Welcome, friends! Come in, and let me tell you a Story A Day, all May long…
In June and July, I’ll be drafting two new Kifo Island novels. I know something about 5 of the 6 point of view characters, and I’ve got a sketchy idea of the plots – but I need to learn more about these people and their stories.
So, in May, I explore. Every day, I’ll follow the prompts in A Month of Writing Prompts 2016. I’ll play while moving through my planning efforts. Some of these stories may become part of the eventual novels, but my goal is to invite these characters to show me who they are and what they want – and how their lives fit together to make a novel.
So, for May 22, a story for the daily prompt, “Finding Your Voice,” We were asked to go through our stories to date, find one we felt especially resonated, and write another story that is linked to some element of that.
Week Four’s theme is Strengths – an opportunity to focus more intensely on what’s been working so far.
Warning: This story is rated PG-13 for suggestive themes and a touch of adult language.
For three nights, now, Zeke had stood up on the stage, getting grunts from the drunks that might be called laughs, if someone was charitable in their translation of the facts.
For three days, Zeke had stayed awake, unable to sleep even when he took a sleeping pill, writing and revising and practicing new material. He was on fire, inspired, unable to think of anything but making that gorgeous woman laugh.
“But she hasn’t come back, now has she?” The god-voice taunted. It was jealous; it didn’t want anyone above it in his mind, didn’t want him to think he was good enough on his own to get along without it.
But it didn’t matter if she came to the club or not, because she filled him up, was a new voice and a new force within him. Her throaty laughter was the new music of his heart and soul. He was set to her rhythm, now, and, in some ways, it didn’t matter if he never saw her again, never realized the promise of her body pressed to his, her mouth so hungrily dancing with his.
She was his fire.
She was inspiration.
She was his muse.
So why did his eyes scan the non-crowd, searching for her?
“Because you’re a loser, Carstairs. That’s what you’ve always been, and what you’ll always be.”
That’s not what she’d thought. Zeke was sure of it, and he pushed the god-voice into the back of his mind, let it rant at the dark corners and shadows so he could get to work. The only voice that really mattered now was the voice of her laughter.
The stage manager made the introduction – Zeke had decided to twit the asshole, and name himself Unfunny Man. There were seven drunks here tonight, and a couple that might be only half-flown, so far, so that translated to money he was bringing in.
And then, as he opened his mouth to deliver the first little exploratory zinger, there she was.
His mouth and throat went dry, and all his blood surged to somewhere front and center of his tight blue jeans. She stared at him as she took that seat right by the stage, wearing capri-cut jeans, sandals, and a tank top tonight. She looked like she’d just come off the beach, shades on her head and a sun hat in her hand. She settled in, crossing those legs and licking her lips as her eyes focused on exactly what she was doing to him.
“Now, how’s a fella supposed to stand here and tell jokes when the most gorgeous creature on this island is looking at him like he’s a midnight snack?” He hadn’t meant it to come out of his mouth, but she tipped her head back and gave him that laugh while her fingers trailed lightly over her upper thigh, circling, circling, and where she was looking gave it a whole new meaning.
After that, it was all verbal foreplay.