Micro Monday
A Classic Classified
Sometimes it was better to do things the old-fashioned way…
He waltzed into her office like a Renaissance statue brought to life. His shoulders might as well have been made of marble. That jawline was the definition of chiseled.
But the main attraction was the bulge.
“I saw your ad,” he said. His voice was an appropriate rumble as he slapped a copy of today’s paper onto the little round table. He managed to do so without disturbing her succulents. Excellent control.
“You’re pretty quick,” she purred.
“Don’t worry. I’m not quick where it matters.” He paused. Then added, “Especially for someone this traditional.” He eyed the folded newspaper.
“Too much crap on the Internet,” she quipped.
“Must’ve spent a pretty penny on that ad.”
“Nothing compared to what you’ll get if you satisfy me.”
“Would you mind giving me some inspiration?”
And she did.
A little bit of stretching revealed she wore nothing under her white blouse. Dramatically, she picked up a pen from her table and dropped it to the floor. With agonizing slowness, she bent over to retrieve the writing instrument. She wore nothing under her office skirt either.
He grew and stiffened from the show. There was no need for her to initiate physical touch. He would engage all on his own.
She lifted herself onto the desk and opened herself to him.
“Strip. Eat,” she commanded.
He obeyed. He looked as ravishing unclothed as he did clothed. For once, reality lived up to the imagination.
When he was allowed to surface, he stared into her eyes. “They’re the most beautiful color,” he whispered. “Different colors,” he added.
She merely nodded. It was a common compliment. And observation.
They enjoyed each other thoroughly, spanning a period too short and too long.
When it was time for him to leave, she told him she’d be in touch.
Alone again, she removed her earpiece and her augmented-reality contact lens.
After some editing, she uploaded the video.
Twenty-four hours later, the video earned her millions of views and thousands of dollars.
Dash Ip writes mostly short fiction (as well as longer) and travel stories with the occasional book review and health/fitness article.
He has a deep, dark, dirty secret: He’s a closet novelist, which sounds much better than a “guy who has written a dozen novels and self-published several of them to the silence of the void.”
If you’re not allergic to a YA romance novel with fantasy elements that is a thinly veiled excuse to show off all the traveling the author has done, then please check out No More Summers.
Want to recommend Medium membership to someone? There’s a sexy link for that (I get a cut, thanks).