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I live on the ocean, write women's fiction, love to read so much that it's an addiction rather than a hobby (I read an average of a book a day). I live on the wet west coast so it's a good thing that I like to walk in the rain.

Tuesday, October 26, 2010

Flash Fiction Exchange - Jiggy Bits, Part 2

You're gonna love Lisa's take on this month's title - Jiggly Bits. Here it is. Enjoy.

It’s October 31, and I’m suspended in a cage from the ceiling. Whirling lights catch on my silver-sequined bra and thong as I writhe and gyrate to the bumping base. It must be blinding to the men below but they stare anyway, their greedy eyes fixed on my jiggly bits.

They say Halloween brings out the freaks. If that’s true, it’s Halloween every day of the year in this place. The Flying Carpet is a crazy ride into your darkest, wildest fantasies. The owner, Saeed, promises something to whet any appetite, and from what I’ve seen, he takes that oath seriously.

That’s one of the reasons I love him, one of the things that keeps me coming back year after year. It’s a fine little agreement we’ve struck; I show up every Halloween and grant him three wishes (most of which involve dollar signs, because sex is just his business but gambling’s his vice) and he gives me my head. I can have whatever – whomever – I want, free for the taking.

It’s a smorgasbord in here. A bevy of beautiful dancers, a hoard of lost, lonely men, and oh, that tasty new bartender. He’s so eye-popping he makes me drool.

Tonight, though, I need a challenge. The game has gotten too easy; the conquests are over far too fast. I want a man who will wrestle me for control, who won’t give in without a fight. I want Saeed’s head bouncer, Rico. Saeed won’t be happy, but a deal is a deal. By the time I show up here next October, he’ll have forgiven me. And he’ll have gambled away most of the money he wished for, so he’ll need my services more than revenge.

As the cage drops toward the stage, I catch Rico’s eye. He knows who I really am, and he doesn’t like me. But he still wants me – still wants these long smooth limbs, this silky skin, these perfect curves. I fix my attention on him, ignoring the howls and whistles as I strut from the cage and grab hold of the pole, waiting for my song to begin.

“This one’s for you,” I mouth and point at Rico, smiling when he takes a step back. He’s never felt the full force of my power before, and it catches him off guard.

Everything about me catches him off guard. My heat, my taste, the way I make him feel when we’re finally alone, locked behind Saeed’s office door. Like he’s the best I’ve ever had, the most delicious thing on earth.

And he is. For about fifteen minutes.

I check myself in the mirror by the door. Pull a compact out of my handbag and powder my nose, run a comb through my mussed curls. Grinning at my reflection, I raise one long, red fingernail and slide it between my teeth to remove the offending evidence. I flick my hand, splattering the glass with gristle. That’s the problem with the well-built, muscular types. They’re a bit on the tough side.

Lady GaGa’s voice pumps down the hall, a siren song calling me out to play. I slide on some scarlet lipstick and head for the door, casting one last look at the headless body on the floor. Such a disappointment, I think. Rico wasn’t much of a fight after all.

Oh, well. It’s Halloween, the night’s still young, and ghouls just wanna have fun.

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