I spent a couple of miserable hours in the raw cold and wind at the viaduct at East 15th and Avenue Z, hoping to catch lightning in a bottle there as I had the last misty day. Alas, no luck. The forecast calls for decent weather the next two days.
Here's an excerpt from a short story, Dream Father, available in the A Hitch in Twilight collection. Print or Kindle, link below. The clip is about a five-minute read:
Dave thrashed violently to his right, casting the quilt to the floor. A moment later he thrashed violently to his left, and the bed sheet flew from him. Images flashed through his mind at lightning speed: hungry lips, swollen nipples, burning flesh; moans, cries, exhortations; oral delights, feverish groping, penetration. He was spinning in a vortex of Kama Sutra, dizzy with desire, a passenger on the world's newest and grandest amusement ride: The Spanish Fly. This was a virtual reality more exciting, more satisfying than reality could ever be. There had yet to be a term invented to capture the intensity of such an experience. He spun deeper and deeper, uninhibited, fearless, diving toward a climax sure to be monumental. And Ruthie was with him every step of the way, exhibiting an instinct that proved exact, striving to reach that exalted place that so often eluded her.
He sprang awake, breathless, incoherent. Soon the buzz of the alarm penetrated his funk, and he regained his sense of time and place. He slapped angrily at the radio, silencing it. He fell back to the pillow, respiring heavily.
"Damn you," he said, rapping the mattress with a fist. It'd been more than a month since Ruthie had called and related the dreams she'd been having. And every morning since then he'd had one himself. He cursed her for having put the bug in his ear, for refusing to allow him back into her life. She was now celibate, she said, although she masturbated, or at least she had until the dreams had begun. She had no need to now. She claimed she hadn't been with a man since she'd thrown him out. When he suggested her subconscious was telling her it was time to find a lover, she scoffed and said she was perfectly satisfied with her present circumstances. She reached orgasm every time and didn't have to suffer the heartaches a man would inevitably inflict. He called her a moron and hung up. He suspected she'd invented the entire scenario just to sting him. And she'd succeeded. He regretted having cheated on her. He did not understand why he had. He loved her.
Vic's 4th Novel: http://tinyurl.com/bszwlxh
Vic's 3rd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/7e9jty3
Vic's Website: http://members.tripod.com/vic_fortezza/Literature/
Vic's Short Story Collection (Print or Kindle): http://www.tiny.cc/Oycgb
Vic's 2nd Novel: http://tinyurl.com/6b86st6
Vic's 1st Novel: http://tiny.cc/94t5h
Vic's Horror Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/cyckn3
Vic's Rom-Com Screenplay on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/kny5llp
Vic’s Short Story on Kindle: http://tinyurl.com/k95k3nx
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