Archive for the ‘Karen Schindler’ Category

GOOD CLEAN FUN: By Karen Schindler

Thursday, March 4th, 2010

LYCANTHROPY  CONTESTANT

 
Right in the middle of my very meager and very late night dinner the intercom buzzer went off. It’s so loud that even when I’m expecting it the damn thing nearly scares me to death. Well, if I could die from a heart attack, it might scare me to death.

I walked over and pushed the talk button:

“Who is it?”
“Marcus”
“Marcus, what the hell are you doing here at this hour?”
“I have to see you. It’s an emergency.”
“Are you bleeding or is there a bone sticking out of you somewhere? Because that’s an emergency at 2:00am, but as far as I’m concerned nothing much else is.”
“I’ve been thinking about you all day and I just have to see you.”

Ah. A booty call by a twenty five year old in the middle of the night. That’s all I need. I’d have to change, shower, put some makeup on, what a pain. But then my appetites and an idea hit me at the very same time.

Marcus is a succulent Italian dish and it had been a while.

“Ok, I’ll buzz you in, but I have to hop in the shower, so you just come in and have a beer and wait while I get freshened up.”

I buzzed him into the lobby and left my door open a crack. I’d have a minute or so before he got up the stairs. I scurried into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

I hid in the closet where I could look out through the slats to see if he came into the bathroom. About a minute later he came into the room on tippy toes. He stripped, and crept toward the shower. Just as his hand made contact with the curtain I bounded out of the closet and caught him by the neck in my jaws and around his taut middle with my claws.

His eyes widened as he saw me, then all the blood left his face as I dragged him into the shower. It’s so handy when they take their clothes off first, then there’s no need to spit up the zippers and buttons afterwards.

As it turned out having dinner in the shower was very convenient since all of the fluid splatter just went right on down the drain.

Even with the water running I was relieved that my shower curtain is plastic and easily rinsed down, because Marcus turned out to be even juicier than I thought. 

It always seems like any time I have Italian I just get it everywhere .

________

©2010 Karen Schindler

Karen Schindler writes even when she’s not writing. A wonderer, a cherisher of life and experiences, she lives with gleeful abandon and pulls others into her wake. Karen’s fiction, poetry and essays have been or are about to be published in Eclectic Flash, Voxpoetica, WeirdYear, Flashes in the Dark,  Blink/Ink, InkNode, the upcoming Pill Hill Press and Lame Goat anthologies and online and in the print anthology of the 52 Stitches 2010 line up. You can see more of her work at Miscellaneous Yammering.

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FRESH IS BEST: By Karen Schindler

Thursday, January 14th, 2010

Tessa looked at him over the top of her dessert menu.  Not bad, full head of hair at least; he had a traveling salesman sort of look about him, a little soft around the middle maybe.

 
Nothing that tying him to her bed for a couple of days couldn’t fix.

 
He caught her looking at him and tried to stare her down. She won. He swallowed hard and went back to his newspaper, sweat beading on his upper lip.

 
God, she was in bad shape. She walked around with her hind brain ruling her actions most of the time these days. She was going to have to move on soon, there was beginning to be talk. But she figured she had at least another week in this sleepy little town.

 
On the bus last night she just couldn’t help herself. When she saw that young stockbroker again, the one who always wore the brown hat that didn’t match his suit; the one who never gave his seat up no matter how pregnant or old the woman, she locked eyes with him as she sashayed up the nearly empty aisle of the downtown bus. She sat next to him, close, her thigh against his. She squirmed in her seat to hitch her skirt just high enough so the black garter belt snap at the top of her stocking peeked out.

 
She casually slid one pointy red nail down her thigh up and down, up and down. When she could see and feel and smell that she had his full attention she slid her nail over to his thigh, sliding first one then two then four fingers up and down his thigh, the third track leaving marks in the cloth.

 
He sat rigid, his hands gripping his briefcase between his knees breathing hard and sweating.

 
Tessa leaned over and breathed a silky question into his ear.

 
“What’s your name honey?”

 
“Tom, Tom Anderson.”

 
“Well, Tom, Tom Anderson, would you like it if I slid my hands inside your clothes?”

 
“Someone will see……I mean yes, I’d like that….but someone will see.”

 
“Not if we put your briefcase next to you like this, and pile our coats onto it like this, and put your hat on top like this, now we have a little fort just for ourselves Tom, Tom Anderson……”

 
Tessa sat back down but this time straddling him and kissed him with her scarlet mouth. She slid a red talon into his mouth and looked hungrily into his eyes. She loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt and slid her sharp nails down his chest onto his stomach.

 

She unbuckled his belt and kissed his neck and ears leaving lipstick trails over his flushed skin.

 

He ran his hands over her lush body making little happy sounds in the back of his throat. She let him unbutton her blouse and close his hands over her breasts before she plunged her nails into his flesh. She watched his eyes as her nails pierced his body and her now scarlet hand pulled out his liver.

 
The gurgling sounds stopped after a minute.

 

Tessa gently placed the liver onto the seat next to her. She wiped her hands on his shirt and pants and then straightened her clothes. She took some butcher’s paper from her purse and lovingly wrapped the organ and secreted it inside the oversize bag.

 
It was just too bad that the driver and those two old ladies had seen her face. She was fond of this face and didn’t want to replace it just yet.  Only the driver had screamed. 

 
Tessa was jolted out of her reverie when the waitress came with more coffee to ask if she had decided.

 
“I’ll just have some apple pie with ice cream Doris, I had liver and onions for lunch and I’m pretty full.”

 
Tessa refocused on the man in the back booth. She saw him slip his wedding ring off and put it in a pocket. 
_______

©2009 Karen Schindler 

Karen Schindler writes even when she’s not writing. A lover of words her whole life she is amazed and awed when she can string sentences together that impact another person. Karen has been or is about to be published in Eclectic Flash, Voxpoetica, WeirdYear and both online and in the print anthology of the 52 Stitches 2010 line up. You can see more of her work at Miscellaneous Yammering.

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