This morning I got an early start to my day, much earlier than usual. The sauna was in full sway, so I lost some weight, I think, and have the opportunity to get a few extra hours in.
I played a couple of games of Farm Heroes. I went to the writer's sites and checked out what's happening there. I checked my blog and read and just messed around. Then I decided to get up and start on this. Extra time so no pressure.
Yesterday was good. We got more of the house cleared out and have only the living room, dining room, kitchen and family room to go. Hubby said he's already gone through some of the stuff in the family room, so progress is being made. The pile in the garage attests to that.
My coffee has just about stopped dripping. That'll be nice. The best part of waking up and so on.
I did manage to spend some time on my story yesterday, but I'm back near the start instead of where I want to pick it apart. Thinking about it, I'm not sure what the hang-up is, but I've decided to do something not outlined in the other day's blog post. It will be similar to, and be a compendium of, but not one or the other or part of two.
This weekend also saw another entry in the Flash Fiction arena. A response to the prompt 'warm up' and it was well received. Not a whole lot of votes, but a respectable number, so I'm pleased.
It was a story about... well, heck, I'll let you read it for yourself, and then I'll go off and start working on 'Shady' because I'm having second thoughts about some of what I added (does it add to the story and move it forward? No. So what am I going to do about it? I don't know. I need to think about it.)
* * * * *
The Student
Sheila tipped her head back with a sigh, closed her eyes and
rubbed her hands over her face. She was more than exhausted. She was running on
fumes and it was still three days before her midterms. Between her job and
school, sleep was a precious commodity, indeed. In the other room, the clock
chimed – once. Outside, from the window to the streetlights, it was pitch
black.
“Well, I’m not doing anyone any good, now.” Pushing the
chair back, she stood, turned out the desk lamp and staggered across to the
bed, collapsing across it without taking time to remove her robe.
* * * * *
“Time.” The proctor looked around at the small group, noting
the long, drawn faces, and smiled. He had been there, years before and had no
pity for the latest crop. “Put down your pencils and pass your test books,
notes and scorecards to the front. Then you may leave.”
Next to her, Wren slid her hand to about shoulder height.
“Excuse me, sir?”
“Yes?”
“When will the test results be posted?”
“Next Wednesday, and your scores will also be e-mailed.” He
looked around again and smiled, “And just think, in a few months one or two of
you may be clerking for a Supreme Court Justice. If you did well enough.”
Sheila just shook her head, gathered her things, stood, and
followed the others out the door. I wish.
* * * * *
“You’re late!” Larry stood in the doorway of the dressing
room, his fat face bright red and glistening with sweat. From behind him, the
bump and grind of the music told her how long she had to finish getting ready.
Plenty of time because Lily would finish and then Debi would take over.
Sheila didn’t do more than look over as she slipped the fine
net stocking over her toes. “I told you I had my last mid-term today and that
I’d be late.”
He advanced into the room. Three months earlier she would
have been both repulsed and frightened. Now she was bored.
She slid the sheath higher, taking care not to snag a
fingernail on it. He wouldn’t do anything to her, and he wouldn’t fire her. As
Bambi Bedlight she was one of his biggest draws. The butt, boobs and baby-blues
that made her professors to disbelieve she also had a brain were her, and
Larry’s, greatest assets. At her thigh, she clipped it into the garter and bent
over to repeat the action with her left leg.
“You think you’re special.” Larry spat. “You’re not. You’re
a whore, just like the rest of them. You’ll never get a job away from here.”
Still she ignored him, turning to the mirror and adjusting
the skimpy bra, pushing the silver pasties down below the edge of the fabric.
He came closer still, until he was right behind her, his
angry, piggy eyes glaring at her through the glass. “What makes you think
you’re so special? You think I couldn’t stop you dead in your tracks? A word
here, a picture there, you’d never get a job.”
She spun in a slow, deliberate motion, dismissing his threat
with her action. “Yeah, you could do that, but that’s blackmail and that’s a
crime. So you try it, Larry, just try it. I know about you and your little
sideshow. The girls you bring into L.A. from Mexico for some of the pervs you
call customers. You want to blackmail me, you go right ahead, but I’ll use the
ashes of you, your reputation and your business to warm up my law career with the
D.A.” She turned back to the mirror, picked up the lipstick and leaned forward
to get a better look as she drew it on. She wasn’t naïve enough to ignore
Larry, so watched him although her focus was on the line of her lips.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He hissed.
She did, though, so didn’t say anything. In a week she’d get
her grades. She was confident in the test, she had studied hard and thought she
had done well. Her application was ready and, as soon as she got the grade, she
would attached a screenshot of it and send them off.
Debi’s music was getting close to the end. After another
check, she straightened and stepped around Larry, heading for the long bar with
its poles, spotlights and drunken patrons jacking off inside their britches.
* * * * *
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” The light brown eyes
squinted in concentration. “I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere.”
She froze and swallowed, afraid that he had, that he’d seen a lot of her. If she wasn’t mistaken, he
was one of the regulars at the club.
“Well, no matter. Have a seat. The others will be here in
just a minute.” He sat down across the long table from her, his eyes not moving
as he thought.
After a minute of shrieking nerves, she made a decision.
Sliding forward on the chair she folded her hands on the polished wood. “I’ve
never broken the law. I’ve never done anything criminal, but you might know me
from my job.”
“Oh?”
She moved back, her stomach cramping. “I work at The Harem.
I’m a dancer. It’s how I’ve paid my way through school.”
His jaw dropped as the blood surged into his cheeks and then
drained.
“Look, I don’t want to do that for the rest of my life. I
did it to earn money for school. If you don’t say anything, neither will I, but
don’t disqualify me for this job because of that. Consider it a mistake, but if
I get this job, I won’t go back there except to clear out my locker and get my
last paycheck.”
It took a long minute while he thought, but then he smiled.
“That’ll be a shame.”
She relaxed and confided, “I even have a case for you.”
* * * * *
So, there we have it. Not even four-thirty and my blog post is done, including minor edits to a short piece I put up on Saturday. Now, the coffee is ready and I'll go over and get to work on 'Shady'.
Have a lovely day!
Best~
Philippa
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