Monday, March 18, 2024

TUESDAY TALES - MARK

 


Howdy doodles and welcome!
 
The authors are writing stories to the word prompt "mark" this week. I have more of "Two of Hearts" this week. To read the other stories, click HERE

 
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She filled her plate a second time. “So how are things with Clare?”

“Not so good. She hasn’t answered when I’ve called. We’re scheduled to talk tonight at eleven. I’m sure there are good reasons. I don’t exactly know when her classes are. But I don’t like it. I can’t sleep if I don’t know that she’s safe, wherever she is.”

“I get that.”

“How’s Stan doing?”

“Moving into a private room tomorrow. They don’t know how long he’ll have to be there. Depends on his recovery. But I’m guessing maybe four days, then home.”

“How will you handle him here?”

“Good question.”

“Have you hired help?”

“I contacted a service. I hate having a stranger living in our house. But I won’t be able to handle Stan alone. He’ll be in a wheel chair because he broke the leg and wrist on the same side. So, he can’t handle a crutch. Not yet, anyway.”

“It won’t be forever.”

“I’ll have to move out of the guest room.”

 “You’re sleeping in the guest room?” His eyebrows shot up.

She took a drink of wine and blinked rapidly. “I can’t stand sleeping in our bed without Stan.”

It was his turn to comfort. Terry reached across the table and squeezed her shoulder.

“I understand. I hate sleeping without Clare.”

“Oh, of course. Then you get it.”

“I do.”

Terry finished the huge plate of food, then added a little more. “How’s your writing coming?”

“My writing?”

“Yeah.” He cut a meatball with his fork.

“I’m not writing.”

“Why not?”

“All day at the hospital. Making plans for bringing Stan home. Dealing with that fucking brat, Marcy.”

“But you’re home at night, right?”

“I get home around six, usually.”

“And what do you do with the evening?”

“I collapse.”

“That’s no excuse.”

Anger filled her. “What do you mean that’s no excuse?”

“You have plenty of time to write. You’re being a baby.”

She stiffened. “I need Stan.”

“Bullshit.”

“You don’t know…”

“You’re a grown woman. You can write or not write. It’s your choice. And all the excuses in the world aren’t going to change that.”

“You’re pretty high and mighty. What do you do with your empty evenings?”

“Ah, good one. Change the subject.” He smiled and looked at his plate, then up at her.

“I thought that was pretty clever.”

“You’re not going to weasel out of this so easily, Jen. If you want to write –and you say you do—then write, God damn it!”

Indignation warred with hurt feelings. Jen had no come back, no reply. She sipped her drink, staring at him with angry eyes.

“Why do you have to be so damn right?” She hated when she got petulant but couldn’t stop.

Terry burst out laughing. “Glad you admit it.”



That's all. Thanks for stopping by. 

Monday, March 11, 2024

TUESDAY TALES - SWALLOW

 



Welcome!! It's time for Tuesday Tales and another episode of "Two of Hearts". This week we're writing to the word prompt "swallow." Don't forget to hop on over and read the other stories by the talented authors of Tuesday Tales. You'll find them HERE. 

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The doorbell interrupted her sexy thoughts. Uh oh, not good to be thinking like that with an attractive man on the other side of the door. She swallowed a mouthful of water, fanned herself for a few seconds, then let Terry in.

His casual attire impressed her. She figured he’d come right from the office. But he’d changed. Too bad. Not that he didn’t look good in snug jeans and a T-shirt, but a man in a suit and tie made her swoon. But Terry wasn’t here to make her swoon, was he? Nope, he was here to be her friend, and help her eat a mountain of food. 

He handed her a heavy bag. She pulled out a bottle of fine wine. She recognized the label.

“I love this brand. Thank you! Come on in,” she said, stepping back.

“I’ve never seen a townhouse where one family lived in the whole thing,” he said, looking around.

“We only live on three floors.”

“Only?” He cocked an eyebrow and grinned.

She sensed a blush in her cheeks. “I don’t mean to sound like a snob. We rent out the upper two floors. Stan bought this twenty-five years ago for a song. The place was a disaster, so he told me. He spent a year renovating. Just because Stan won the Nobel doesn’t mean we’re rich.”

“I’m sorry. That was presumptuous of me.” He wandered toward the back.

“I mean, we’re not hurting for money, but not rolling in it either.”

“I get it. This is beautiful. Did you decorate it?”

“Yes.”

“You did a fantastic job.”

“Thank you. I can take you on the grand tour after dinner. Are you hungry?”

“Starving,” he replied, following her into the dining room. She had set the table in festive spring colors of pink and green. After indicating his seat, she handed him a corkscrew.

“Would you mind?”

“Of course,” he said, picking up the bottle while Jen retrieved wine glasses from a corner cabinet.

She headed for the kitchen and returned with a serving dish of meatballs and one with pasta. Last, she fetched a large wooden salad bowl filled with fresh greens.

“Wow! This looks great.”

“Rigatoni with meatballs. It’s my favorite,” she said, passing him the pasta.

Terry loaded his plate. She watched as he chowed down. Lord, it looked like he hadn’t eaten in a week. She smiled.

“Something funny?” he asked, between bites.

“No, no.”

“Come on, come on. You’re hiding something,” he said, gesturing.

She laughed. “Okay. You look like it’s been a month since your last meal.”

He blushed, immediately making her sorry she’d said anything. She squeezed his forearm.

“It’s a great compliment to the chef. To see you enjoying the food.”

“This is truly great. You have a gift. I don’t know about your writing, but you could be a professional chef.”

She filled her plate a second time. “So how are things with Clare?


That's all. Thanks for stopping by. 

Monday, March 4, 2024

TUESDAY TALES - KICK


*

 Hello and welcome! 
I'm part of this group that writes to word prompt each week. This week the word prompt is "Kick". We are again taking a peek at "Two of Hearts" this week. When you're done reading my story, hop on over to read the excellent stories by the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find them HERE

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“I don’t have any single friends anymore, except maybe Kathy. And all she does is complain. I don’t need that right now. Terry’s a positive person. Even if he is going through shit with Clare. It’s okay.” When she faced the pug, he took a quick swipe, catching her chin with his tongue.  Jen laughed and gave him a quick pet. “Good boy, Willie.”

She closed her eyes but was too keyed up to sleep. She only asked Terry as a friend. Of course he was attractive. She might be upset, and distracted, but, hell, she wasn’t dead. He was taller than Stan, and broader in the shoulders. Could he have played football in college? Stop comparing him to Stan! Stan was her hero, and always would be. But Terry was a friend, a good friend.

She’d figured out that he bought both of those cream puffs for himself. Otherwise why did he have two? He couldn’t count on running into her. Yet he gave one to her, and it was the right thing to do. The cream puff brought her back, gave her the kick she needed to see that she’d do whatever was necessary to help Stan. Still those dark eyes held mischief, as if he had secretly seen her naked or something.

His wife was a lucky woman to be married to a man who could do that. Jen guessed they had an amazing sex life. She turned her thoughts to her first time with Stan. It had been the most romantic and erotic evening of her life. She’d never forget it. The way that man made love was enough to curl her toes just thinking about it.

She pushed up and padded barefoot to the kitchen. She plucked a bottle of water from the fridge. Stan knew how to get her hot, zero to sixty in ten seconds –and sometimes simply with a look. She smiled at the memory of seeing him across the room at a deadly dull party. He’d been buttonholed by a boring economist when he glanced at her. The heat from his stare, slowly caressing her body, had made her shiver as it traveled up and down. She had rubbed her forehead, made up an excuse about a headache to the hostess, and approached Stan, appealing to him to leave. He’d shaken hands with the economist, then returned home, and spent two hours making love to her.


Monday, February 26, 2024

TUESDAY TALES - ICY

 


Howdy do! Welcome! Tuesday Tales is where several talented authors gather to write to a word prompt. The prompt this week is "Icy". I'm continuing with my story, "Two of Hearts." Find the marvelous stories of the other authors HERE

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After making arrangements for a private room for Stan and setting up help when he arrived home, Jen had no patience for Marcy's icy attitude. She ignored the young woman as much as possible. By the end of the day, her head ached. She needed to get home, have peace and quiet and create something. That’s when the idea of an Italian meal hit her. Her favorite was meatballs with rigatoni.

With all the fussing, Stan was worn out. He fell asleep at three. Jen instructed Marcy how to feed him his dinner, blamed her headache, and left. In the taxi, speeding downtown, she thought about dinner. She didn’t have any single friends anymore. The last thing she needed was a happy couple buzzing around. Besides, Stan would want his condition kept private. Then Terry popped into her head. He’d be the perfect solution. He was alone and probably missing a home-cooked meal, and he already knew about Stan.

She called him from the cab. Nervous when she recorded the message, she hoped she didn’t sound like an idiot. Whatever the outcome, she’d reached out to him, as a friend. Next stop was the grocery store. She needed supplies.

Once she schlepped everything in the house, she dropped her purse, greeted Willie, and headed for the kitchen.  She flipped on the radio to a classical music station and donned an apron. As she prepared the sauce, she noticed her headache had vanished. Chopping, stirring, mincing, and tasting had taken her mind off Stan. At first guilt swept through her, then she rationalized that she needed to keep her strength up to take care of him. Besides, she deserved a bit of down time.

She hummed along to the Mozart piece as she prepared the salad. Now, to whip up her home-made Caesar dressing! By five, everything had been prepared. She took a leisurely shower, dressed in a black velour T-shirt and pants and lay down on the sofa. Willie jumped up, snuggling next to her.

“This isn’t a date, Willie. I’m a happily married woman. I have invited a friend to dinner. That’s all. Just a friend.”

The pug raised his eyebrows.


That's it for today. Thanks for stopping by. 


Monday, February 19, 2024

TUESDAY TALES - WOOD

 




 Howdy! 

Welcome to Tuesday Tales where a group of authors write stories to word prompts. The prompt this week is "wood". We have another episode of "Two of Hearts" again this week. When you've finished reading my story, visit the other authors and read their stories. Find them HERE

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His brow furrowed. If she wanted to talk to him, then who could the voicemail be from? His touched the button.

“Hi, Terry? This is Jen. I’m having a shitty day at the hospital and thought I’d drown myself in a big Italian dinner. Cooking is sort of a hobby for me. I need something. I know you’re missing home cooking. So I thought maybe, if you didn’t have plans, you’d like to come over for dinner? I mean, I can’t eat all that food myself. Dinner’s at six. Just come over, if you can.”

He quirked an eyebrow. A dinner invitation from Jen? Of course, he didn’t have plans. The thought of a home-cooked Italian meal made his mouth water. He saved her number, then sent this text.

 

                 Thanks for the invite. Sounds great. See you at six.

 

As he walked home, he pondered her invitation. It made complete sense, she was alone, he was alone –why shouldn’t they eat together? No reason, none. He wondered why she hadn’t invited a girlfriend. Maybe she didn’t have any? From what she said, she had a busy life with Stan. Whatever her motives, he was grateful to be invited. On the way home, he stopped at the wine store. Bypassing the cheap Chiantis, he opted for a bottle of the good stuff. Fifty bucks. You can’t bring crap to a dinner at the private townhouse of a Nobel winner, can you?

When he entered the apartment earlier than usual, he took Queenie by surprise. She had been sound asleep on the sofa and barked at the intrusion.

“It’s me, girl.”

He had an hour to kill, so he showered, put on his best jeans and a T-shirt and shrugged a plaid flannel shirt over it to protect against the early May chill. He harnessed the pug and they hit the elevator.   

When he returned, he stopped to comb his hair. No aftershave. That was for Clare. This wasn’t a date, just two friends getting together for dinner. Two lonely friends, sharing a meal –that’s all it was and that didn’t rate aftershave. He picked up the small shopping bag with the wrapped bottle of wine, fed the dog and headed for the front door.

A little tension gathered in him as he approached the big wooden door of the elegant townhouse. He hoped Jen didn’t have anything more in mind than a nice dinner and chitchat. This was his first dinner alone with a woman that wasn’t a business dinner since he married Clare. He figured a little nervousness would be appropriate. He rang the bell.


That's all. Thanks for stopping by. 

Monday, February 12, 2024

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "HAND"


Hello, welcome to Tuesday Tales where authors write stories to word prompts. The word prompt this week is "hand". My excerpt is from "Two of Hearts". When you've finished reading my story, please hop on over to the other authors works. You'll find them HERE  

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Terry walked in a different direction so he wouldn’t run into Jen. The last thing he needed was to be explaining why he couldn’t reach his wife last night or the night before. A simple text telling him she was still alive kept him from worrying. But his plans to fly to L.A. that weekend turned to dust. 

His bad mood hovered over him like a rain cloud. He scowled at people on the train and hurried into his office with barely audible greetings for his staff. He opened his Starbucks coffee and leaned back in his chair. As confused as angry, he had no clue, what was happening. One minute he was having awesome Skype sex with his wife, and the next she wasn’t answering his calls.

Since she texted him, he decided that would have to be his mode of communication.

 

                 Can get cheap fare to you this weekend. Will take two days off to make it

                 four days. Does this work for you?

 

   She’d still be sleeping, so he’d have to wait for an answer.  Terry turned his attention to his work. As hard as he tried, he couldn’t stop checking his phone every few minutes. After two hours of starting several projects and not finishing any, he threw his papers on the desk and exhaled. Today would be a nonwork day. Disgusted with himself and his wife, he pushed to his feet and went to the window. The walls closed in on him, stealing his breath. No way could he wait out the day.

   Back at his desk, he looked up Mask of Gregorio, the movie he’d wanted to see with Clare. It was playing in his neighborhood theater. The next showing was in forty-five minutes. Perfect! He’d buy a sandwich, go to the movie, then go home afterward. He sent an email to his partner, raised his hand asd goodbye to his staff and left. 

   In the movies, he couldn’t check his phone every two seconds. Settled comfortably in the reclining seats, he unwrapped his sandwich and directed his attention to the screen. His shoulder muscles relaxed against the cushiony faux-leather. After the coming attractions, the suspenseful movie filled the screen, totally occupying his mind.  

   Two and a half hours away from work and worry relieved his mind. He smiled and rose from his seat. Turning on his phone, he was surprised to find both a text and a voicemail. His grin widened. Clare must be feeling guilty. He checked the text first.

 

                 Call me tonight. Eight my time.

 

His brow furrowed. If she wanted to talk to him, then who could the voicemail be from?

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. Don't forget to tune in next week to find out who called!




Monday, February 5, 2024

Tuesday Tales - Word Promp "Run"

 







Welcome! This week, we're writing to the word prompt "run". I have another excerpt from "Two of Hearts." Today, Terry is out walking Queenie and feeling bummed his wife, Clare, didn't answer his call when he runs into Jen and Willie.  When you finish, bop on over to the other authors and read their terrific stories. Find them HERE

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“What’s wrong?”

“He’s not Stan. Not the man I married.”

“What do you mean?”

She sniffled, dipping into her pocket for a tissue. “He’s, he’s feeble. Feeble is the only word to describe him.”

“Feeble? Hell, lady, the guy just woke up from a coma. Do you expect him to run a three minute mile?”

“ I expected him to talk, be forceful, criticize everything, declare he was going home and no one could stop him. To be masterful, strong, determined. But he wasn’t any of those things. He was meek. Stan Hogan, meek? I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Give him a chance! A chance to bounce back.”

“Do you really think he will?”

“Hell, Jen, it’s the first day. You need to be patient.” He unsnapped Queenie so she could sniff Willie’s butt.  

“Patience has never been my strong suit.”

“Things change.”

“I know. And for better or for worse. I guess after five years of great, I could learn to deal with a bit of worse.”

“Nice talk! What would Stan do if the situation were reversed?”

She laughed. “Either he’d be crushed and fawning all over me, or he’d just walk out and hire someone to take care of me.”

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“Maybe you could hire someone to help you when he comes home. He is coming home, isn’t he?”

“The doctor is optimistic.”

“Have you eaten anything today?” Terry asked. 

She scrunched her face up. “I think I had a breakfast sandwich on the way to the hospital.”

“Hell. You can’t deal with this on an empty stomach.”

“I couldn’t possibly eat anything.”

“Wait here,” he said, handing her Queenie’s leash. He ran back to the apartment and grabbed the white bag on the credenza. Huffing, he slowed as he neared the woman and the dogs. Queenie barked and wagged her tail.

“One for me, and one for you,” he said, plucking two cream puffs out of the bag.

She shot him a quizzical look.

“Cream puffs. Yeah, not exactly healthy food, but guaranteed to make you feel better.”

She smiled. “If you say so.”

He took a small bite of his, to make it last. Yes, it would help with the fact that Clare hadn’t been home and hadn’t called back. He took another bite and let the superb cream roll around his tongue.


That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by.