Tuesday Tales and Being an Author

Ahoy Fellow Fathomers and Happy Short Week to all in the cyberhood.  Our Tuesday Tales group is writing, appropriately, to the word prompt, "author" this week. Once again, I'm pleased to return you to my new WIP, the Fantasy Leagues....Book One - Multiple Scorgasms. 

Finn Maxwell and Danika Parker Meet

During the draft I didn’t meet anyone exciting until Finn Maxwell made it to my table. I couldn’t place it, but, there was something familiar about his eyes. When he told me he worked in physical therapy, I knew I probably had seen him during one of my routine rotations. He sometimes visited patients in the hospital for initial assessments. Familiarity is all I would have gotten. Since my focus isn’t on strangers, he would have been another stick figure in the crowd. But, his eyes, yes, I definitely felt a connection.

This created an unpleasant excitement within me. The sense of acquaintance traced its way down from my pupils to the pit of my stomach. Not understanding the sensation, my first instinct was to flee, my fight or flight awareness humming brilliantly through my nervous system. But, this was just a guy. Just a guy. Get a grip.

Have you ever experienced the feeling something more encompassed the routine? That what we do isn’t just solely a physical performance, but, something we are…something we become? It’s the evolution or the graduation if you will, into a higher level of being. For example, the simple act of studying text books and completing labs transitioned me into a doctor from a student. I became an evolved level of existence by flexing my brain power, reaching into the depths of my mind to connect synapses and neurons. Complex nerves combined to form a memory I will use in the future to diagnose and treat my patients.

Is that what love is? If so, then, how do emotions connect? I understand that when hormones become part of the equation, we are acting on the primal instinct to procreate and continue the species. But, it must be more than just the need to mate. That’s where I’ve lost comprehension. I’m afraid to let myself fall captive to the uncontrollable. The unknown emotional sea is treacherous territory for an analytical like me.

Then in walks Finn Maxwell. Superficially, we connected on a medical level. His manner of speech told me in our short time together he should be an orthopedic physician. He could do it, and I wondered why he wasn’t. Our shared medical passion for helping others seared my outer wall and allowed that tiny seed of interest to grow. Like a pesky weed, I fear I won’t so easily pluck him from my existence, as his eyes allowed access to take root in the recesses of my gut.

Men are parasites! That must be it. He is talking and laughing, making me laugh in return. On the outside I shimmer and giggle, but, on the inside logic curses me. What the hell am I doing? I knew this could happen, it’s why I started this dating experiment in the first place.

Where have I seen him before? I determine this familiarity is the basis for all the nonsensical giddiness. Finn, the parasitic creature, gained access before, just by a glance or maybe even a stare into my soul. When did I give him permission?  Again, it perplexes me. But, I don’t look away. I should turn to salt, but I don’t, I turn to human jello and giggle again at something inane he said. He could give the weather forecast and I would melt by the crescendo that he craftily built into his message.

Holy shit.

Finn is the parasite that invaded me. But, when, I still don’t know. I know it began before now. Whether he completely takes over is beyond me. We may not go on a date, it may not be our fate. That’s entirely up to our teams and our placement. He knows about athletes, I don’t. His team must be much better than mine. That’s what I’ll do, I’ll intentionally “fix” my team to fall at the bottom each week. I know he will emerge toward the top. For I fear if we are alone, something else will take hold and it will make me lose not only my inhibitions, but, my clothes as well.

Thank goodness Ms. Fontaine showed up when she did. I stopped being such a nerd and just relaxed into casual conversation. That’s when Finn really became interesting and I let it happen. I allowed the warmth of his electricity to flow across my skin and just breathed in his masculine scent…could those be the elusive pheromones? Oh dear, I’m doing it again, talking like Spock. Living inside my mind is such a dangerous place for love. It plays hide and seek with my diagnostic conscious, but has yet to emerge as a winner.
Just smile at him you twat, stop being a pansy. I’ve scraped up body parts in real life horror houses, this won’t defeat me. He won’t defeat me.

But, yet, I fear he already has. This walking set of cells called Finn Maxwell took root inside me a long time ago and won’t leave until my subconscious allows it. If only I can remember where those eyes engaged me before, I could possibly escape. I respond to an unimportant question. “Why yes, I have three brothers. They all work in the family business. Me? Oh, no, I wanted to follow a different career path. My parents understood.” Articulate as giving a speech in human anatomy, I nailed the delivery and once again shined. I sing altered words in my mind, I should have been an author but I wound up here.

I nodded and cocked my head, and even batted my eyelashes in a mere three minutes time. It both fascinates and perturbs me, as I didn’t even know I had that feminine ability. It must be genetic, I never practiced these moves to the perfection I demonstrated today. Finn Maxwell, you could be my passionate undoing. 
Now, please visit our other Tuesday Tales writers for their contribution to "mother". Tuesday Tales Main Page


Sarah Cass said…
Wow, she has been taken in!! Well handled...her internal dialogue is great.
Jean Joachim said…
Seems as if she's become captive to Finn. He's made a conquest and not of an easy subject either. Love her overanalysis.
Iris Blobel said…
Oh wow, what a great post. Thoroughly enjoyed "letting myself flow with her thougths". Well done!
Anonymous said…
Nicely done. I feel like I'm sitting in her head, seeing everything she's thinking. Love how you worked the prompt in!
morgan said…
Men as parasites, that would make women the host. Nice imagery,
kathleen ball said…
parasites- I read it as plastic and totally agreed- LOL- nice writing
Jillian said…
Very well done. I love it. I am a big fan of internal dialogue and this was awesome.

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