mPatrick
03-18-2011, 02:48 PM
I've been working on this story for a bit. Fiction, mostly. Some of the details, like most writers, are obtained through actual events. "The names have been changed to protect the identity of the innocent [ha]."
Here it goes .....
Grabbing the hand towel draped over the edge of the sink, I wipe the sweat from my forehead. Finally, I finished cleaning the kitchen. What started as a "counters need a good scrubbing," led the the trim, then the splash wall, then the floors and everything else. That really did become an all day adventure. Now that the work is all done, it's time for some relaxation! I plop down on my sofa, snatch up the remote, and click on the TV. Flipping through the channels, I'm not the least bit shocked to find nothing on worth watching. Then again, it's only 3pm and there's never anything on till at least 5pm. I change the channel to a music station. Cranking up the volume, I lay back on the sofa and start drifting off.
I faintly hear, what sounds like, rapping and tapping coming from the front door. I dismiss it as something my mind fabricated as I continue fading away. I feel a slight shift of my body, like someone sat down on the edge of the sofa. Then I hear a soft voice calling my name. I'm not sure if someone is actually calling my name, or the beginning of what might be a very tantalizing dream. I can feel a hand lightly resting on my shoulder as I continue to hear my name being called. The hand on my shoulder starts shaking me -- gently at first -- slowly getting more violent. With each violent shake of my shoulder, the voice calling my name gets louder. Crap! It's an earth quake! I wake up with a start. But to my surprise, there's no earth quake. Instead, I have my neighbor sitting on my sofa. Little shorter than me, thin, beautiful wavy brown hair falling down to the middle of her back. Two small bundles of hair, she calls bangs, curving in just under her eyes.
"You scared the crap out of me! I thought we were having an earth quake."
"Nope, just you," she giggled. "I was trying to wake you but you wouldn't get up."
"Oh ... but, umm, how'd you get in?"
"Spare key ..." with a whole "duh" sound to it.
I had completely forgot that I gave her a spare key last year in case -- which I do frequently -- lock myself out.
"So what's so urgent that you had to wake me?"
"I didn't want to. You looked so peaceful sleeping." Creepy! "Anyway, I wanted to know if you still got that guys number who does massage."
"Oh, no. I'm sorry, hun. He stopped giving massages a while back."
"Oh," she said, in a very depressing tone.
"Why, what's wrong?"
"I think I [tworked] my back," [tworked]? Is that even a word? "and I was hoping he could give me a rub."
"Well let me see how bad it is. Maybe I can help. Sit right here," indicating the ottoman, "and lift up your shirt so I can see what I'm working with."
She straddles the ottoman, one leg on each side, and reaches above her head. She pulls her hair over one shoulder, then pulls her shirt up to her bra strap. I place my hands just above her waist, and I start to work my thumbs into her back. Beginning on each side of her spine, I work all the way up to her bra strap, then back down, farther out toward her sides. When I reach her waist, I do the same thing to her tail bone, after instructing her to lean forward. It's hard to do through pants, but I managed.
"I'm sorry, but I don't feel anything wrong. You're a little tight in your lower back but, other than that, I don't notice anything."
She pulls her shirt back down and tosses her hair over her shoulder, allowing it to fall naturally against the curvature of her back. Turning sideways toward me, she looks at me, then ltilts her head forward and diverts her eyes to the ground.
"If I was any good, I'd pull out my table and toss you on it right ...."
She cuts me off. Still hanging her head, she looks right at me. A small grin growing across her face.
"Would you? Really? I bet you are great at rubbing girl...."
We both turn a few shades red, her more than I.
"I mean, you know, giving massages."
"Okay, okay. Give me some time to stretch [my hands] and get the table out. Say ... 15 minutes?"
She jumps up from the ottoman. She stood before me in an awkward way before quickly leaning over and giving me a brief hug.
"15 minutes. Ima hold you to it!" then she sprints out through the front door.
I take in a deep breath. I hold it in for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. "What am getting myself into?"
Part 2 coming soon, if everyone likes Part 1.
Here it goes .....
Grabbing the hand towel draped over the edge of the sink, I wipe the sweat from my forehead. Finally, I finished cleaning the kitchen. What started as a "counters need a good scrubbing," led the the trim, then the splash wall, then the floors and everything else. That really did become an all day adventure. Now that the work is all done, it's time for some relaxation! I plop down on my sofa, snatch up the remote, and click on the TV. Flipping through the channels, I'm not the least bit shocked to find nothing on worth watching. Then again, it's only 3pm and there's never anything on till at least 5pm. I change the channel to a music station. Cranking up the volume, I lay back on the sofa and start drifting off.
I faintly hear, what sounds like, rapping and tapping coming from the front door. I dismiss it as something my mind fabricated as I continue fading away. I feel a slight shift of my body, like someone sat down on the edge of the sofa. Then I hear a soft voice calling my name. I'm not sure if someone is actually calling my name, or the beginning of what might be a very tantalizing dream. I can feel a hand lightly resting on my shoulder as I continue to hear my name being called. The hand on my shoulder starts shaking me -- gently at first -- slowly getting more violent. With each violent shake of my shoulder, the voice calling my name gets louder. Crap! It's an earth quake! I wake up with a start. But to my surprise, there's no earth quake. Instead, I have my neighbor sitting on my sofa. Little shorter than me, thin, beautiful wavy brown hair falling down to the middle of her back. Two small bundles of hair, she calls bangs, curving in just under her eyes.
"You scared the crap out of me! I thought we were having an earth quake."
"Nope, just you," she giggled. "I was trying to wake you but you wouldn't get up."
"Oh ... but, umm, how'd you get in?"
"Spare key ..." with a whole "duh" sound to it.
I had completely forgot that I gave her a spare key last year in case -- which I do frequently -- lock myself out.
"So what's so urgent that you had to wake me?"
"I didn't want to. You looked so peaceful sleeping." Creepy! "Anyway, I wanted to know if you still got that guys number who does massage."
"Oh, no. I'm sorry, hun. He stopped giving massages a while back."
"Oh," she said, in a very depressing tone.
"Why, what's wrong?"
"I think I [tworked] my back," [tworked]? Is that even a word? "and I was hoping he could give me a rub."
"Well let me see how bad it is. Maybe I can help. Sit right here," indicating the ottoman, "and lift up your shirt so I can see what I'm working with."
She straddles the ottoman, one leg on each side, and reaches above her head. She pulls her hair over one shoulder, then pulls her shirt up to her bra strap. I place my hands just above her waist, and I start to work my thumbs into her back. Beginning on each side of her spine, I work all the way up to her bra strap, then back down, farther out toward her sides. When I reach her waist, I do the same thing to her tail bone, after instructing her to lean forward. It's hard to do through pants, but I managed.
"I'm sorry, but I don't feel anything wrong. You're a little tight in your lower back but, other than that, I don't notice anything."
She pulls her shirt back down and tosses her hair over her shoulder, allowing it to fall naturally against the curvature of her back. Turning sideways toward me, she looks at me, then ltilts her head forward and diverts her eyes to the ground.
"If I was any good, I'd pull out my table and toss you on it right ...."
She cuts me off. Still hanging her head, she looks right at me. A small grin growing across her face.
"Would you? Really? I bet you are great at rubbing girl...."
We both turn a few shades red, her more than I.
"I mean, you know, giving massages."
"Okay, okay. Give me some time to stretch [my hands] and get the table out. Say ... 15 minutes?"
She jumps up from the ottoman. She stood before me in an awkward way before quickly leaning over and giving me a brief hug.
"15 minutes. Ima hold you to it!" then she sprints out through the front door.
I take in a deep breath. I hold it in for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. "What am getting myself into?"
Part 2 coming soon, if everyone likes Part 1.