These are my alternate prompts: Use these three words, juggling, laundry, bristle or the rhythm of life or Pardon me, but is that seat taken?
This week I started something new, not sure where it'll go, but I hope you like it. I used all the prompts. Don't forget to visit the other Flashers. They're listed at the end of this post.
Dallas in Wonderland
The apartment building was conveniently located near the bus line, the grocery store, and the park. School, food and relaxation all within walking distance. What more could a guy ask for? Moving off campus was the best decision Dallas Crosby had ever made. Well, second best decision. The first had been getting rid of his lying cheating boyfriend. Right after he caught him in their dorm room with the RA’s cock rammed up his ass.
And he’d had the nerve to claim nothing had happened. How stupid did he think Dallas was?
Never mind.
The last thing the jerk had said, as Dallas had removed every bit of evidence of himself from their shared bedroom was, “Dallas, please, don’t go breakin’ my heart. You can’t do this to me.”
Dallas could and he did. Right after he broke the cheating bastard’s nose.
The building was old, a converted Victorian mansion whose owner had fallen on hard times and had to divide it into six units, two per floor. Dallas lived on the third floor, just beneath the attic. Sometimes he swore he heard rats scrabbling about, and he’d offered to place traps there for the landlady, but Mrs. Persepolis had laughed his concerns off. He was hearing things. There was nothing there. Hadn’t been rats in the building for many years.
The basement contained limited storage space, as well as the laundry facilities for the tenants. Two washers and two dryers, but that was enough. With their disparate schedules, there was never a conflict among the tenants over the use of the facilities, for which Dallas was grateful. He juggled culinary classes during the day, with working in the restaurant of a four star hotel at night. Usually the only time he had to do his laundry was in the wee hours, when the house was still, and there was no competition for the machines.
Dallas would bring down either whatever Stephen King novel he was currently reading, or one of his cooking textbooks. While the washing machine agitated and rinsed, he’d prop his feet against it, his chair tilted back on two legs, the back of his head scraping the wall, the rhythm of life vibrating through his soles. It was a comforting feeling, and more than a little sensual. He sometimes daydreamed about what it would like to be fucked there, while the machine was going, either leaning against it or lying on top of it, while a big strong hotter than hell guy rammed himself into him.
With an imagination like that, he should have chosen to write porn for a living.
One of his favorite Stephen King novels was the Shining. He didn’t even care that they’d fucked up the movie, he loved them both. Jack Nicholson was sure hot. In a totally crazy way. Maybe that was Dallas’ problem. He had an irresistible attraction to psychopaths. Or was that sociopaths? To paraphrase Doctor McCoy, I’m a chef, Jim, not a psychiatrist
.
Dallas was also a big Star Trek fan.
What was that? He cocked his head, listening. Although, to be fair, with the washing machine thrumming the way it was, hearing anything outside of this room was rather difficult. Plus he had his iPod blasting in his ear. Bach. Toccata and Fugue in D Minor. Phantom of the Opera music. The movie, not the musical.
He turned the page, losing himself in Jack Torrance’s troubles. All work and no play…
He heard it again. This time he was sure. Footsteps. Coming his way. He hastily brought the chair back onto all four legs, and closed the book, after placing his bookmark inside of it. The hairs on the back of his neck began to bristle, in the way that they sometimes did just before a storm, when the air’s full of static electricity and mischief.
The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.
If he didn’t get his mind off of men with axes, he’d never be able to go to sleep tonight, and then he sure as shit wouldn’t be able to function tomorrow. Probably one of the other tenants coming home. Maybe wanting something out of storage. The storage area was separate. Each tenant had a key to the room. Dallas didn’t keep very much there himself. He didn’t have very much.
Slipping back into his book, he was very much surprised to hear a cultured voice ask, “Pardon me, but is that seat taken?”
A slender figure stood in the doorway. At first glance, Dallas made his age to be somewhere in the forty-five to fifty range, not from his appearance, which was completely toned and fit, but something in his eyes seemed to hold the wisdom of the ages. Startling eyes they were. He wasn’t aware that copper existed in the palette of the human eyes. But here it was. Copper with hints of green. Hair of a muted red, pulled back from his forehead, and tied into a long plait which fell over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
“Um… um… no, you didn’t.” Too late, Dallas realized he’d inadvertently dropped his book onto the floor. Guess he was more rattled than he let on. With a deft movement, the newcomer bent to retrieve it, his movements sure and graceful. He presented the volume to Dallas with a smile.
“Allow me to introduce myself. Dr. Samuel Levi, at your service.” He made a slight obeisance with his hand, rolling it from his forehead to his chin, with a graceful gesture.
“Oh, a medical doctor?” Dallas asked.
“Alas, nothing quite so useful.” His laughter was soft, cultured. “An honorary title given to those whom the world cannot decide what it wants to do with.”
Dallas thought this man looked man than useful. The back of his neck was tingling again.
“I’ll bid you good night, Dallas, I hope we meet again.”
Only after he’d gone did Dallas wonder how he knew his name.
Now go check out the rest of the flashers!
! Lily Sawyer (m/m) |
the answer to your question is YES I want to see more!
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