My lover, he leaves me wanting

There is something about the evening sun that captures me.

I love the way the evening sun bathes my bedroom in orange and yellow hues as he streams in through the window. I love the way the evening sun throws shadows of the flowers on my window ledge upon the lifeless wall, bringing instant life when the winds blow softly. And surely I love the way the evening sun caresses me with such light warmth, ever so gently, lulling me into a drug-induced slumber.

And like an illicit lover, my cries for him to stay just a little while longer fall on deaf ears. All too soon, he slips out of my room as quietly as he entered, leaving in his wake darkness and cold. I pull the sheets closer around me, and shiver.

The Making Of, Some Kind of Everywhere

DL was in full swing, telling us all about his exotic experience at a "mens' only" massage spa...

... including the bit where the masseuse kept ringing him back on his mobile to... chat.

"Where did he touch you?" she asked, impishly.

"... ah, some kind of everywhere"

It had a nice ring to it.

And so the name stuck.

*****
Some kind of everywhere - not some kind of wonderful.

Quantity, and diversity - as opposed to purported poseurish 'quality'.

We can damn well write about anything we please here.

And I trust with this crew of writers, quality will be a given.

Sanity and discretion may not be.... laugh

Now let the games begin.

Generic Sappy Story

"Amen".

The world blazes back to life as he opens his eyes.

There is a girl there, seated at the table to his left.
Light and shade contrast strongly here, in the dim orange light of the restaurant. Everything's in soft-focus.

She's still saying Grace. We have an impression of Her being lanky, and tanned; slightly broad shouldered. Her head is bowed and her eyes are closed in prayer. Her mouth is absolutely still - her lips don't move in silent prayer or anything trite like that.

But as we watch closely, the corners of her lips twitch upwards. She is saying Grace with joy, and gratitude. She is thanking God.

A single strand of hair courses intimately down the right side of her face, lightly skimming her cheek, the angle of her jawline, and then further down towards her shoulder. It makes her look somehow vulnerable, almost childlike.

He doesn't move a muscle; he doesn't reach out to touch her.
But we watch his eyes, and see that something inside him has broken... for the very first time.

Realisation is dawning.

Truth will out.

*****
End scene.

Littlemissshagalot

If living life is like staying in a hotel, then I would like a room at the Shangri-La please. Make that a suite, with my personal butler - six pack, no less.

Forrest Gumptionless

Living life is like eating a box of chocolates...

Everytime you take a piece out and want to eat it, a great big bear comes along and smacks it out of your hand, pops it into his mouth, and walks away, without even a word of thanks.

Forrest Grumpy

Life... is like a box of chocolates.

If you don't guard it close enough, the ants will take it away.