aesthetic_mojo | Entries tagged with prompt

Call it stereotypical if you will, but I live with cats.

We had no pets when I was a child, only working animals--guard dogs, hunting dogs, near wild cats who kept down rodents. It wasn't until I had a flat of my own in London that I had anything resembling a pet. Stanley is a force of his own making, however. My responsibility was to rescue his sorry kitten ass and get him through his first year. The instant he was big enough to routinely scale the staggered balconies in my building, he was gone. At least I had the good sense to fix him or I'd have faced some municipal fine and the enduring hatred of my neighbors.

Almost immediately upon deciding to make a second home in the States, I was presented with the opportunity to host unique kittens. The little ~~monsters~~ darlings are perfectly normal in every respect except that they can teleport. They pop in and out of rooms, appear underfoot, much like any other cat. Don't ask me how they do it, they just do. I'm getting used to it, slowly.

Age 16—He was more nervous than she, but only because she had no idea he planned to kiss her. During hours every day with the herbs tutor, he’d talked to her constantly, stood close to her, and asked her opinion on things she didn’t care about. It was done at her father’s command.

Age 18—Almost a year away from her family. Months gone by with no sign at all of anyone following her. For once she let down her guard and let a man chat her up enough to ask her out. He kissed her good night after a pleasant dinner, but she never let him see her again.

Age 19—One of her first professors, not so much older than she. When the course was complete, she asked him out. She was never in love with him, too much had to be kept secret, but she did desire him. Losing her virginity held no mystery for her, but it did feel damn good.

Age 23—Two years with no lovers and she wanted one. Not a boyfriend or a buddy, just a lover she could visit when she wanted. She chose a married man who made a habit of sleeping with younger women. It was a cold blooded exercise.

Age 27—He was a client, so she said no time and again. Only after he proved that he had another appraiser coming did she give in. She was a notch on his bedpost.

Age 30—She let a woman take her to bed just the one time, as much so she could say she’d done it as anything. The woman was breathtakingly beautiful, enjoyed sex immensely, and, best of all, had a great sense of humor. They still talk occasionally, but she had no urge to ever sleep with another woman.

Age 31—After her birthday, drunk in her hotel room for no good reason, she kept the room service delivery boy in the room. Best birthday in years. At least it was spent with someone.

Age 38—He was a stranger, a man with enticing eyes and a wicked sense of humor. All she wanted was to let off some steam. She took one look at him and knew she could expect enthusiasm, creativity and discretion. She got enthusiasm. And creativity. And she got back a part of her soul.

Age 38—Just kisses. Kisses with the promise of something more, some day. She has no idea why she hesitates with him, but she knows it’s best. Or maybe she’s just a coward?

Age 38—The challenge was about something else entirely. She hadn’t teased him about that for some time. Still, he ends up in her apartment, in her bed. There are no words, she has no idea why or how.

447 words

( But seduction isn't making someone do what they don't want to do. Seduction is enticing someone into doing what they secretly want to do already. -Waiter Rant )

"If you tell your story, you own it. If you don’t, if you keep it hidden, it owns you."

Standing in the back garden, well out of sight of the house, twelve year old Charlotte had lifted one petal after another from the heirloom rose. They floated toward her until they circled her, dancing around her head and shoulders. Her hair floated up, mixing with the fragrant petals until she looked like a fairy child. If anyone saw, she would endure an excruciating lecture on proper behavior and wasting her abilities. No one would ever know the beauty she created in that moment.

Even speaking to Death, she hadn’t been honest. That Death, the Death, the one you see at the end, hadn’t gotten the full story. Withholding the details of her life was that automatic. Another being stepped up with a gift designed to protect her and still she shared nothing. Only with Grady had she let anything slip and even he only got hints.

He would know what he needed to protect her. She would show him what she could still do and explain what she had once been able to do. All of that was precursor to telling him what the people he shielded her against could do. In the name of history and duty, they learned magics no one should use.

Something deep inside her kept her from ever connecting with the rest of her family. Not as a child and certainly not now. They saw it as a flaw, of course, but she held it as a strength. When she left them she pushed everything they were aside. With that, she realized now, she had pushed aside a great deal of herself. Touching Grady reminded her of the simplest things, ones she hadn’t even thought of in years.

With him watching over her, even for just a few days, maybe she could finally show someone what her gifts could really do.

From a Muse_Playground prompt

Current Mood: contemplative
Current Location: Paris

The few hours alone in her room each day were the most treasured moments of Charlie’s day. Allowed to wash and dress alone, she was as well permitted to prepare herself for bed. There was no dawdling, of course, but as she aged she was allowed longer to prepare herself. Her appearance reflected on the family, after all, and appearances were everything when you were the first daughter.

Sometimes she found that time while she did her school work if her keeper decided she was focused enough on her work to leave her to it. She had to complete the work, there was no slacking, but she could stretch. She could laugh at something she read or swear in frustration at a difficult math problem. She could, for those few minutes, be more than a pampered princess. She could be human.

When she left that house, she stayed in a series of filthy motels that reeked of sex and pain. The walls were flyspecked and the television didn’t work beyond showing her fuzzy images of people performing unlikely sexual acts. Men who saw her in the parking lot sometimes banged on the door of her room at odd hours.

None of that mattered because of one thin piece of plastic she could hang from the doorknob whenever she wanted. “Do Not Disturb” were the sweetest words she’d ever heard.

Charlotte Blaine Everton

Antiquites Expert and Witch About Town

Entries tagged with prompt

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Here kitty, kitty [for charloft

10 Sexual Encounters [for justprompts]

Only a job, like any other. [RP with gradyforhire]

Telling

Do Not Disturb