Sweet Dreams

The date had gone well. Jason enjoyed the feast Robbie had prepared, but a couple of glasses of cheap red and Jason went out like a light. Robbie watched him snooze a while, his broad shoulder rising slightly as he took in each breath. How did I get so lucky?

Robbie had several boyfriends over the years. High school boys were hard to find when he first came out his junior year, but the college scene was more tolerant and more guys were brave enough to come out.

Jason was the dream catch—a friend of a friend that he met at a Halloween party. Robbie showed up dressed as Frank N. Furter, fishnets and all.  Jason came as the Dread Pirate Roberts with a drawn-on mustache.

Jason had never been flamboyant. Robbie liked that about him. He was just a regular kind of guy who would kill a spider for you in the middle of the night, and—for some reason—accepted Robbie despite all of his crazy flaws.

Robbie sat in bed listening to Jason sleep and pondered over what this was. Was it love? Would this last? Would they get married, have a family? Robbie found himself unable to sleep but was still dreaming.

He sighed then reached over and grabbed his laptop. Might as well finish this term paper while I’m up. The clock ticked away the hours.

#

Jason rolled over and rubbed his eyes. Robbie slept but was propped against the headboard with his laptop open on his stomach. Jason smiled. How did I get so lucky? He reached over, closed the computer, and placed it on the floor. He hovered, just for a moment over Robbie.

Robbie seemed to be the perfect guy for him—quirky and funny, but intellectual and caring. Not to mention he was a fabulous cook. Where was this relationship going? Was this love?

Graduation was just around the corner. Soon they’d each be off to start their separate careers. But maybe, just maybe, this would last. God only knows.

Jason lay back down and pulled the cover over them both. He closed his eyes ready to return to his dreams. The clock ticked away the hours.

Another piece written for my writing group based on a picture prompt. It was the week's winner!

Tarmac

Nina swiped her card at the kiosk and printed her ticket. She wheeled her carry-on past the line of economy passengers and entered the first class lounge. Jerry was already there. He was surrounded by empty glasses and was cursing like a sailor to random strangers. Jerry hated flying and was sure to let everyone know about it.

“Save any for me?” Nina put her hand on Jerry’s shoulder. His eyes were unfocused. She hoped she wouldn’t have to have him carried onto the plane.

Jerry waved at the bartender.

“Bourbon. Neat.” Nina could hold her liquor. Not to mention flying was old hat for her. She didn’t need the liquor like Jerry did. “Are you ready for this?” she asked him.

“Hell no. I’ll never be ready. I hate airplanes.” He muttered several choice words and took a swig of his drink.

“No, I mean the deal. You have all your ducks in a row?”

“Yeah, yeah. Everything’s set. Now you just have to swoop in and pretend like it’s your deal. Never mind that I did all the legwork.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll get your cut.” Nina smiled.

The bartender clunked a glass down in front of Nina.

“Hey, can I get a receipt for this?”

Jerry looked sideways at Nina. “Cheapskate.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “It’s a necessary business expense.”

“Crocker’s here.”

“What? Jon? He’s here? I thought he was flying out of Dulles.”

Jerry motioned toward the observation deck.

Nina left her near-full glass on the counter and walked out to the deck. The sun was low enough to pour through the expanse of windows. Nina instantly recognized Jon’s silhouette. Her heart fluttered at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?”

He turned at the sound of her voice. “Nina.” His eyes lit up.

“I thought you were in D.C.” She crossed her arms.

“It’s not much of a drive up here. I couldn’t let you fly cross country alone with that lousy oaf.”

“Jealous?”

“Oh, please. I thought merely to rescue you from his drunken stench.”

“I can handle him.” Nina pushed her nose into the air.

“Still, you could use the company once he passes out. It’s a long flight.”

“What makes you think I would like you as my company?”

Jon raised his eyebrows and took a step forward. “Come on. I could impart on you my infinite wisdom about the business world.”

Nina burst out a laugh.

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. I don’t think there’s one bit of information you could give me that I need.”

“Oh? And what makes you so special?”

“Boobs. They will close the deal for me. No need for your wisdom.”

“You’re awfully confident.”

“They brought you here to Baltimore, didn’t they?”

Jon smirked. He took another step closer. “And what is it that brought you out onto the deck? I’m sure it’s not the view of the tarmac. Why aren’t you nursing some bourbon back at the bar?”

“You remembered my drink.”

“Hard to forget a woman who can handle her liquor.” He took another step forward.

Nina turned and feigned disinterest in him. “I do like the view of the tarmac.”

Jon took her arm and pulled her close. “I like this view.”

Nina allowed his arms to envelop her. She smiled…

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This story is another based off of a writing prompt. This week's prompt was to fit five words into the story: receipt, observation, wisdom, kiosk, sailor.

Mission Accomplished?

This is a piece of flash fiction that I wrote based on a photo given as a writing prompt in a writing group I'm a part of. Of the several submissions by authors, I was voted best of the week by my peers!

Chase’s pulse was steady as he raised the tip of the rifle over the dune. The target had gotten lazy. Entertaining his new dish distracted him from being careful. It was far too easy for Chase to track him.

Chase squeezed one eye shut, catching the target in his scope. His finger hovered over the trigger. "Get out of the way." The woman kept blocking the target. Her blonde locks reminded him of Samantha’s. Finally, a clean shot. The woman laughed. Her laugh reminded him of Samantha’s.

"Samantha?" Chase nearly dropped his gun. He raised his scope again, this time focusing on the woman. It was her. His heart raced. "I must complete my mission." He tried to steady the gun but his hand shook. 

Chase lowered the gun and blew out a breath. "Get ahold of yourself." He stole a glance over the dune. The dancers were departing. "It’s now or never." He raised the gun once more and peered through his scope. "What the…?" 

The target slumped over. The wine glass left a trail in the sand as it rolled away from his lifeless hand. Samantha dumped the contents of her own glass, stood up, and dusted herself off.

Chase smirked. "That’s my girl." He raised his light, hoping to signal her. She stopped suddenly, a look of concern across her face. She reached behind her back.

Chase threw his arms in the air and walked slowly toward Samantha’s pointed pistol. Her arms lowered slightly. 

“Chase?”

“Hey, babe.”

“Idiot. I could have shot you.” Samantha returned the gun to its hiding spot.

“I could say the same to you. What are you doing here?”

“Accomplishing a mission. You?”

“Same. Except my report back won’t be as impressive.”

“You snooze, you lose.”

“You could make it up to me.” Chase raised an eyebrow.

“Well, the tent is set up for two.” The corners of Samantha’s mouth curled up in that way that made Chase crazy.

He grabbed her waist and pulled her close, his hot breath on her lips. They retreated into the canvas shelter to celebrate…