Flashers by G. Russell

Rendezvoux
© 2008

The phone rang.

"Alice, it's Tom. Can you send one of your girls over to Suite 207 at the Ritz? Brad, George and Orlando want to party."

"I'll be there."

Grateful silence, breathing, then, "She's gotta be discrete, but a total fucking wildcat, capiche?"

Doreen replaced the receiver. She had no idea who Tom was, but Brad! George! Orlando! The Ritz!

'I can bus over there in no time.'

She wiped the pizza crumbs from her tracksuit bottoms, re-squeezed the cyst on her neck, inspected her teeth, which weren't too bad, scraped the dog shit off her ugg boots, and wrestled herself into the old fur coat she kept under the mattress.

'I don't know who Alice is and I don't give a fanny fart,' Doreen told her reflection in the hallway mirror. 'But after fifty three years of trying, I do believe I'll finally get me a boyfriend tonight!'

Nikkatsu
© 2007

Once, a witch put the ghost of a woman inside a tree. The tree stood in the middle of a forest. It had white limbs and green slender leaves. In summer it birthed sweet fruits the birds and beasts ate.

There came a woodsman to that part of the forest. He saw the tree and considered it would make for good firewood. He readied his axe. The woman shuddered. Tears dripped from the shaking leaves and the woodsman paused.

"There's a spell on this tree," he said. He put down the axe.

The tree sang a lullaby and he fell asleep. When he lay down the ghost-woman appeared and unwound her obi so she lay naked alongside the sleeping man.

How beautiful he is, she said to herself. They curled together, the couple, warm in the softness of leaves, and with her deep, strong roots she gripped the heart of the earth, tighter and tighter.

There is a forest. At its heart there are two trees. Their roots tangle and knit over each other. Their branches are entwined and no living person can ever separate them. One produces fruit, the other does not.

They have been there forever.

The South Surbiton Mahjong Incident
© 2005

'Marjorie's at Mahjong... excellent!'

Tom loaded dwarf porn on the VCR, scattered Anal Amputee mags over the floor, put on Marjorie's dress, a blonde wig, smeared lipstick over his mouth.

Next, he greased 'Black Thunder' and huffing, managed to partially insert the hefty phallus.

From the corner, Dolly the Inflatable Sheep eyed him with a look he could only describe as 'up-for-it.'

"Will Tom mind us using your place for Mahjong, Marjorie?" asked Bernice as Phyliss, Delia, Edna and Agnes climbed the stairs to Marjorie's front door.

"Not at all," said Marjorie, turning the key. "I'm sure he'll be pleasantly surprised."

One Day In June
(On A Deserted Beach.)
© 2005

She arched her back, and a golden glint caught her eye. She grasped the object and pulled it from the sand.

A lamp!

Her lover, impervious, increased his rhythm.

A genie appeared. "You've got one wish," it said.

Climaxing, the girl gasped, "I wish it could be like this forever."

Hours later, still stuck together, the couple managed to reach the nearest town.

Cars honked their horns.

People stared.

Some laughed.

Others shouted.

Sirens wailed, louder, louder.

"What were you thinking?" the lover snarled.

"How was I to know the genie would take me literally?" wailed the girl.

Wildlife In Suburbia
© 2004 

Opening the bedroom door, I saw Tony's bare ass, and Julia beneath. One loving hand held his balls, while the other fluted his prick as it slid into her waiting mouth.

I watched, my sense of being melting down to a globule of self-loathing.

From the guest room, Sandra's presence drew me dutifully back. She glanced up from a magazine. "Want to try again?"

My wife's adoring sighs put the snigger, the grit and stone back into Sandra's stare. I heard Tony's voice, "I'm coming!" and Sandra smirked. The wolves, the beasts, had found me. But I did not care.

Salvador's Sofa
© 2004

Once, Salvador Dali's sofa stuck me up its asshole.

It's true.

I removed my blouse, skirt, panties, eyes never leaving the waiting smile on Mae West's lips. I lowered my ass onto the couch, ignoring the "Do Not Sit Here," sign.

I was pulled into the Sofa's maw. Drooling leather smacked my cunt, chomped my clit, slurped my asshole. Suddenly, the sofa puckered into an anus into which I was plunged until, its castors shuddering, a red tongue-cushion expelled a fistful of ants and a coin onto my belly.

Truthfully, it wasn't the best of fucks.

Mona Lisa was better.

Trading Spaces
© 2003

"Hey, George."
"Matt! What's up?"
"Got a favor to ask you. Kinda personal."
"Anything, buddy. Shoot."
"You think me and Miriam could borrow your house this weekend?"
"Borrow my..."
"Yeah. See, we were trying to find a new place to, you know, and we've used every spot in our own house."
"Every single-"
"Frankly, we were eyeing your backporch swing."
"What about your kid's swingset?"
"Been there."
"The piano?"
"First day we moved in."
"Attic?"
"Second day. Look, it's okay if it's too weird for you."
"No, I was just impressed. Sure. Say, Matt?"
"Yeah?"
"Can we borrow the swingset?"

Dying With Anticipation
© 2003

She promised me my greatest fantasy, and now I wait, trembling, eager.

Will she tie me up?

Will she abuse me; force me to do her desires?

Will she be a teacher, babysitter, boss, cop?

Wait! I don't know how, but she's discovered my most secret wish! Her sister! Oh, most perfect wife, sharing your luscious younger sister! I love you my darling!

The bathroom door opens, I cry out, "Yes! Let me fuck your sister now!"

My wife stands there wearing a blonde wig and a startled expression that's rapidly sinking into fury.

I think maybe I guessed wrong....

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