Tuesday Tales...Did You Say Short and Curlies?

Happy Hot Tuesday and welcome to The Locker. Today, I again return to my current WIP, re-titled Split the Uprights for my Fantasy Leagues series. This week we write to the word prompt "curly". I gotta admit, when I saw this prompt, it immediately made me think of grabbing someone by the short and curlies...bahahaha... Isn't that sort of a conflicting term? If I didn't like someone very much, I definitely don't wanna be touching their private coiffe. Anyway, in the midst of the joking, I present to you my contribution to Curly!  It's exciting because I'm so close to the end of writing this first book. Which means, it will retire from soon from Tuesday Tales. I may get one or two more out of it. :) I'll just have to wait and see.

 So, my life was going to shit faster than popsicles melt in Atlanta. I was blacking out again, but, that was my own fucking fault. I ran the ashamed asylum, right here in my own home…bar, the two places were one in the same these days. All those years of sobriety went right out the window, just about the time Marty left.

Marty.

He looked nothing like his father, his motherly contribution must have had the stronger genes. Of course, she ran her home with an iron fist.  She probably demanded his father’s sperm do only enough to fertilize and leave the rest of the zygote to her. It’s true, if anyone has that modicum of control, it was her. Poor Marty had to live with a militant mother and a distant self-absorbed father. What a combo.

I poured myself another round. Tonight, it was honey bourbon. I would have rounded it out with a cigar, if I’d planned my pity party with the right checklist. Who needs hors d’oeuvres either? Not me. My mom tried to be my best friend, that’s where she screwed up. She was my first roommate and my last, I couldn’t stand anyone else sharing the same address after my experience with her.

The room temperature alcohol burned with a sweetness all the way down to my tummy. The warmth spread from the inside out, cocooning me with an amber glow. Marty was such an idiot. He clamored after me like a horny teenage boy. He never got enough of me, even when I was in need of a shower and some mouthwash. He always kissed me thoroughly after I swallowed. Not trying to find the remnants of a taste, but, to let me know he appreciated what I did. He wasn’t repulsed by my feral appetite.

My thoughts replayed our last union. All I could think about was lacing my fingers through his curly hair and pulling very hard. He liked for me to pull his hair. I never heard much about a man wanting his hair pulled, only a woman.  Marty was a trailblazer in many senses of the word.  I learned so much from him. My hair brushed over my shoulder. I caught a glimpse of my pathetic self in the mirror and fell apart all over again. I cried harder with the realization my life paralleled a country music song. What a fucking cliché.

BEFORE YOU LEAVE ME FOR SOME OTHER AWESOMELY TALENTED WORKS, PLEASE CHECK OUT MY LATEST REVIEW! Here's just a snippet- "The main characters are realistic and draw the reader into their struggle to explore their feelings and build a relationship. With elements of love, friendship, erotic sex scenes, humor, romance, and a hint of suspense, this titillating tale fires up the senses to deliver an entertaining read."
Goodreads Ind'Tale Review Sexy Bea Spelling

Now head over to our main page for more responses to the word prompt "curly"...;)Tuesday Tales Main