful glow growing around them as they touched each other with hands and lips and moved, coming together in rhythms he could not hear.

"Ed!" Suran yelled.

Ed's attention swam back and his eyes focused on a tree it was too late to miss. Suran dashed over, followed by the others. She knelt beside Ed and bent to lick the blood trickling from the gash across his forehead.

"This is ridiculous," he slurred. "We...we need to get...to the river." He tried to get up but his head swam and he let himself fall back onto the leaves before he threw up all over his assemblage.

"Fuck!" He squeezed his eyes shut against the flashing white spots in his eyes. "Run. Just go. I'll..." The Fell Hound ran up and, not missing a beat, scooped Ed up and tossed him over his shoulder and kept right on going down the hill. The children shrugged at each other and raced off after them as Ed fell limp where he'd been tossed; out cold.

"Curious," Lorelei muttered, almost to herself. She rolled the image of the shadow she'd just seen around in her head so that the others could see it. The shadow didn't belong where it was. It didn't move. It didn't think, but it was there, following them. The shadow was somehow alive and Lorelei was attracted to it, wanting to know its tricks. The more she tried to deny it, the more she was drawn to it until there were no thoughts in her mind other than it.

"You go. I will follow," Lorelei suddenly thought to the others then diverted her course, shimmering into a leafy camouflage and disappearing from view.

"Lorelei!" Cullen raged so that tears welled in everyone's eyes. "Ed says to river, to safety!"

"Safety?" responded Lorelei through thoughts in their own language. Behind the image of the shadow, her thoughts were, "We are not them. They will not stop. It will not expect just one looking for it. Play I am with you. I come soon."

She cast herself running beside them in their thoughts and giggled conspiratorially. They picked up on her plan and, laughing, thought her with them as they ran.

10:24 AM - 2 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment

Whispering

Teeth

Meant to bite through flesh, muscle

to rip, to tear

chunks from bone

Grind, Grind away

at meat, sinew

chop, carve, squeeze,

...crush

but lips and tongue

so sweet and soft

with which we kiss, lick

taste, caress

Send whispers through them

and they bite, tear and rend

grind, grind away

just as hard

Only they...

Only they cause wounds no one else can see

Cut deep, beyond flesh

They weep

Blood

Tears of understanding, of misunderstanding

Of not understanding

Of hurt and pain, frustration, anguish

...hate

But silence cuts too

There is no escape

No being kind

Truth hurts, lies hurt

Voices hurt and silence hurts

Love hurts, hate hurts

Pain

So much goddamned

mental

pain

It makes one grow numb

It should be bliss to no longer feel

But I'd rather be bitten

rather be eaten

than suffer the pain

of your whispering

11:31 AM - 6 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment

Incubus Succubus Seduction

The pain was sudden. Her eyes flew wide open in a moment's panic but instead of shrieking, she gasped then pressed her pussy against his mouth, toward where his teeth were clenched around her clit. He chuckled and relaxed his jaw, letting go his hold with his teeth but kept his lips sealed around the little nub as she melted back, an amused grin spreading across her face. He lifted his head away from her and they watched each other for a long moment until his tongue emerged from between his lips to flick and lick at the beckoning bud, then again to slide up and down along her slit. She elicited a moan of pleasure that became more intense as he slowly penetrated her with his fingers, first, exploring the ridges at the opening to her silken passage then sliding them in deeper to find all the secret places that made her speak to him with gasps and moans and groans.

On the outside, he alternately grazed the tender, sensitive flesh of her clit and labia with his teeth or lapped and licked at them with his tongue, tasting her, breathing her, drinking her. He was growing drunk on her musk and juices; and her power.

As he brought her toward her climax, her energy raced in crackling lines along her skin and tendrils of it snaked their way into him, feeding him the only sustenance that made him feel alive. When she came in panting breaths, her walls milked his tongue and she pressed herself hard against his face and mouth, holding him there, his head in her hands, while the rest of her shuddered, radiating with the release of her hunger and need in the form of raw, white-light energy.

When she opened her eyes, the succubus looked down her body at him and smiled, reaching between her thighs to coat her fingers with her glistening wet. Bringing her hand to her mouth, she sucked the nectar hungrily from her fingers and growled as she slithered down, positioning herself over his salient cock.

"Now it's my turn."

1:16 PM - 7 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment