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Nocturnal (Part 3)(Mature Subject Matter)

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The clatter of the plates was calming. The clinking noise of the glasses made her feel safe. Reassured. She looked down at the dissolving suds and smiled. Her fingers were beginning to prune. Just a few more and she would be done ... although she was not rushing. This was her only refuge for tonight.

She heard the kids in the bathroom fighting over the sink. Obviously the one who got to spit out their toothpaste first was the most important. Oh, and it looks like her son had won tonight. There was the droning hum of the news on the television in the living room. Her husband was probably passed out asleep in his recliner by now.

She turned on the water to rinse the sink. She thought of last night with the Middle Eastern boy. It made her shiver as she still felt his lips on her body. He had been so passionate and amazing that she thought they might catch fire. She still was burning as she watched the grey water drain and the sink empty. Empty. He was turning out to be an incredible find and necessary with the stressful week she had.

She had to let the Indian guy go ... the little fool had the nerve to ask if they could do a swinger site together! Then over lunch her co-worker tells her their little 'fun times' were causing feelings to form. She thought she was in love with her. Seriously, needed to grow up. Now things were going to be a little awkward in the office. Yes, it was time to simplify.

Now there was her beautiful Arab, and yeah, the other guy. He was a very sweet and frustrated married man with piercing blue eyes. He was a great listener and really wanted to see her not just in the bedroom. Both were not expecting anything serious but knew that it was to fill their needs for now. Plus, he was talented with his mouth. Very talented.

She was still staring at the sink. She was getting really bad about losing time. Just had to focus a little longer. Then she could find comfort in the numbness. There was a shriek from her children as they spied a beetle on the floor. She swooped in and killed it. Then she got all her little ones in their beds. Stories, kisses, and goodnights. She was closing the door...

"I loooove joooo, Mommy," her youngest one chirped.

"I love you too baby," she answered and headed into the darken living room. Her husband was now in full on snore. She picked the remote up from the floor where he had dropped it. She planted herself on the couch and prepared herself for the evening. She ran her wrinkled fingers through her hair, twirling the tips. It was a cold.  She changed the channel. Some show about some woman looking for something and arguing with her sister.

She stared at the screen and started to lose the night. The lonely night.

Comments (4)

This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Nice grun. A couple of questions. Are you posting these as you write them, or are you posting them from a story you already completed?
Also, do you feel different after you're done with a story? I recently finished "Tia Ofelia." I'm posting...

Nice grun. A couple of questions. Are you posting these as you write them, or are you posting them from a story you already completed?
Also, do you feel different after you're done with a story? I recently finished "Tia Ofelia." I'm posting bits and pieces of it. Over the past year it's been the third story I finish, and I've noticed that after finishing each, I feel sick. A little naseous and empty. do you experience anything different after finishing a story?

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a
This comment was minimized by the moderator on the site

Thanks Berto. I am posting as I write these and see this as an being a three character play eventually. Yes I do experience writer's 'morning sickness' as well as being drained. Is it worse when you write the whole story flat out? I seem to have...

Thanks Berto. I am posting as I write these and see this as an being a three character play eventually. Yes I do experience writer's 'morning sickness' as well as being drained. Is it worse when you write the whole story flat out? I seem to have to pace myself....oh, and you can call me Shell. :o)

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grunfruaorshell
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K Shell. I don't know if it is worse writing the whole story flat out. I seldom do that. I have noticed, particularly with Ofelia, that climaxes leave me exhausted. Double entendre done completely on purpose!! But seriously, the scene where...

K Shell. I don't know if it is worse writing the whole story flat out. I seldom do that. I have noticed, particularly with Ofelia, that climaxes leave me exhausted. Double entendre done completely on purpose!! But seriously, the scene where Ofelia dies left me drained for awhile.

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a
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I understand. When you have to give life (and death) to a character, it really takes something out of you mentally, emotionally, and physically. You are with a chisel at the rock of yourself and chipping off pieces to give away. Sometimes it is...

I understand. When you have to give life (and death) to a character, it really takes something out of you mentally, emotionally, and physically. You are with a chisel at the rock of yourself and chipping off pieces to give away. Sometimes it is uplifting pleasure (or climax to borrow an entendre if I may) and sometimes it is labor pains. Whether its sex or giving birth, the result afterwards is the same: you just want to sleep.

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grunfruaorshell
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