Gordon’s Weekend/Onward #writephoto

Photo by Sue Vincent

It was a long, winding road that seemed to stretch endlessly before him, surrounded by mountains and fields.  It was a drive he normally enjoyed, especially after a hectic week at the office but today, he was too tensed up.  Relax, he urged himself.  You’re doing the right thing.  You’re ending a relationship you had no business getting into in the first place.  You’re getting married in a couple of months time to an incredible woman.  Yes, he was marrying Tessa, something he had been looking forward to for a long time.

His family liked her.  They thought she was the best thing that had ever happened to him.  She was different from the other women he used to date.  In fact, she was not the type of woman he was usually attracted to.  And when they met, it wasn’t love at first sight for him and he wasn’t even interested in more than a platonic relationship with her.  But, after his bitter breakup with Christina, Tessa had been there for him.  Her friendship had helped him through those dark moments.  And little by little, as time passed and as they spent more time together, his feelings for her began to change.  They started dating and then last year Spring, he popped the question.

Why on earth did he get involved with Chanise?  Sure, she was a very attractive woman but there were other women at the office who were very attractive too but he never once looked at any of them.  Yet, the moment he met Chanise, he was attracted to her.  And it didn’t help when they were paired up to work on two very important campaigns.  There were a lot of late hours in the office and working closing together.  He was so conscious of her that at times, it was near impossible to concentrate.  He was relieved when the assignments were over and things went back to normal but he couldn’t stop thinking about her and sneaking peeks at her when they were in the office.  Her desk was adjacent to his.  He could hear her talking on the phone and tried not to listen.  When Tessa called him, he spoke low into the mouthpiece so that Chanise couldn’t hear.

Last year at the office Christmas party, they both showed up without dates.  Tessa couldn’t go because she had a bad cold and Chanise had broken up with her boyfriend.  He tried to avoid her for as long as he could but half way through the night, they ended up talking and then they were slow dancing.  By the end of the night, he was ready to take her back to his place because it was closer.  When he mentioned it to her, she was up for it.  That’s when he knew that she was attracted to him too.  That thrilled him and after saying their goodbyes, they left.  No one seem to think anything of it–after all they were co-workers.  As far as they were concerned, he was just giving her a ride home.  No big deal.  Besides, he was engaged, right?

They didn’t say much in the drive over to his place.  At any time, he could have changed his mind and taken her straight home but he didn’t.  He wanted this.  If he were honest with himself, he would admit that he had wanted this since they met.  As soon as they got to his place and after removing their coats, he took her to his room where she spent the night.

Even though he was plagued with guilt after that first tryst, it didn’t stop him for doing it again and again.  Pretty soon, they were having an affair.  When they were at the office, they acted like nothing had changed between them.  The funny thing is that when they were together, he didn’t think about Tessa at all.  It was only afterwards, when he was alone that he did.  He hated what he was doing to her.  She had no clue.  She trusted him.  He felt like a complete jerk but every time he tried to end his affair with Chanise, he chickened out the moment he saw her.

Last night, he couldn’t sleep.  The guilt was weighing heavily on him.  He had to end his relationship with Chanise.  He had to.  And today, he was on his way to do that.  They were supposed to be spending the weekend at his cottage.  It was in an idyllic rural setting.  He bought it a couple of years ago.  It was his escape from the hustle and bustle of the city.  Tessa loved it and thought that it would be a good idea for him to sell his flat and make this their home once they got married.  She loved the countryside.  He loved it too but wasn’t sure that he wanted to move out of the city.  Besides, being in the city made it more convenient for him to see Chanise.  Chanise.  He sighed heavily.  Breaking up with her was going to be very, very hard but he had to do it.

Her car was parked outside of the cottage when he got there.  Heart racing, he turned off the engine and got out of the jeep.  He walked up to the door and opened it.  She was in the living-room.  She got up from the sofa and went over to him, smiling.  “Hello, Gordon,” she murmured as she put her arms around his neck.

Unable to resist, he hugged her tightly against him.  He buried his face in her neck.  “Chanise…” he muttered thickly.  I can’t do this, he thought.  I can’t break up with her.  He raised his head and his mouth sought hers.  As they exchanged kisses, he picked her up and carried her upstairs to the master bedroom.

Tessa smiled as she drove along the winding road, her eyes danced behind the sunglasses as they swept over the mountains looming ahead. Hold on Tight by R3HAB, Conor Maynard was playing on the radio.  It was the same song that was playing the night Gordon went over to her place after breaking up with his ex.  They sat on the sofa not saying anything.  She knew that he didn’t want to be alone at the moment and she was just there for him.

I bet, he’s going to be surprised to see me, she thought.  She was supposed to be spending the weekend with her aunt in Bristol but her aunt had gotten the dates mixed up.  This weekend she was going to be in Manchester so they were on for the following weekend.  Tessa didn’t mind at all.  She was driving up to the cottage to be with Gordon and looking forward to spending a nice, romantic weekend with him.  She couldn’t wait to see the expression on his face when she showed up unexpectedly.  She laughed at thought and pressed her foot a little harder on the accelerator.

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Onward at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

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No Longer a Man’s Game

My husband, Don and his friend, Juan went clay shooting.  I wasn’t invited.  Don didn’t think I’d be interested.  What he doesn’t know is that I recently joined the Shotgun & Chelsea Bun Club after a friend introduced me to shooting.

I never thought I’d enjoy firing a gun.  But I love that feeling you get when you shoot a moving target in the sky.  And I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to challenge the misconception that shooting is a man’s game.  The number of female shooters is rising.

I’m heading out now to the Club to join my friends for an afternoon of shooting.  Afterwards we’ll have tea and cake.  This is how I spend my weekends.  During the week, I’m an Ad Exec juggling different accounts but on the weekends, I’m the Annie Oakley of clay shooting.

One of these days, I’ll tell Don about the Club.  He’ll get a kick out of it.  Maybe, we’ll compete against each other.  I bet I’d win.

166 Words

This story was inspired by the BBC report about women who wanted to showcase how social and how much fun shooting is and that it’s not just for men.

This was written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy and Joe. For more information visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Source:  BBC;

No Makeup

He watched her as she approached him.  Beautiful with the face of an angel.  She made his heart sing and his eyes dance.  Her hair fell in luxuriant waves over her slender shoulders, cover most of her arms and the top she was wearing.  She looked like a mermaid walking on earth.  He stood there, arms folded, just watching her.  A broad smile broke on his face when she stopped, folded her arms and watched him.

It was his cue to go to her.  He quickly closed the distance between them.  It was when he was standing in front of her, that he noticed the makeup.  It was the first time since he knew her that she wore it.  Bright red lipstick, blush and eyeliner.  His expression became very serious.  “What have you done to your face?” he asked quietly.

“I wanted to look beautiful for you,” she replied.

“You don’t need makeup for that,” he told her.  “Here, let me take it off.”  He took out his handkerchief and gently rubbed off the blush and the lipstick.  “Much better.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “My girlfriends told me that makeup enhances women’s looks, making them appear more attractive in the eyes of others.”

He stuffed his kerchief in the back pocket of his jeans and held her face between his hands.  “It was your fresh, scrubbed clean face that I fell in love with,” he told her.  “You don’t makeup to bring out those amazing eyes of yours or the natural glow of your cheeks or the shape of your mouth.”

She smiled up at him.  He always said the most romantic things to her.  Right now her heart was fluttering and she was more in love with him than ever.  “No makeup then,” she said.

He smiled.  “No makeup.”  He lowered his head and kissed her.  Her lips tasted sweet and he drank them like they were nectar.  These are the lips that I want to kiss for the rest of my life.

Back in the Saddle

PHOTO PROMPT © Jilly Funell

Initially, she had been nervous going to the JP Morgan’s Re-Entry Program, a 14-week training experience for women like her who left the workforce but after being encouraged by family and friends, she decided to go for it.  Besides, she missed working.

She had left her job to be a stay at home Mom of three but now that her husband was deceased and the kids were grown, she longed to be among the working class.  Concerns about ageism had prevented her from venturing out before now.

Here goes.  Taking a deep breath, she climbed the stairs.

97 Words

This was written for Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here. To read other stories  based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Source:  Gender Fair

Waiting on the Docks

Photo by Michelle De Angelis

As the boat neared the docks, he looked for her and his heart leapt in his chest when he saw her.  She was leaning against the warehouse, waiting for her father.  He hoped one day that she would be waiting for him.

She turned when she heard them approaching.  Flaming curly red hair framed her beautiful face.  He knew that it was foolish for him to feel this way about a girl who was not yet twenty and still in school but he couldn’t help it.  Maggie had gotten into his system and there wasn’t anything he could do about it.  He knew because he had tried.  He had tried to get over her with other women but soon realized how pointless that was and how unfair it was to them.

Maggie’s father was the skipper and he was the engineer.  They got along very well.  The other man treated him like a son but he wasn’t sure what his reaction would be if he knew how he felt about his daughter.

172 Words

This was written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers hosted by Priceless Joy. For more information visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

His Muse

Photo by Sue Vincent

The painting was almost complete.  He just had to add a few touches.  Painting landscapes was never his thing but he had been forced to paint them since…He tossed the paintbrush down and got up.  He walked over to the window and stared out into the street below.  It was quiet now.  It was Sunday.  Almost everyone was in church.  He had stopped attending Sunday mass three years ago.  He had stopped doing a lot of things three years ago.  Three years ago she had stood right there by the door, ready to removed her coat when her cell rang.  He had no idea who called her but after she ended the call, she grabbed her knapsack and said, “I have to go but I will be back later,” before she pulled open the door and rushed out.

He waited all day for her to return or to call but neither was forthcoming.  Three years later and she hadn’t returned.  He had no idea where she was.  Maybe she went back to her home in Benin.  She was the reason why he stopped painting people and started painting landscapes.  He had broken his own rule of never mixing business with pleasure.  She was supposed to be his muse–that was all.  He had painted hundreds of women before and not once did any of them stir any passions in him.  He was immune to them.  To him there were just muses.

Then, he met her one day at the gallery where his work was on display.  She was eighteen at the time.  Her youth was so refreshing.   She wasn’t beautiful or even pretty and her eyes seemed too large for her small face but she intrigued him.   He wanted to paint her right then and there.  There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that she was going to be his next muse.  After they left the gallery, he took her for a cappuccino.  She was a bit hesitant at first although she was flattered that he wanted to paint her but he was very persuasive.

She turned out to be the perfect muse, inspiring him to produce his best work.  He churned out painting after painting.   She sat there day after day, still as a statue.  He supposed that it was gradual but one day he realized that he that he had fallen for her–of all he foolhardy things to do.  He was twice her age, for pity’s sake.  He thought of finding another muse to replace her but he couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing her again.  She had brought light and joy into his otherwise dull existence.  Life without her would be intolerable.  He didn’t replace her but it became increasingly hard to paint because he couldn’t concentrate.  Instead of painting her, he wanted to take her in his arms and…

He leaned forward, his palms flat on the window seat, his tortured gaze scanned the horizon.  She was out there somewhere.  His life was empty.  There was a great big chasm and his heart ached every time he remembered how she had literally run out of his life.  He never got another muse.  No one could replace her.  Oh, Johari, my inspiration, my grand passion, my torment.

He heard a sound behind him and turned.  His face became ashen when he saw her standing there.  If she didn’t blink, he would have imagined that she was an illusion.  All sorts of emotions churned inside him.  His hands curled into tight fists as he tried to hold them in check.  Part of him wanted to take her in his arms and lavish her with kisses while the other part wanted to lash out at her for the misery she had put him through.

“I came back, Adriel,” she said, moving closer.

He didn’t budge.  “Yes, three years later.  Where have you been all this time?”

“I’ve been in Benin.  That day when I was here with you, I got a call from an uncle that my father had fallen ill and that I was needed home right away.  I got the first flight out of London.  I helped my mother to look after him until he recovered.  My mother asked me to stay until she could afford to hire a private nurse.  I tried calling you but there wasn’t any answer.  I think your cell was off.  I wrote to you while I was in Benin but you never answered.  Adriel, you must know that only a family emergency would make me leave you.  All the time I was away, I thought about you and missed you.  I wondered why you didn’t write me.  I thought you were out of the country or busy with gallery showings or—that you had met someone.”

He quickly closed the distance between them.  “I’ve been here all this time,” he told her.  “Missing you and wondering where you were.  I had my phone turned off and I never received any of your letters.”

“So, there isn’t another woman…?”

He shook his head vigorously.  “No!” Groaning, he reached for her and pulled her into his arms.  “I couldn’t be with anyone else even if I wanted to.  I love you, Johari.”  He covered her face with kisses, unable to help himself.

She hugged him tightly about his waist and murmured, “I love you too.”

They stood there in the sun-dappled room locked in a passionate embrace.  He stopped painting for a long while and he no longer had any need for a muse.  They got married in a quiet ceremony in Saint–Paul–de–Vence, one of the oldest medieval towns on the French Riviera.  When he returned to painting, he did portraits while Johari worked in a museum which featured his work.

 

This was written for the #writephoto Prompt – Faraway at Sue Vincent’s Daily Echo.

A Shocking Discovery

PHOTO PROMPT © Dale Rogerson

It was pouring outside.  Vera sat at the bar.  Although she felt out of place, it was better than being at home, crying over Dave.  What a shock it had been when she discovered that he’d been paying other women for sex.  I thought we had a happy marriage and a healthy sex life.

 “Vera? What are you doing here?” It was Dave.

I should ask you the same question.

“You shouldn’t be here. I’ll call a taxi.”

“Why can’t you take me home?”

“I have an engagement.”

She slid off the stool.  “Yes, I think she just showed up.”

 

100 Words

 

This story was inspired by an article about wives and girlfriends who discovered that their men were paying for sex.  We often hear stories about the women in the sex industry, but we don’t hear much about the women whose men pay for these services.

This was written as part of the Friday Fictioneers challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields For more details, visit Here.  To read other stories based on this week’s prompt, visit Here.

Source:  The Telegraph