Time for another #WritingChallenge!

Writing Challenge BubbleWe’re still laughing about the funny and fabulous entries to our last #WritingChallenge – brilliant!

Now, a #WritingChallenge for all you authors who love to write a feisty heroine…

Your heroine has just discovered her boyfriend’s a cheat – what happens next?

Give her free rein but do remember – any swear words will mean your comments will need our approval before they get posted…!

Happy writing!
The Sold Editors x

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  1. Mary F

    With shaking hands, Doris put together a casserole for Benjamins’s dinner.As far as she knew it was his favourite. A stray tear fell down her face into the designer pot. She took a quick glance at the tablet on the table Cathy,some waitress,just posted more pictures on social media kissing Benjamin and bragged about her great new relationship in a rambling post. Well, Cathy was in for a shock. Benjamin would never leave his plain girlfriend. Her bank account more than made up for her introverted personality and nondescript appearance. Doris banged the oven door so hard it nearly fell off the hinges.
    She slumped to a kitchen stool. Perhaps if Benjamin got new car he’d forget about Crafty Cathy. 
    Anyway, she could fake another pregnancy if he moved to jilt her again. Someday he’d realise they belonged together. Marriage was out of the question though,as it gave joint property. That would make him more vulnerable to the Crafty Cathy’s of the world.

    • margie

      Hi Sarah. At the bottom of this page is a window that says, ‘Leave a Reply’. Fill in your details and in the ‘comment’ area, paste your entry.
      Hope that helps.

    • margie

      I really feel sorry for Doris-but I have hope for her. I think when Benjamin doesn’t turn up for dinner, Doris sends a tablet message of her own– a photo of his dinner left out on the porch!

    • Sold Editors

      You’ve created a really powerful situation and certainly inspire a lot of pity for Doris. But at Harlequin we do find that sometimes the most empathetic of heroines are the ones who realize that they deserve more than the terrible situations they find themselves in. The desperate lengths that Doris is willing to go to are psychologically interesting however, we’d love to see Doris realizing she can do better than Benjamin!

  2. Karen Christopherson

    “It’s now or never.”
    “What are you talking about?” Graham blinked twice, his face flushing scarlet, as Sam’s hands wound tighter around the collar of his dress shirt. He swallowed tightly as the whole office grinned in shock watching from their desks. This time she’d really done it! First the drunk fest at the Christmas party, then stumbling into work late in the mornings and then returning from lunch a drunk mess and now making a spectacle in the office!
    “You said you were interested two weeks ago at the Christmas party. Are you or are you not?” Sam waited impatiently for his answer. Graham had been interested in her for months and now he was going to wimp out just because everyone was watching? She needed a man right now, not a little boy. She wound her fists tighter into his shirt and curiously realized he had unbuttoned his top two buttons today. She watched him gently sniff the air, his nostrils subtly flaring. “Are you smelling me?” she asked, and shifted in her stance. She didn’t know what to think of that. No one had ever smelled her before.
    “No…I mean…well, yes. I’m checking to see if you have been drinking.”
    “Are you interested or not, Graham? I don’t have all day and this is the last chance you will ever get!”
    Graham heard the snickers of several of the employees and he shifted. “Fine,” he gritted and blushed again, before motioning toward the exit. “Lead the way…”
    She smiled and grabbed his arm, dragging him behind her. “I’m taking Graham,” she yelled over her shoulder at the whole office. “I need someone…to talk to.” She smiled to herself. That’ll show Patrick! He wasn’t the only one who could cheat!
    Graham rolled his eyes as he let Sam haul him through the office. When Patrick found out, he knew he would be canned. He didn’t care so long as he got to have sex with Sam. But first, he needed to know she was for real and not just doing this for effect. “Hold on,” he said, swinging her back into his arms, before punching the elevator button. “Have you been drinking?” he asked her as she looked up into his face. She shook her head. “Good.” He bent his head down to kiss her and she flinched away. He took a deep breath and looked into her eyes. “If you don’t kiss me right now, I’m not going with you,” he warned.
    “Fine.” She was intending to have sex with Graham anyway, so why was she pulling away from him? Because it was Graham! That’s why! The answer came loud and clear! Graham the cute, but way too nice guy who watched her walk by his desk every day! The guy who brought her a tea and left her cookies on her desk! The guy who knew her deepest and darkest secrets, because she phoned him every night crying that Patrick wouldn’t commit!
    “Stay still.”
    She was still moving away from his lips. Cringing actually. She couldn’t breathe and then she finally inhaled. She kind of looked at him oddly as if this wasn’t the same guy she had worked with for three years. He wore a subtle, pleasant cologne, unlike Patrick who was quite the cologne whore. And she noticed when his arms wrapped around her that he felt bigger than at the Christmas party. He felt strong. Buffed actually. “Have you been working out?” she asked.
    “Everyone is watching us,” he said, mere inches from her face. “And, if you arch any further away from me you’re getting on that elevator alone,” he stated before closing the distance between them.
    His lips were soft, but surprisingly demanding for such a sweet, amiable guy. Her eyes were wide open and his were closed, so she closed hers too. His arms got a little more comfortable around her waist as he raised her upright. He was tall, she realized as his lips continued to dance with hers. His tongue tried to open her lips, but hers were clamped shut!
    “Open…your damn…lips, Sam,” he said, still kissing her. “You’re kissing me like an old lady!”
    She felt awkward; she realized and opened her eyes to glance over his shoulder. People were still watching. She better make it good! She opened her lips slightly and his tongue darted in and he deepened the kiss. His arms pulled her against him and she couldn’t believe how sure he was of himself. And he wasn’t half bad at kissing either!
    “You’re thinking too much,” he said, and abruptly pulled his head away, but still kept his gaze locked on hers.
    His eyes were doughy looking, soft and sweet, but lurking beneath lay something else she had never seen in Graham’s eyes. “I need a drink,” she said, sliding her lips over one another. “I don’t usually kiss in public,” she lied.
    “Yeah…well, I do. So you better get used to it,” he said and punched the elevator button again.
    “Graham…this is only going to happen once,” she said straightening.
    He smiled. “If you only knew how many times I’ve heard that.”
    What did that mean? she wondered, but shook the thought away. Graham was going to be disappointed if he thought that this meant they were going to become something. This was only a one time deal. She was with Patrick…well, Patrick was on hold at the moment, but they’d be back on track again. They always were. “Well, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but it’s only happening once. And that’s a promise…”
    He rested a hand on her back and guided her into the waiting elevator, but he didn’t say another word.

  3. margie stewart

    ‘Okay. I confess.’ Eli Bond’s hands came up in defence.
    Hands that once tenderly held her and⎯then his words registered, slamming into her. Words she didn’t want to hear. Her heart stuttered for two beats before a wash of icy adrenalin tore through her body, demanding she run, or pummel his chest.
    Sylvia had loved his hands, what they were capable of…but what hurt most was all those spine-tingling things he’d said about her. Just words. Didn’t she ever learn? Damn and blast him to Mars and back. No, a one-way ticket to Siberia was all he deserved.
    She had him on a hook and if nothing else, she needed to see him squirm. After all she’d paid for it. Dearly. ‘Confess what exactly?’
    He shifted in his seat and ran a finger around the inside of his collar. ‘I haven’t been quite up front with you.’
    ‘Quite?’ Sylvia wiped perspiration from her top lip, crossed her arms mentally tapping her foot, waiting.
    Here we go, creative confession coming up. Really, did she need to hear it? Sucking back threatening tears, she decided the satisfaction of getting in first was all she could salvage. ‘Seeing as we’re in confession mode, I have one of my own.’
    His surprised expression wasn’t enough to quell the ache in her chest so she reminded herself she didn’t get to own the number one detective agency in Britain by being soft or forgiving, even when it got personal.
    Sylvia moved from her high back chair, sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her legs as best she could in a pencil skirt, noting her Jimmy Choo stilettoes were now in direct line with his crotch.
    She swallowed. ‘Your cheating accomplice is one of my staff, on assignment. Whatever you were after, you’ve failed.’ She shot him a smug grin.
    Steely blue eyes boring into hers, he stood then leaned in, caging her by placing his hands flat on the desk either side of her thighs. ‘On the contrary. You and your staff have failed. I’m head of a new agency about to hit town. I needed to get the inside scoop on my rival. Any. Way. I. Could.’

  4. Elle 'the other woman' Marlow

    Pleasing Mr. Harely Quinn

    “He’s cheating on me,” Gina said as Fiona lit another cigarette. Fiona then ordered two more beers before turning to look at her.
    Who? Mr. Quinn? He’d never!”
    Gina slumped herself over the bar, then shrugged a shoulder. “With that trashy hillbilly girl.”
    “Elle? The one who wears all those thrift-store clothes and smells like dollar-store perfume?”
    Gina nodded then sat up. “Yeah. Her. He came home reeking of margaritas and had a salsa stain on his shirt. We all know what that means.”
    Fiona exhaled a plume of smoke, squinting her eyes with thought.
    “I think I saw Harley flirting with Heather and Crystal a while back, but he seems to love you. I wouldn’t’ worry.”
    “What should I do? I made plans with him for a Christmas date! Now he’s flirting with all these women asking for them to whisper hot stories into his ear. You should have seen all the women lining up. I bet I counted two hundred of them, from all over the world!”
    Fiona pushed her cigarette out on top of a dried out pretzel that someone forgot on the bar.
    “He is a bit finicky, isn’t he? Nobody knows what the man will want next. Just be patient, he’ll come around.”
    “What should I do about Elle?” Fiona threw her head back and laughed.
    “Don’t worry about her. She’ll pull out like she always does!”

    **all in good fun, folks.**

    • Fiona Marsden

      “Gina knows about you and Harley.” Fiona stabbed the air with a half smoked cigarette.
      Elle looked up from her taco and frowned. “Did someone tell her?”
      “She recognised that cheap perfume you always wear when you are on the spree. That and the home made salsa he wore home on his shirt.”
      “It’s good salsa.” She sounded defensive. But lipstick wasn’t as distinctive as Elle’s salsa recipe she got handed down from her momma.
      “The best. I’ll have another jar next time you make it.”
      “Gina should learn to look after her man so he don’t need to go to someone else for a good feed of salsa.”
      “That’s what every woman says when she is feeding someone else’s man.”

    • Heather Hopkins

      *You guys are hilarious! Here’s my contribution…*

      Crystal nudged Heather with a bony elbow. “Look at Elle down there, gloating over her salsa.”

      “Let her gloat,” Heather said, giving the bartender a nod. “Her salsa might be spicy, but the heat burns out fast. Besides, everyone knows that Mr. Quinn prefers something a little sweeter.”

      “Everyone except poor Gina, apparently.”

      Heather gave her friend a knowing look. “If that woman wants to keep his interest, she ought to take a cooking class. You can’t keep a man satisfied with smiles, alone.”

      “Well, I’ll be leaving Mr. Quinn to the rest of you.” Crystal slid off the barstool, rearranging her mini-skirt. “He’s too much trouble, if you ask me. Good for a bit of fun, but definitely not the long-term type.”

      “Some men are worth a little effort, Crystal. In fact, I’m taking him a plate of my special occasion cookies later tonight.”

      Crystal grinned. “I’ll just bet you are!”

      A cloud of cigarette smoke preceded a boisterous greeting that could only be coming from one woman. The pair of friends turned to face Fiona, wondering what had brought her round to their side of the bar.

      “Consider yourself a baker, do you?” Fiona waved her hand around, hot ash flying every which way. “Not that I was eavesdropping or anything.”

      “Maybe,” Heather replied. “What’s it to you?”

      “Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Fiona said evenly. “I just wondered if you’d do a gal a favor and make a few extra. Don’t get me wrong, Elle makes a mean salsa, but it can be a bit much sometimes.”

      The two friends looked at each other and burst out laughing.

      “Burns out fast,” Heather snorted.

      Giggling, “The heat never lasts.”

      “What’s so funny?” Fiona huffed.

      “Inside joke,” Crystal said with a grin. “Don’t worry about it.”

      “If you say so,” Fi answered. “So how about it?”

      “No problem, Fi.” Heather tossed a twenty on the bar and gathered up her purse. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some baking to do.”

    • Carol Opalinski

      okay, here’s my portion!

      Fiona came from the back room with a case of long necks, set them on the bar and took a drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out. “Hey, yo! Where’s everybody going?”

      Heather turned back before heading out the door. “Carol just came in and gave us the news! The end unit next to hers is finally rented.”

      Fiona lit another cigarette. “So?”

      “So del Boca Vista Retirement Community is getting another man! A single, unattached honest-to-goodness man. And they say he’s got all his own teeth.”

      Gina nodded and laughed. “Crystal says he can drive after dark, too!”

      “I heard he’s a former Green Beret. Doesn’t use a walker or a can or nothing. See ya, Harley!” Elle threw over her shoulder as she followed the others.

      The door slammed as the women left the bar.

      Fiona took a bottle from the case and set it down in front of Harley. “Well, old man, looks like it’s just you and me now.”

      Harley sighed and took a sip of his beer. “Do you cook, Fi?”

      Fiona shook her head. “Not a lick.”

    • Brynn

      Fabulous exchange, ladies. I love Carol’s twist in the end – it’s fun to re-read it with that in mind. Makes Crystal’s miniskirt especially hilarious.

  5. Rebecca Laurence

    Rachel couldn’t believe what she was seeing. She thought a nice stroll in the park after a long and stressful day at the office would help her clear her mind, but now she is even more stressed than before. There are two figures standing before her in the middle of the bridge that crosses the small lagoon in the park. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem as there was plenty of room to pass by. It was the way he was standing that struck an arrow through her heart.
    “Maybe it’s not him?” she thought to herself. No, it was definitely her boyfriend, Warwick. They have only been seeing each other for a few months but she would know that tall slim figure dressed in a classic blazer over dark denim jeans anywhere. She recognized his thick dark hair with slight flecks of grey. She has run her fingers through his hair a thousand times before, as they lay together after making love. It was the tall blonde he was with that she didn’t recognize. But then the way her face was buried in his chest it would be hard to recognize anyone. He was holding her around her waist in a tender embrace.
    Rachel just stood there unable to look away. It was like time had slowed down so that she could analyse every detail. So that she couldn’t jump to any conclusions about what was happening. Warwick was definitely embracing this woman tenderly, stroking her back as he held her tightly. Placing gentle tender kisses on the top of her forehead, the way a mother gently soothes her hurt child. She looked like she could be half his age. Rachel thought that she was pretty good looking for a woman of 40. Okay she wasn’t tall like Warwick, but she was slender and took care of her body. She worked out at least 3 times a week at the gym to keep things where they should be. The grey hair was starting to poke through but regular visits to the hairdresser takes care of that problem.
    Rachel could feel the rage start to build. What should she do? Interrupt them by walking over to them and slapping his face. She could push both of them over the side of the bridge rails into the water. Both of these seemed like an excellent idea. Rachel quickly strolled towards them. She could feel her heart pounding against her chest. Would he turn around and see her before she had a chance to reach them? She couldn’t take her eyes off them as she approached them, heels clicking on the sidewalk. They seemed to be totally engrossed in each other as the sound of her footsteps didn’t break the bond between them. The heat was starting to overflow up over Rachels face and see could feel her cheeks starting to burn. When she was about 5 feet away she called his name.
    “Warwick?” She questioned, just in case she had got it wrong. He spun around instantly recognizing Rachels voice. The stunned and embarrassed look on his face confirmed to Rachel that she had just caught him out.
    It’s not what you think Rachel”
    “That’s what they all say” Rachel replied as her hands lifted from her side. Before she could think, she lunged with her out stretched hands hitting Warwick square in the chest, knocking him backwards. Rachel heard a squeal from the other woman as Warwick hit the rail of the bridge hard. She watched with a slight smile as she saw his feet lifting off the ground and flying over the side. Turning she looked at the strange woman now leaning over the rail calling after him. “You can have him now.” Rachel calmly stated. “I heard he’s all washed up anyway.”

  6. Gina Hagedorn

    Madison stared at the cursor blinking on the screen, not looking up when the door to her office burst open. The only outward sign of acknowledgement was the slight hesitation of her fingers on the keyboard.

    “What was that?” Brad bellowed.

    Madison stifled the urge to throw the potted plant just within her reach at him. “Rats are dirty. I thought a bath was warranted.”

    “Ha ha. More like a drowning.” He slicked his wet hair back with both hands. “Anyway, it wasn’t what it looked like…”

    This time, she deliberately moved her gaze from the computer to his soaked appearance. “No, I’m sure tongue-wrestling with your secretary, right under my window, is appropriate behavior for the man I’m supposed to be marrying next week. And my watering pail just slipped from my fingers, too.”

    “Madison, it meant nothing. I guess I just panicked at the idea of taking the plunge. But you know I love you…”

    “I know love shouldn’t make me want to drown you or throw a blunt object at you. I know I don’t want this – not with you – not anymore. It’s over.”

    “Maddie, you can’t mean that. Everything’s set – the church, the invitations, the whole white wedding. You can’t back out now.”

    “I already have. And I’ve made other plans.” She returned her attention to the screen, effectively dismissing him.

    “Other plans? What could be more important than your wedding day?”

    “I’ve got a real wedding to get to.” She began to type, her fingers only slightly trembling as she summoned the courage to change the course of her life. YES, I’M FREE. LOOKING FORWARD TO THE SEATTLE AFFAIR. “And I wouldn’t miss that one for the world.”

  7. Karen Macleod

    What was it her best friend Sarah had said?
    “There has got to be something wrong with him Kat, unmarried at forty- clearly something up with him or he would have been snapped up by someone”
    Well Sarah had been wrong, he was divine. Attentive, caring, fun and one hell of a lover. Perfect. Or so she thought till that mystery picture message had come through on her phone. That picture of him with another woman.

    “So?” She demanded, hand on her slender hip.
    “Look Kat, I meant to tell you about her sooner, but I couldn’t, I didn’t want to hurt you, as time went on I just couldn’t bring myself to tell you.”
    “So you cheated on me? Carried on behind my back? You pitiful coward” she said, her voice heavy with disdain.
    “Who is she? That woman?” Kat demanded.

    There was a moment of silence, so quiet she could hear the gentle hum of the fridge in the kitchen and the song of the birds on the telegraph wire.

    “She is my wife”

    At that moment the bottom fell out of Kat’s world. She felt her heart wither in her chest like an autumn leaf on a lonely tree. Married. Her friend was right after all… All the good ones were married by forty. The bad ones too it seemed.

    “Get out!” She said in an even, deadly voice.
    “But Kat..”
    “Get out, get out, get out! I thought we had something real but you have reduced us to a cliché. The wealthy, married, older man and his 24 year old mistress. I am your midlife crisis!!!!”
    “It’s not like that, my wife, she doesn’t understand me” he implored.

    It was then Kat started laughing, a dangerous laugh, a bitter despairing one.
    “Stop talking, you are making it worse, it’s like some awful soap opera!
    I preferred it when I thought you had just cheated on me but now I find you weren’t even mine in the first place, now all this is just some hackneyed, tawdry affair! Go back to your wife” she said coldly, the morbid laughter deserting her as suddenly as it had come on.

    With a rueful shake of his head he left. She heard the door of her flat banging behind him leaving her alone with the sound of the gentle humming of the fridge, the bird song from the telegraph wire and the screaming pain of her battered heart…

  8. Fiona Marsden

    The corset was too tight. She couldn’t breathe. Cecily pressed her fingertips to the bare flesh above the trim of her décolleté. Her heart beat steadily, which seemed quite peculiar in the circumstances. She felt a little peculiar. Light headed. As if she might swoon.
    Forcing another breath, she ventured another look through the French doors to the dimly lit gardens. There was no mistaking what she had seen. Ferdy Leighton, her fiancé to be, embracing her cousin Letitia. Beautiful, elegant Letitia of the natural gold ringlets under the powder, sapphire blue eyes and a figure not at all reliant on expensive corsetry to push out her bosom and give her that slender waist above the paniers. Well, perhaps the waist needed a little assistance. Certainly Ferdy seemed to enjoy putting his arm around that slender portion of her cousin’s anatomy.
    She turned from the window, pressing her hand to her own waist. If she swooned, everyone would know she’d finally found out. At least the sly whispers from her supposed friends were now explained.
    “Breath slowly.” The voice came from the door to the anteroom.
    Now her heart did skip a little. “Lord Loughbridge.” She dipped her head as she curtseyed. His tall figure commanded the room and she quailed a little at his severe expression.
    “You are soon to be my sister-in-law, there is no need to be quite so formal, surely?”
    She darted a glance outside and his gaze followed hers.
    “Or perhaps not?” His long fingers toyed with his quizzing glass.
    “I don’t think I could, my lord. Although I daresay it will be most uncomfortable. And rather humiliating.”
    “Because she is a peacock and you are a sparrow?”
    She bit her lip at his apt comparison. “You see my problem, sir.”
    He chuckled and she bridled at him.
    “No, no, little sparrow. Do not fluff your feathers. I’m rather partial to little brown sparrows. I find them…most estimable.”
    “My parents are preparing to make the announcement tonight. I must go to them. Tell them…”
    “Too late, little one, they are on their way here.”
    “What shall I do? I cannot go through with it.”
    He moved with assured grace across the room so she had to look up at him, he stood so close. “Do you trust me, Cecily?”
    “I…would like to.”
    He smiled and she was reminded why so many women pursued him. Why her own heart betrayed her more than once in his presence.
    His arms scooped her against him and his lips pressed against her mouth, seeking, demanding. What would her parents think of her in the embrace of such an accomplished rake? With a small surge of triumph she considered the pitying looks of the other young women changing to envy. A gasp of shocked outrage came from the door.
    She hardly cared. He really was quite delicious. Reaching up, she wrapped her arms around his neck. It was time to be thoroughly, and most enjoyably, ruined.

  9. Jacqueline Burrows

    I’m sorry if this is too long!!

    Leah had set her heart on dancing, but only with Harrison. The garden party was in full swing, the gardens reverberated to the sounds of laughter, and the clinking of glasses as the champagne went down nicely in the hot summer sun.

    Then she saw them.

    Harrison and Monique Devereux were dancing together. Oblivious to their surroundings she pressed up against him with their faces touching. Leah felt a shock of pain, and jealousy, like a knife, stabbed at her insides.

    She picked up her handbag and started walking. When she reached the front of the house, she ran. She kept running down the endlessly long drive, cursing her new expensive designer shoes with the heels that she thought made her look sexy. She didn’t look sexy now, stumbling about on the gravel, blisters forming in all kinds of places, tears coursing down her hot cheeks, make-up running with her tears.

    She reached the road and ran in the direction of the small country train station. She heard the engine roar of a sports car and knew it was Harrison’s Alfa Romeo.

    The car drew up beside her and Harrison shouted at her from the driver’s seat. ‘Get in.’

    ‘No.’

    ‘Get in, I can’t stop here.’

    ‘Good.’

    The road was a narrow country lane with only enough space for one car. There was a passing place up ahead and Leah suspected that Harrison would try to head her off. She was exhausted and her feet were agony. Her pace had dropped to a fast walk.

    ‘Leah, don’t be ridiculous. Talk to me. Get in the bloody car!’

    Leah kept walking, her head held high and her feet on fire. She felt the blast as the car shot ahead and screeched to a halt ahead of her. Harrison got out of the car and stood in the middle of the road with his arms down at his sides, his hands clenched into fists.

    Leah walked slowly towards him and stopped.

    It all made sense now. He’d never stopped loving the older woman. With all the others it was just sex, including herself. But with Monique Devereux it was the real thing.

    ‘Leah, please say something.’

    ‘Congratulations? I hope you’ll both be very happy?’ Leah hated the bitter jealousy in her voice.

    ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ Harrison’s face was hard and tense, his eyes desperate.

    ‘You and that woman. Will you marry her?’

    ‘If you mean Monique, I had no idea she was going to be here today.’

    ‘You must have invited her. Don’t lie to me, Harrison.’

    ‘I didn’t invite her. Seeing her was just as much a shock to me. You have to believe me.’

    ‘I don’t believe you. In fact I will never believe anything you say from now on.’

    ‘Leah…’

    ‘It’s too much of a coincidence that she just turns up out of the blue. Don’t you think?’ Leah’s anger was rising in direct proportion to the pain in her feet.

    ‘You’re wrong. I wish I could make you see how wrong.’

    ‘I don’t want anything more to do with you.’

    ‘You work for me, you don’t have a choice about that.’

    Leah yelled with all the pent-up frustration and agony in her soul. ‘I don’t work for you! And I will never work for that woman even if you did marry her.’

    ‘I am not going to marry her!’ Harrison yelled back and the power of his voice sent a blackbird flying out of the hedgerow, squawking its warning call raucously. ‘I have no intention of marrying anyone, ever.’

    ‘No, you’re just married to the business, no time for anything else. Except a few stolen moments of just sex. No time for people or relationships, or fun.’

    Harrison threw back his head and laughed, a hollow humourless sound. ‘Well, welcome to my world, Leah. That’s the nature of being a true executive, hard work, long hours and little time for anything else.’

    Leah knew he was right but was too distraught to put together a clever come back or logical argument. She had to get away before she broke down.

    ‘I’ll take you home. Get in the car.’ He was still being forceful and domineering. Well, no more.

    ‘No. Leave me alone.’ She started walking again, or attempted to as the pain in her feet brought her up short with a sharp cry.

    ‘Leah, your poor feet, they’re bleeding. You can’t even walk. Please, let me take you home.’

    ‘Didn’t you hear what I said? I would rather walk across hot coals to get home, than go with you.’

    ‘You don’t mean that…’

    Leah kicked off her shoes, picked them up and started walking in bare feet down the road. She didn’t look back but sensed that he was watching her. Ten minutes later, as she rounded a bend, she could see the train station at last. She hurried across the car park, ignoring Harrison who leant against his car waiting for her.

    As she walked to the ticket desk and bought her ticket, Harrison was behind her entreating and cajoling her to change her mind and let him take her home. She ignored him and marched onto the platform. Harrison followed her and stood next to her.

    ‘Are you going to ignore me at work, too?’

    ‘No, Harrison, I’m a professional.

    He was gazing at her and she saw his face soften. She couldn’t look him in the eye. She would never stop wanting him, loving him. He had hurt her deeply but she would always love him. That was her fate.

    Then the train came rumbling into the station and Leah turned away from him.

    ‘Leah, please talk to me. I know you’re angry but we can’t leave things like this. I can explain if you’ll let me.’

    ‘Goodbye, Harrison.’

    Leah got on the train without a backward glance and settled herself in a seat on the far side. Just as it started to pull away from the station, she sneaked a look to see if he was still there.

    Harrison hadn’t moved. He was motionless, staring intently into the train and the look on his face contained all the misery and regret that Leah carried in her heart.

  10. Charlotte

    “You can’t sack me,” Heroine bit her lip in an effort to suppress the emotions threatening to spill out.

    “I’m not sacking you,” frowned Hero. “I’m just advising you that we won’t be renewing your contract next year.”

    “That’s just so….wrong,” she was proud of her self restraint. “To discover your ex-boyfriend is a…a lying, cheating, himbo is humiliating enough. But to then lose your job over it…”

    “Indeed. But you must see that in a straight choice between the two of you, he has the full backing of the board. He’s the presenter. The face of Era Excavators.”

    “And let’s be honest, who wants to be a presenter? Whilst I’m just an osteoarcheologist, and we’re ten a penny.”

    The uncharacteristically sarcastic retort tripped of her tongue before she could clamp her mouth shut. It was galling that she it was so hard to control her emotions in front of *him*, when she’d walked in on her cheating now-ex-boyfriend and felt nothing. Well, nothing except relief that she finally had the excuse she needed to be free of him.

    And the vague recollection when she’d walked in on them, that his over-tanned backside had matched the orange wood of the ornately carved four-poster bed so perfectly.

    She’d been flattered that the chase had led him to join her at DIG Productions. But when the flattery had worn off, she couldn’t shake the fear of what he’d do if she ended things.

    Heroine stifled a nervous, almost hysterical, giggle. This was turning out to be one nightmare of a day. When – after all the clichéd This-isn’t-what-it-looks-likes, I-can-explains, and it-didn’t-mean-anythings – he’d implored her to give him another chance, she’d told him she’d sooner beat herself over the head repeatedly with an articulated femoral joint. And that was when he’d warned her. Told her that she’d have to go running back to him, that he’d make sure she had no other choice.

    She hadn’t believed him.

    She should have. The guy had clearly given the producers an ultimatum. Get rid of her, or he wouldn’t return to the show. Well, if they thought she was that easy to fob off, they could think again.

    She bit her lip again. It really galled that Hero seemed so willing to go along with it. Granted, Mr Steel Backbone had a formidable reputation within the industry but he’d always seemed fair and just to Heroine. Just proved how little she really understood men. Take the way she’d eagerly read too much into that moment last Christmas. No, she was right to focus on her career from now on. It was the one thing she could always fathom.

    * * *

    Hero dragged his eyes from those white teeth worrying at the soft, pink flesh of her lips. The delectably plump mouth. The mouth he had, in a moment of weakness, claimed as his own last year when he’d found himself alone with her, not-quite-under a sprig of mistletoe.

    It had taken every ounce of willpower never to repeat the moment. He wasn’t in the habit of going after other bloke’s girlfriends, even if the bloke *was* a muppet. And it wasn’t as if he didn’t have more than enough offers of his own – but there had been something different from Heroine from the moment he’d first met her.

    Intelligent, driven and beautiful, she was the best osteoarcheologist he’d ever worked with. A natural in front of the camera with her own ever-growing fan base amongst the viewers she was an asset that Era Excavators would be foolish to lose in favour of her arrogant, inane, cretinous ex.

    Hero had long wondered what she saw in that pompous buffoon. Now, despite her humiliation, she’d come here to confront him. To look him in the eye and stand up for herself. That took guts, she was more tenacious than he’d realised. He liked that.

    Sure he could go out on a limb for Heroine. He could make the producers listen to him – he always did. But he’d learned his lesson about cleaning up other people’s messes for them. Just as he could have got rid of that muppet a long time ago if he’d wanted. But working with idiots was run of the mill in this industry and Hero prided himself on making any team work.

    If he was going to get rid of her ex, then he was going to make darned sure she wouldn’t change her mind and come back at him for it later.

    As if sensing his hesitation, Heroine stood abruptly, her finger jabbing the glass of his desk vigorously.
    “I love my work, I love this work, and I love our team. So if you think you can get rid of me without a fight then you’d better think again.”

    “Then you’d better make sure you bring your best game,” he warned, trying not to smile at her appealingly feisty expression.

    This was going to be one fight he would enjoy.

  11. M. Lee Scott

    “Think what your doin’, Cass. What you’d be giving up.”

    Cass watched the burly man carry out another box to the truck parked at the curb. “You know what I’m thinking, Brad? I’m thinking you’re the real loser here. And I’m done thinking I could be the one for you. Seems even my best wasn’t good enough.”

    More boxes were being carried out. As the last box went out the door, Brad was still trying to convince Cass to forgive him. “Cass, we can’t let this one screw-up define our relationship. It was more than that, and you know it. I love you.”

    Turning toward Brad, Cass made sure he was looking at her. “You’re the only screw-up I see Brad. It’s over, now get out.”

    Brad looked around the almost-empty apartment. “Did you save some boxes for me?”

    Cass smiled. “You don’t need any boxes, Brad. Your stuff just left on the Goodwill truck.”

  12. Carol Opalinski

    “C’mon, Charlotte, she didn’t mean anything. Not really. You know you’re number one.”

    Charlotte rolled her eyes. “Have you considered maybe I don’t want to be in a relationship where I have to take a number?”

    Donald’s hand gripped her arm. “Let’s go somewhere private where we can discuss this rationally.”

    “There is no way you can possibly explain yourself. We’re through and nothing you say will change my mind.” Charlotte looked to the bartender for help, but he was too swamped to notice. She would have to save herself. “And take your hand off me.”

    “Now you’re just being a bi—”

    “Sounds to me like the lady is ‘disinclined to acquiesce to your request’, mate. Maybe you should leave.” Her rescuer, tall with dark hair and chiseled cheeks, clamped a hand on Donald’s shoulder.

    Charlotte sputtered and choked on her pinot noir. Did he just quote Pirates of the Caribbean?

    Donald tried unsuccessfully to throw off the other man’s hand. “How is this any of your business, pal.”

    “I’m making it my business.” With his free hand, the man pulled aside his dark suit jacket to reveal a gold shield and a gun.

    Donald’s eyes widened. He muttered something about “not worth his trouble” and stomped off.

    “Friend of yours?” To avoid a passing couple, the stranger laid a hand on the bar and leaned closer, giving Charlotte a whiff of soap and spicy cologne.

    “My cheating ex.”

    “We men are wretched things.” Charlotte’s rescuer grinned lopsidedly.

    Sexy, gorgeous and he knew Homer. The only Homer Donald could quote was a yellow cartoon character’s catch-phrase.

    The stranger cleared his throat. “Is it safe to sit or should I shove off, too? I don’t fancy wearing pinot noir on my new suit.”

    Charlotte wouldn’t have thought quoting movies and ancient poets so sexy. Or was it that accent? What other talents did he have? Realizing she’d been daydreaming, she flushed and pointed to the empty stool. “Be my guest. Let me buy you a drink.”

    “Only if you’ll let me buy you dinner.” He held out his hand. “I’m Luke, by the way.”

    “Charlotte.” He had a callus on his thumb and the shiver racing through her had nothing to do with the temperature.

    He settled on the seat. “About that dinner…or is it too soon after…”

    “Donald? No, I’m good.”

    “Yes, you are.” His polished steel-gray eyes darkened, “So, you’ll let me buy you dinner?”

    “Sure, it’s not every day I find a man who uses ‘fancy’ as a verb, can quote Homer as well as Pirates of the Caribbean and carries a Glock.”

    He wiggled his eyebrows and sent her a smile that had her girly parts singing. “And those aren’t even my best talents.”

  13. Harriet Hale

    Ezra trotted down the front steps of his bungalow. Overhead, the wind whispered through the palm trees. The fronds danced and whirled, casting wildly patterned shadows on the sand and other buildings. Gulls reeled, their cries competing with the crashing surf and the tropical music from the pool area. The mid-day sun warmed all of his exposed skin, from the small of his back to the part in his hair, as he trudged through the loose sand and made his way to the bar.

    “Water, please.”

    “Water?” The bartender peered over her sunglasses, making him feel even more out of place.

    It was weird, being here instead of his office, practically undressed in front of strangers. Then he sipped his water and looked around. Bikinis, speedos, bathing suits cut high on the thigh or low in the back, or all the way to the wearer’s belly-button. He was more dressed that most. And he had a better physique than that guy, or that one, or …

    There she was again – the redhead from this morning, the woman he’d shared the pool with while everyone else had been sleeping it off. They’d done their laps in silence, and it had taken him a few turns to realize he was racing her – pushing her, letting her push him. When she’d left, she’d smiled over her shoulder and waved goodbye.

    Now she was reclined in a chaise lounge, under a tree in the shade, and he could get a good look at her. Long legs, darker skin than most redheads, tank suit – blue shorts and a green top. She wasn’t a petite porcelain doll, but she was fit. And that hair … auburn and mahogany, with curls escaping from the knot she’d made at her crown.

    He hadn’t realized he was walking toward her until he was close enough to see her face. Sunglasses hid her eyes, but not her high cheekbones and delicate features, and not the thoughtful angle of her mouth as she tapped a finger on her phone, which lay face down on the table beside her. Her nails were short and free of polish.

    He’d like to have those nails on his skin, to unwind that hair and wrap it around his hand, to see if her skin was a soft as it had looked this morning when it was wet from the pool. Ezra shook his thoughts into order and blamed the fantasies on the atmosphere. Dear God, he’d never even heard the woman speak.

    “Hello?” he said.

    She looked up, a frown knotting her brows. This wasn’t a good start.

    “From the pool this morning?” he explained, turning so she could see his back. It was probably more recognizable than his face.

    “Right. Hello.”

    She was American, from the south somewhere. And her soft, deep drawl rekindled his every fantasy.

    “May I?” he motioned to the chair next to her.

    “Sure,” she said with a distracted wave as she went back to staring at her phone. “Suit yourself.”

    Who brought their phone to the pool? “Expecting a call?”

    She sat for so long that he thought she wasn’t going to answer. Finally … “Not anymore.”

    Now it was his turn to be quiet and wait.

    “I should’ve known,” she muttered, as if talking to herself. “Who turns down a week in the Caribbean?”

    Ezra cleared his throat. “Who indeed?”

    “Apparently,” she said, still looking at the phone, “my boyf – ex-boyfriend and the … woman who just answered his phone.”

    “He threw you over?”

    “Yep.”

    “Is he daft?”

    That drew her attention, and she turned to him with the same wicked grin she’d given him this morning. “I have always wondered if his mama dropped him on his head.”

    “Can I buy you a drink?” Ezra asked, lifting his water bottle.

    Now she lowered her sunglasses and peered at him. Green eyes hovered between disbelief and laughter. “Seriously? You’re hitting on me now?”

    “Hitting on you involves drinks with umbrellas, I think.”

    “Umbrellas are for sissies.”

    He liked this woman. Liked her a lot. He offered his hand. “Ezra Larkin.”

    Her skin was soft, and her bones were small, but her grip was strong. “Rae Davenport.”

  14. Maggie Jones

    “Tell me how you even could?”
    She’d meant not to cry. Meant her words to be a scream, a cry, a shout. Just not this – this hoarse, pathetic whimper.
    It wasn’t how she felt. Inside, there was nothing but nuclear rage.
    “How could I what?”
    He was looking at her like what-the-heck-was-she-talking-about. But he could see her distress. He was wary of that, confused. He even managed to pretend concern.
    “Just be honest, okay. Just tell me who she is, and why we weren’t ok, and when, and where, and how long? Okay. Because I need to know. I have to know.”
    He reared back like her fierce torrent of words had attacked him physically.
    “You think there’s someone else?”
    God, he was such an accomplished liar. And she’d never even guessed after ten years of knowing him.
    She shook her head and dug her fingers into her palms.
    “No, I know there is.”
    “I see.”
    Not yes and I’m sorry. Not even denial.
    How could she have been so wrong about him? How could she have believed that high school sweetheart nonsense or been so proud of his successes or thought he meant his embarrassing, wonderful proposal on the pitch at the Superbowl?
    And how dare he stand there, muscles knotting in his jaw, a flush of anger on his face? He had no right. None at all now in the yawning void that stretched between them.
    He started walking. Not fast. Not away from her, but like she’d walk alongside him.
    “Not here,” he said.
    “Not outside your precious headquarters. Why? Is she in there?”
    He half-stopped, half-turned. “Not here.”
    They walked in silence, along the plaza, past the fountain his grandfather had built, down the steps towards the park. But the route was a mistake. He’d bought her a hot dog at the stand there, the day he’d told her he loved her…
    Her legs went, just buckled, and she gripped the railing at the park entrance or she’d have fallen, but she was still going to throw up, could feel her throat close.
    He didn’t see. He’d stopped beside that homeless man again. Like he did every time. As if there was something more important than his betrayal. Than her.
    He undid the restrictive buttons of his suit and squatted beside the man bedded down on matted blankets in the wind-free niche in the wall.
    “Hey, how’s it going?”
    You never even saw the money pass between them. She’d noticed that before. She’d not even known until that time she’d looked back and seen the notes being counted.
    “Not so bad.”
    “Keeping warm?”
    “I stayed in the new shelter last night. That’s some good thing you did, man.”
    “Glad you like it. Give me some feedback, ok. I’d like to know what everyone really thinks.”
    Then he shook hands with the guy, stood and walked on into the park.
    Slowly, like she’d walk beside him. The way she always did.

    • Harriet Hale

      Maggie – you’ve given us a heroine full of insecurities and a hero who has more going on than what’s on the page, but you’ve still hinted that it’s there and that we’ll find out soon. I’d like to be able to read what he tells her.

    • Maggie Jones

      Thanks so much, Harriet! These challenges are just a great free-writing exercise – it’s actually helping with the other stuff. Amazing what you can do in a short time when you’re not hung up on GMC!!

    • Maggie Jones

      Diana, so sorry I didn’t see this! GMC – goal, motivation, conflict. I’ve been trying to figure out what this means for months! So: what does he or she want (her external visible goal – e.g. rescue the kidnapped girl – that will drive the book and internal goal – to resolve various issues from childhood), motivation: what happened in childhood…that led to the mask she wears now…and that she’ll do anything to avoid repeating…and that has made her the way she is, and conflict (the real driver in books/films) – why is it impossible to get what she wants. Now you’ll never watch a movie the same way again lol.

    • Vicki Lane

      So I’m going to start with this is so not fair!!! I really want to read more. I want to know why she is still following him, what she actually saw, and what he is really all about. So much here and so much more that isn’t even on the page, yet my mind is full of “what if it’s this or what if it’s that”. Great job!!!

    • Maggie Jones

      Vicki, what lovely things to say! A real booster! I must say it went TOTALLY against the grain to think about a cheat – how to redeem him, but then you start getting into delicious possibilities and before you know it you’re hooked! These Sold editors are sneakily brilliant!

    • Sold Editors

      Love the heroine’s emotion, and also the sense that there’s clearly more to the hero than she realises. She is very quick to accuse him, however, especially after so many years together – would be great to know a little more about where these insecurities come from! But would love to know what happens next!

  15. margie

    He’s so calm while she’s going ballistic inside. And then the end- so poignant. Great writing, Maggie-need to read more of this story, please!

  16. Chris Buono

    Nice Challenge, Sold Editors! Here’s my cheating boyfriend tale with a slight twist. See what you think.

    The Cheater’s Lesson 101

    “I don’t understand you, Mitch,” Karen huffed. “After all we’ve been through together. How could you do this?”

    Mitch shrugged boyishly. “It just happened.”

    “How does it ‘just happen’?” Karen asked standing and stepping away from her desk. “There’s a lead up to cheating, isn’t there? Something like that just doesn’t happen! What is the matter with you?”

    Mitch hurried after her, pleading, “Would you just calm down. Let’s talk about it.”

    “Okay, let’s,” she said turning suddenly to face him.

    His six-foot, stolid frame collided lightly with her petite, curvy body.

    She snarled up at him.

    He took a step back and adjusted the knot in his tie for no reason.

    Pointing at her desk, shaking her finger Karen said, “I’ve been so good to you and that…that is how you treat me?”

    “I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just…how else was I supposed to get your attention?”

    Karen leered at him. “Excuse me?”

    “I didn’t like doing what I did,” he said turning and stepping toward her desk. “But you made me do it.”

    Standing tall, Karen crossed her arms and asked Indignantly, “I did what?”

    Glancing at her desk’s top, Mitch continued, “You’re always calling on someone else. Looking to them for answers.” Then his eyes locked on hers. “You think that I want to be reprimanded by someone I care about?”

    Arms still crossed, Karen moved closer to him with measured steps while saying, “How could you care about me when you don’t even care about yourself?”

    “Cheating isn’t a reflection on me,” Mitch argued. “It just shows how I feel about you and what I’d do to kick our relationship up a notch.”

    A smile crept to Karen’s tender face, “Really?”

    Rubbing his square chin, Mitch said, “Who else but a guy infatuated with his continuing education teacher would cheat on her art test?

    “So you did it to…”

    “…get you even closer to me, why else?”

    “No begging for a retest?” she giggled.

    “That, too, of course…Teach.”

    Their eyes twinkled at each other.

    “After a private tutor lesson at my place,” said Karen. “Okay?”

    “That’s what I was hoping,” replied Mitch.

  17. Vicki Lane

    First – Happy Mothers Day to all of the mom’s of human children and fur babies!

    This is perhaps a bit to long, but I couldn’t find a place to stop it.

    Reagan Wallace covered her mouth, a lone tear trailed down her cheek. She was going to be sick. She was going to be sick and then she was might just have to kill his sorry backside.

    Brad hadn’t even seen her at the light as she started to cross the street. No, he’d been too busy probing the tonsils of the bleached blonde sitting next to him in his red Thunderbird.

    She closed her eyes for a brief moment and then franticly looked around her. Rosie’s Bar and Grill was a block away. There she’d find a bathroom and a reprieve from the hustle of the Christmas shoppers, while giving her time to figure out her next move.

    ###

    The damp paper towels felt good against the heat flooding her face. Why had she thought Brad would be any different? I love you Reagan, you’re so beautiful Reagan, we could be together forever Reagan. She’d fallen for every word. And spilled secrets she should have kept to herself. That wouldn’t bode well for her with the agency. She was already on thin ice with her boss.

    Pulling her head up she looked into the mirror over the sink and winced. She was going to need more than a damp paper towel to fix the mess she was in. A mess that might possibly put a hit out her life and would without a doubt put one on Brad’s. Not that she cared anymore.

    White hot rage pumped through her veins as she grabbed the paper towel dispenser and ripped it from the wall. The soap dispenser was next, followed by the mirror.

    Looking around the room, Reagan smirked. She’d pay Rosie for the damages, go home and get ready for her dinner date with Brad. One he wouldn’t ever forget.

    ###
    The black dress hugged her like a second skin with the back of the dress dipping to her waist. Black stiletto’s not only accentuated her long legs, but held a small blade sharp enough to do the job if needed.

    Reagan leaned over the balcony ledge and looked at the city below. People scurrying about their business, shopping for loved ones, their only care was getting the most for the best deal. In reality wasn’t that everyone’s wish.

    She sighed, she had two choices and she hated herself for wanting the second more than the first. “You’re fired,” Reagan muttered under her breath. “No, really fired as in burned no one will ever know you were here.”

    First choice wasn’t the end she wished for this Christmas. Okay, second choice, kidnap him. Plain and simple, kidnap, teach him where he went wrong and fake his death.

    Strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her back against rock hard abs.

    “You look amazing,” Brad said.

    Visions of the blonde played in front of her like a bad movie. Reagan turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him deeply and said, “You’re fired.”

    • Sold Editors

      What a woman – Brad’s picked the wrong person to cheat on, that’s for sure! This is a pacy, dramatic scene but we’d love to know a bit more about what kind of romantic hero would be strong enough to match Reagan!

    • Vicki Lane

      Reagan was hard to write. The first draft (yeah, I do drafts of these challenges. Please tell me most if not all of us do this.), she was pretty much broken and not sure what to do. Re-read it and though nope, this is not feisty. So, she went from a sad broken hearted woman to someone who has deep feelings and wants, but will push them aside it if means her job and life. Even if it did mean giving up on what she had always hoped for, someone she could trust. I sort of think that Brad is actually the hero and is the one that can match her, she just doesn’t know it yet. But when push comes to shove he will be the one.

  18. Calida Ally

    Gemma unlocked the door to Leon’s flat and let herself in. She was surprised at how calm she was feeling despite finding out her boyfriend of nearly three years was cheating on her with a work colleague.
    Gemma had been happily munching on a piece of toast when her best friend had turned up at her apartment earlier, looking pale and anxious. Carla, her friend, who worked at the same place as Leon, had snapped Leon and his bit on the side, in an intimate embrace.
    After seeing the photo, Gemma had felt anger and hurt surge through her whole body, which had then become replaced by an icy calm. She had instantly wanted to confront him and demand that he explain himself, but he was away on business for the weekend. She now understood what sort of a business trip he was on.
    How could he have done this to her? He had even hinted at them getting engaged! What a jerk! Gemma made her way into his bathroom and picked up his toothbrush.
    After dialing his number on her mobile, she began to scrub the toilet with the brush.
    “Leon!” she greeted with feigned brightness. “How’s the trip going?”
    “Great. Busy…”
    “You sound breathless, are you alright?” Gemma felt anger roll through her veins. She knew what or whom to be more exact, was causing him to sound breathless.
    “Yeah, I’m alright, just, you know, busy, busy, busy.” His voice sounded strained.
    “I do know.” She stated tightly.
    “What are you up to?” He asked, in an uninterested tone.
    “Cleaning. I’m trying to get rid of this nasty stain.” she muttered as she scrubbed the toilet viciously with the brush, nearly snapping the handle into two.
    “Great.” He said sounding preoccupied. “Listen Gemma, I have to go, I’ll see you when I get back.”
    “Sure.” She said into the mouthpiece and realised he’d already hung up. A stab of pain pierced into her. Nope. Just merely brushing the toilet with the toothbrush wasn’t going to ease the hurt she was feeling. After replacing the brush back into the holder, Gemma made her way into the bedroom and located a pair of scissors. Opening his wardrobe, she took out his ties, snipped them into pieces, followed by his shirts and trousers.
    As the anger slowly ebbed away, devastation crept over her. She loved him. She had believed every lie he had fed her. She had trusted him, wanted him with every fibre of her being and right now, he was with another woman. Hot stinging tears streamed down her face as she stared down at the pile of ragged clothes which lay at her feet. Her world felt as though it had come crashing down around her. She felt insecure, alone and broken.
    Once the tears slowly began to subside. Gemma gave herself a mental shake and tried to block the pain. What the heck was she doing, allowing a man to make her feel this way? She was strong. She would overcome this. This was just another hurdle which she would have to climb over and start again, afresh. Gemma angrily dashed at the tears. This was the last time a man was going to make her cry, she told herself firmly as she stepped over his clothes and left the flat, closing the door shut behind her.

  19. Yvette Martin

    Vickie was peaking through her window linds waiting for her man slut of a boyfriend, Geoffrey.

    Earlier that day after getting evidence that Geoffrey has been lying and that he has been cheating all along. She began gathering up his belongings and he placed them in six large garbage bags that are not sitting at her down waiting to be disposed of.

    Through the slats a beam of light became visible. Pulling into here driveway was that rat bastard,her soon to ex.

    “Well, it’s about damn time, game on!”

    Wrenching the door open before he could use his key, Vickie greeted her boyfriend.

    “Hey babe, welcome home.”

    “What’s up Vic.”

    “I asked you not to call me that,let me take your jacket, I know you had a long day at work and I want to take care of you.”

    Taking Geoffrey’s jacket out of his hands, Vickie tossed it on the sofa and pulled him for a kiss and a hug. As she kissed him on the lips she wondered who else these he used these lips on. Rubbing his back with one hand she used the other to wipe his taste from her lips.

    “There isn’t enough mouth wash in the world to get his taste out of my mouth, but I bet a shot of tequila would help.”

    “Hey babe, what’s up with all the bags?”

    “I did a little spring cleaning, it’s just some stuff that I needed to get rid of.”

    “Never mind that stuff. I’ve planned a night you will never forget, she purred.

    “Okay, what brought this on, you are ususally to tired to have sex on a weeknight.”

    “Nothing, I just wanted to do something special for my man.”

    “Relax have a seat and drink your beer, I going to turn on the shower just the way you like it.”

    “A man could get used to this.”

    “I bet.”

    “Did you say something?”

    “No.”

    After turning on the shower, Vickie came back in to the room. Giving herself a pep talk to keep herself in check before she slaps the taste out of his mouth.

    “Just a little bit longer, you got this.”

    “Stand up Geoffrey, let me undress you.”

    “Whoa stop!”

    “Vic, I can undress myself.”

    “Yeah, but it will be more fun, if I did it for you.”

    “But.”

    “No, buts its not like you’ve been cheating on me and you have marks from another woman on your body.”

    “No,I’m not that stupid, but the sooner I get my clothes off, the quicker we can get to down to business.”

    “Well, okay,if you’re sure you, then take as long as you need for because, some reason you are really sweaty when you come from work sometimes.”

    “I’ll make it quick.”

    “I will set the table and light a few candles, to it can be more cozy.”

    “You’re the best Vic.”

    Vickie dimmed the light, turned on her ipod and lit some of her lavender scented candles and placed them all around the house.

    “Now for phase two, is he serious,singing Marvin Gaye? The only sexual healing he’s going to get is from singing that song.”

    The sound of the shower being shut off startled Vickie out of her musings. She got her feet moving to proceed with her plan.

    “Geoffrey, did you get the things I laid out for you?”

    “Vic, yeah I did but I can’t seem to find some of my stuff.”

    “You probably just overlooked it since I rearranged things this afternoon.”

    “Thanks, babe you’re the best.”

    “The food sure be here by now, I’m going to jump in the shower and use that shower gel you bought me for my birthday.”

    “Will you go check, the door the food is all paid for all you have to do is bring it in from the front porch. I told them to leave it there.”

    “No problem.”

    Geoffrey strutted to the door like a man who knew he got his woman exactly where he wanted her. Vickie came up him and slammed the door.

    “Babe, Babe, the door closed. Vic, Vic, I can’t get in. Can you you hear me Vickie?

    “Go stay with that hootchie you’ve been sleeping with!”

    “I never cheated on you!”

    ” I followed you.”

    “Damn.”

    “At least let me get some clothes.”

    “Geoffrey, if you look closely your clothes are all ready out there with you, now if I were you I would leave before one of my neighbors calls the cops. Just so you know I’m snapping pics to post on my facebook page. The caption reads “This cheating dog got neutered.”

  20. Charlotte

    Congrats to everyone who posted – Fab & hilarious stuff up there. Please don’t think I’m being rude not commenting more but both babies have been being sick all week (awful Norovirus, bless them). Just had a moment to skim read these incredible scenes, but do wish I could sit down and read them properly! – Getting VERY well acquainted with the mop & bucket, however! 😛