Saturday, 20 November 2010

Letter of Apology

This isn't a story. And it's not easy for me to tell. This is something I carry with me. It wasn't easy to write because it was pretty personal. I would send it to the person herself but.. if someone reads this and it helps them realize how hurtful they can be, then I'll be glad. It's so easy to be cruel when you're part of a group. But that doesn't make it any more acceptable.


Here's the thing. I was bullied as a child. But that's not the story. That story is too easy to tell. Covered in a patina of humor and nostalgia, that story is kind of a fun story. It's a story I pull out and tell during lulls in dinner conversation.

The story is that I was a bully.

I never spent very long at a school. Grade school wasn't particularly special. It flew by in a haze of jump rope, school yard taunts, oddball teachers, and kool-aide. At the beginning of middle school, my parents, in their infinite wisdom decided to move me somewhere new. Awkward and new, I didn't fit in very well. I never managed to make any real friends and I disliked most of the kids around me. Not to be outdone, most of them disliked me too. I was subjected to some impersonal bullying and petty little taunts. I had some people I was friendly with, I had some people I was unfriendly with... it wasn't really a big deal. Then I moved again.

I moved to smaller school where everyone seemed to be the same. Determined that I wouldn't repeat my last experience I decided to be friends with *everybody*. Except this one girl. Because there's always a girl in these stories. If I wasn't that girl, then someone had to be, right?
The girl wasn't our friend. The girl wasn't *any body's* friend. She was different you see. She didn't understand us and we didn't understand her. If I was a better person, I would have felt a sense of kinship for this girl who could not manage to belong. That wasn't the case.

I hated this girl. The girl who did nothing but be herself. This girl had so much pressure bearing down on her. Daughter of a teacher, new to the school, different, afraid.. we could have been friends I think, if I was a better person. But you see everyone else hated her too. So why should I be different?

I wasn't. Except sometimes I think I was more cruel than anyone. I tortured this girl. I snubbed her, I mocked her, I called her names.. one time I even raised my hand to her in anger. I wish I could say I felt but about it but.. the more horrible I was to her, the better I felt. You see, I said to myself, she deserves it. She's too strange, too different, she doesn't belong with us. After all, everyone else was doing it.

The only person I know who was smart enough and brave enough to say no was my friend, M. She refused to judge the girl for being something other. She was kind to her. Often she would tell us to lay off the girl. M couldn't stop us though, no one could. I wish someone had.

I will always regret my cruelty to that girl. Who was brave enough to keep being herself through three years of torture. Who tried her hardest not to let us break her. I hope we didn't break her.
The story could end here, with me carrying these regrets, wondering what happened to the girl I bullied. But we live in a digital age. We live in the era of facebook and twitter. Every life you touched will find a way back to you.

The girl, she got back in touch with me a while back. She was friendly and sweet to me. She's happily married with kids. She seems well adjusted. We've never really spoken of those years we spent in the same school. I've never asked her to forgive me. I don't think I have the right. But I will apologize.

A? I'm sorry. I hope you don't carry any pain from those years. I hope you know that I regret every horrible thing I said or did to you. I hope you're happy, I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.

Saturday, 13 November 2010

Bad Romance

Disclaimer: I don't know that I like this really. It was simmering for a while then it kind of died in production. It feels a bit like a place holder just because I didn't want to get out of the habit of weekly posts. For some reason I'm finding the male psyche particularly inaccessible tonight.

Mild heterosexual content. Practically G-rated. Romantic? Atypical male pov. I guess.


She's the kind of girl who'll always take that first sip of coffee too soon, no matter how many times it burns her tongue. She can't hold on to patience. Besides, she tells him, it's worth it. That's how she is.. grabbing every moment and living it like it's special. Ordinary everyday things like coffee and newspapers and walking across the yard. She wants to touch, taste, smell, hear, see everything. She tells him she wants to eat sunlight. Sometimes he's afraid she'll devour him whole. Oddly enough, he's not afraid.

He once told her she was the most adventurous girl he knew. She laughed and shook her head. I'm not though. I'm not anything really. I like living, that's true but sometimes I'm very boring. I like the fact that I'm pretty ordinary. I've got.. you know... She waved her hands in an all-compassing gesture that could have meant anything from chaos theory to dish washing... layers.

You're like an onion. Because he was a moron. But she only looked at him fondly and told him he didn't really have a way with words tonight. Then she removed his palm from his face, touched her fingers to her lips, then to his cheekbone. I like it.

The thing is, he could see his future in her. Every moment stretched into forever. It wasn't just love. It was all his years with her laid out before him. He could see the house and the children and the life they'd have. With all it's ups and downs, its joy its stifling domesticity even the fights they'd sometimes have. He couldn't believe how much he wanted it. Only with her. She didn't know it yet but he's already committed to her.

Still, it was almost like he couldn't tell her. A thousand fathers, brothers, grandfathers, uncles, friends stood in his way. That wasn't what guys did. Endless generations of men in his head demanded to know what kind of pansy he was. Maybe he wanted to give her one of his little handbags, balls included.

You're wrong he told them. You've always been wrong. He was glad that he's never really listened to them. With some guys it took an extraordinary moment to shove those voices down, and there were always those who never managed to do it. Maybe he wasn't quite as good as the guys who never heard that crap from their selves to begin with, but he was proud of the fact that he'd never bought into it. Not once in his life.

He caught her wrist before she could dance away and told her. She smiled with delight and said it back.

I love you.

Saturday, 6 November 2010

Playing Favorites

Disclaimer: Pure smut. Seriously, this is porn with absolutely no redeeming value whatsoever. You have been warned. I wash my hands of this. Seriously. It's just wrong. If you're not legal and I find out you read this I will personally find you and kick your ass. Not in a good way.


Sometimes we'll fuck in the daytime, warm and lazy in our unmade bed while the golden afternoon sun shines in through the open window. Curled up together exchanging whispered endearments... sex is slow and sweet as molasses. Our lips touching and our limbs intertwined I can't tell where she ends and I begin as her fingers move inside of me. My heart feels full to exploding with all I feel for her and I know that I have nothing to hide. I love you I tell her. IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou. I whisper it over and over as my lips brush over her mouth, her nose, her cheekbone. I can't get enough of those moments. Making love.. it sounds so trite, so clich├ęd but at that moment, I don't care. There's nothing quite like it. It's beautiful. But it's not my favorite thing.

Sometimes it happens that we're out... and we can't resist the urge. Surrounded by bodies and music, I whisper in her ear, I want you. We'll scramble out the back, into the dark alley. It might be stupid but I feel like I'll die if I can't have her right there. I push her up against the wall, push her collar aside, bite down on knotted muscle and then lick and kiss the pain away, an apology of sorts. I palm her breast and push her dress up, grind my thigh against her. Theres nothing but damp thin cotton between my skin and her pussy. I press harder as she rubs herself against me. Her fingers dig into my skin as she grabs my shoulder. Harder she grunts, and I give it to her. I laugh, I'm so turned on but this is fucking crazy. It's dark and there's no one near but anyone can walk in. I tell her that and it turns her on even more. Fuck but she's hot. Gasping harshly, she comes right there with the brick wall digging into her back. It's the wildest thing we've ever done, but it's not my favorite.

She loves to be in control and she loves to force me out of it. She loves to drive me out of my mind. She's slowly, purposely, driving me crazy. I don't know how long it's been but it feels like forever. Her wicked fingers and her sinful mouth bring me to the edge over and over again. I'm drenched in sweat and every muscle in my body is rigid with tension. It's been too long, so much.. too much. Every single fucking time I think this is the time, she draws away and leaves me grasping at the feeling she's denying me flees with her touch. The sheets are starting to feel like sandpaper against my skin. Her touch is torture, too much and not enough, never enough. I curse her name with every ragged breath. And still she denies me. I feel like I've been crying, begging, pleading for ever but every time I think she'll relent she proves that her heart is made of fucking stone the cunt. My breath is harsh to my own ears and I can hear my heart pounding. I fucking hate her, why won't she just give me what I need? I promise her anything, everything if she'll just let me come. But she won't, she'll only let me when she's good and ready. When I've lost every shred of sanity. My fingers scrabble at the sheets, simultaneously wanting contact and shying away from feeling. I can't anymore. I'm seconds from pushing her away and taking matters into my own hands. I just can't take anymore. I can't. Just when I think I'm about to break, just when I think I'm about to scream, it hits me. She finally letting me find my release. I am blindsided by my orgasm. I don't know who or what I am anymore. All I know is pleasure, white hot sliding through me. It's the most intense thing I've ever felt.

I'm wrung out, barely able to lift me head as she lays a gentle, almost chaste kiss on my lips. Good? She asks. I smile and nuzzle her face. She always knows how to give me exactly what I crave. And that? That's my favorite thing

Now Playing: Mercy - Duffy

Saturday, 30 October 2010

(Body) Parts

Author's Note: So I'm feeling self indulgent and I though I would indulge in some light-hearted feel-good fiction for once. So I came up with this. Just over 500 words. Seriously self-indulgent. Child of my desire to write, some interesting DMs on Twitter over the last couple of days and one lovely fan who I didn't want to wait anymore (Not the same person). You have been warned.


It started with a hand. Thrust out of her car, lazily riding the currents as she drove by. You smile, but god what a hand. Strong mobile wrist wrapped in a distinctive cuff, tough but delicate... I was a little in love with that cuff. Her thumb ring flashed in the morning sun and I wanted to take the pad of that finger into my mouth and ever so gently bite down, let her know I was there. Those nimble fingers rode nothing but air and I wished I could ride them instead. Oh, it was just a hand... if just was a word that could be said about that hand. A hand that made a heart stutter for just a second. Nothing even need be said about the capable looking forearm, with the sleeve rolled up to just above the elbow. How an elbow can be a such tease I can not know.

Then came the jaw.. different day, same cuff, same hand. A flash of determination and excellent bone structure as she walked into my store. This book she asked, do you carry it. I knew I didn't but I couldn't let her go just like that. The books may be used but they're well loved and I know them all just like any proper mother would, not considering that I'd idly wanted it for myself for quite some time. Still I couldn't let her go, I couldn't find it in my heart. So I typed in names and titles and numbers; offered her conversation and options while that jaw made its frustration clear. It softened just a little at the offer of coffee. I wanted to put my fingers there and touch my lips to the edge. Instead I bit my tongue and stole glance from beneath my lowered lashes. Before my ravenous eyes could map every line and curve of her face, I had to admit defeat. I called around but a copy couldn't be bought for love or money. The jaw clenched and unclenched, she could not be swayed from her search I thought. I promised to keep an eye out, contact her if I found it. I could not find it in my heart to turn that face away for good.

That might have been that if it wasn't for the dimple. She shrugged and smiled and apologized for her abruptness, and I couldn't have stopped myself if I'd tried. I shouldn't be doing this I said but I find myself unable to say no to you. I have a friend, he deals in books as well. I can't call him, he's been away for days. If anyone can hunt it down I know he can. I asked him for it myself and he promised to deliver in a few days time. I couldn't help a little frown. I wondered if she would smile at him like that as well. Instead she gifted me with another. Maybe I could pick it up from you instead. I looked down at the words she had scrawled down. But his store is much closer to you than mine. Her teeth flashed as she turned up one shoulder and told me she knew, she saw me there one time.

Now Playing: So Happy I Could Die - Lady GaGa (;*)

Monday, 19 April 2010


So I thought I'd try my hand at writing hetero fiction. Then I decided in for a penny, in for a pound. I'll right het from a male perspective. Not just any male. A stereotypical misguided douchebag. You think my bias is showing? (I know that's not all you guys out there, but probably what I'd be if I was born with a Y chromosome, half my male relatives, and 40% of my male friends.)


She said, "Listen, you're not really my type but I'm horny, you're available, and I have an oral fixation. So how about I suck your cock."

That's when he knew he hit the fucking jackpot.

She tells him that even though he can be a stupid fuck sometimes, he's still her friend and she doesn't want sex to fuck that up. She asks him if he's going to be weird about it.

She's obviously crazy about him.

That's what girls do, you know. They play mind games. They pretend they don't want to marry you and have your babies so that you'll want to marry them and impregnate them and shit.

She is so obvious it's a little sad.

She pretends that she doesn't mind when he fucks other girls when he tells her about it. She even asks when she's feeling particularly friendly. "Are you still seeing that girl from that party?"

She's pretending of course. Why else would she not fuck anybody else but him?

He asks her that and she laughs and asks him why he'd think that. He tells her he can tell, that he's the only one she's been with. She looks a little nervous, like maybe she's afraid he'll know that she's in love with him. She asks again if he's going to get weird about it. He bets she's waiting to get him to propose or some shit. Probably has the dress all picked out.

She tells him that there are a couple of guys, but she's not serious about anyone. She's lying of course. Wants him to get jealous. Trap him into something he's not ready for. Fucking girls.

So of course he's when she sits you down and tell him she can't be fucking around with him anymore. She met this guy, thinks he's special. Has he been reading the signals wrong? Is he on a completely different page? Fuck it, she's probably making shit up to get him to commit. Fat fucking chance. She's the one who's in love with him. After all, girls can't separate sex and feelings, they're just not built that way. Scientific goddamn fact.

So he tells her fine, yeah, what the fuck do es he care if she wants to break things off. He's got dozens of girls he could fuck instead. Hundreds even. She looks worried for a second, probably scared that her little plan isn't working. What does she expect, him to get down on one knee and declare his undying love? Fat fucking chance.

So he waits for her to come crawling back to him, but it's a month or so before he sees her again, but for the occasional 'friendly' facebook shit. He sese her at a party once, wrapped around some dude. He wonders how she knew he's be there, and how she got the poor shmuck to play her boyfriend. All that effort to get into his head with her little mind games.

So he avoids her. The traitorous bitch. Trying her best to break his heart.

He sees it a few months down the line. An honest to God goddamn engagement announcement. He can't believe the lengths she would go to, just to get him to fucking commit.

She's probably going to marry that poor bastard. Trap him into a life of monogamy. Waking up to her face every morning. Pretending to be in love with the sucker. Kissing him all open mouthed and dirty like a fucking whore. He bets that bastards can't get her breath to hitch just the right way when he fucks her just right. He bets the fucker's got a tiny dick. Looks like he has a small dick. She's settling for a guy with a small dick who doesn't even know how to fuck her right, all in an attempt to get over him.


What I'm Listening to Right Now: Love Will Tear Us Apart - Joy Division