The first one is for Erin Cole´s Of the Night Contest:
Maybe there´s a ton of fun in this, watching this; women writhing shamelessly, naked and displayed on stage, their oily skin glistening in salmon filtered light.
All the men seem to think so. They´re all raw cheering and heavy eyelids. Strangely focused through the beer-haze.
Alexia brings another round and tries to ignore them, their looks and insistent hands. She waltzes effortlessly through the crowd, that´s the trick; never stop, never hesitate.
Her concentration slips when midnight is long since gone and her feet are bleeding tales of pain. She´s in the bathroom trying cold water on the blisters when he enters. Too fast. Too determined.
He´s fat, drunk and in one of those checked flannel shirts that smells of sweat and dust and predator instinct. She grabs his ear and tries to rip it off, but that only seems to fuel him and her tights are torn and he´s pounding, pounding. Her forehead hits the mirror repeatedly and she feels that, only that, and then he´s gone and she´s on the floor, her teeth clattering in a way that could have been funny in another time and place.
She disciplines herself and exits.
The next round she brings is on the house. And the next one after that. The men cheer. He´s still there and there´s a shadow of uncertainty in his stupid, wasted eyes, but she gets Vodka and then there´s nothing more than intoxication.
Come dawn they´re all too drunk and sleepy, they want to leave.
So she locks the door, undresses and climbs onto the pathetically filthy stage. Does her waltz around a pole now. And they forget about sleep, excited gleams in their eyes as they watch her, respond to her.
They drink Vodka from her Cinderella shoes and she offers her breasts for touching, licking.
When they pass out she drenches the old wooden floor in spare gas she finds in their trunks. It´s more difficult to set on fire than she would have thought, but she´s persistent.
She leaves in that checked flannel shirt, a strange trophy, high on predator instinct.
The second one is my winning entry =) from last week´s Lily´s Friday Prediction:
A Profound Mistake
”We are grateful,” said the Japanese empress, three years old, and returned to her tea.
The interpreter nodded, uncertain.
”You do realise, you can´t own it, the Stonehenge, I mean,” said the Dealer.
The slant of a smile as she accepted her third cup.
”You´ve already given it to me!”
The Dealer exchanged looks with the interpreter, a pasty man draped in too bright red.
She laughed, a chilling sound, betraying her immortality.
”It´s already been placed in my garden. It fits perfectly.”
The Dealer paled as he realised his mistake; ancient magic should never be revealed to a vampire.
Happy Halloween, everyone =)