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| 255 two-fisted |
The link to my picture didn't work all day, so, as I wrote this, I had a slightly different picture in my head. I had her on a couch, so I put that couch in a Mafia office and then in a bar, but now things are working and I see that it's in a courtroom. Oh well, this just ensures that my versions won't copy anyone else's. I hope you enjoy them anyway.
V1 - The Lion's Den
She leaned back on the couch as if she owned the place. She knew that the Goldmans were the ones who had her husband jailed, but she believed in walking in to the lion’s den when you wanted to talk to the lion.
“Why?”
“Because,” my chickie he said, “he was in the way.” His eyes molested her as he spoke. She could feel his aged fingers pawing at her flesh though he sat across the oak-lined office. She felt dirty. “Now my Girl,” he moved towards her as his goons watched, “what are you going to do to help get him out?”
She had anticipated this since Charles was led from the court in ankle irons.
She stood, unbuttoned, and dropped her jacket to the floor. Her skirt dropped next, and, besides the hat, she was naked before the old man.
She kneeled before him in his leather chair and tried to earn her husband’s freedom. He hardened slowly in her mouth; age was taking a toll on the patriarch. As she swallowed his bitter seed, he collapsed back in his chair and told her to fuck off. The goons stepped in and picked her up off the floor. Big men they were, “two-fisted men” as her mother would say. She was thrown back on the couch and her body held open. As they took turns on her, she repeated the offer she made every month. “I know where the money is, help me.” And like every month, they laughed, and took their turns.
V2 - 40's Night
“Why?”
“Because,” my chickie he said, “he was in the way.” His eyes molested her as he spoke. She could feel his aged fingers pawing at her flesh though he sat across the oak-lined office. She felt dirty. “Now my Girl,” he moved towards her as his goons watched, “what are you going to do to help get him out?”
She had anticipated this since Charles was led from the court in ankle irons.
She stood, unbuttoned, and dropped her jacket to the floor. Her skirt dropped next, and, besides the hat, she was naked before the old man.
She kneeled before him in his leather chair and tried to earn her husband’s freedom. He hardened slowly in her mouth; age was taking a toll on the patriarch. As she swallowed his bitter seed, he collapsed back in his chair and told her to fuck off. The goons stepped in and picked her up off the floor. Big men they were, “two-fisted men” as her mother would say. She was thrown back on the couch and her body held open. As they took turns on her, she repeated the offer she made every month. “I know where the money is, help me.” And like every month, they laughed, and took their turns.
V2 - 40's Night
She picked her outfit to match her favorite movie-star though she never remembered her name. What did it matter anyway? The clothes wouldn’t last long. The party had a 40’s theme and she got as close as she could. As she surveyed the crowd, she wished she had vintage lingerie underneath. She loved the modern lines of her thong, but she thought it was out of place and hoped her boyfriend wouldn’t mind when he removed her skirt. He would, she was sure of it. She had planned this carefully, the introduction, the flirting, the work day at the trade show, the “mix up” on the reservations that forced him to sleep in her hotel room. It was all happening according to plan.
He walked over to her with a drink in his hand and kissed her on the mouth. He had started drinking hard and was getting sloppy. Damn him. She needed him on his game. She needed him hard. He flopped down beside her and put his head on her shoulder. FUCK! Already? She couldn’t believe it.
She stood up and let him fall sideways on the couch as she walked away. The blonde bartender laughed as she approached, “Your boy’s quite the two-fisted drinker isn’t he.” Shaking her head, she replied, “I needed his two fists somewhere else tonight,” blushing at the admission. The bartender put a hand on her shoulder, “I have two fists, and they fit everywhere.” She smiled and ordered her ex-boyfriend another drink and they walked away together.
He walked over to her with a drink in his hand and kissed her on the mouth. He had started drinking hard and was getting sloppy. Damn him. She needed him on his game. She needed him hard. He flopped down beside her and put his head on her shoulder. FUCK! Already? She couldn’t believe it.
She stood up and let him fall sideways on the couch as she walked away. The blonde bartender laughed as she approached, “Your boy’s quite the two-fisted drinker isn’t he.” Shaking her head, she replied, “I needed his two fists somewhere else tonight,” blushing at the admission. The bartender put a hand on her shoulder, “I have two fists, and they fit everywhere.” She smiled and ordered her ex-boyfriend another drink and they walked away together.
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Ram's web-site has been down all day so I can't link back to his original challenge, but we had 255 words to use the picture and the phrase "two-fisted."
Have a great Friday!
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