Microfantasy Monday is the creation of Sweltering Celt. In honor of the one year anniversary of her prompt, she asks the following:
I want you to write a microfantasy involving me this week. Sure, you don’t have to follow the theme if you don’t want, but those of you that DO follow the theme and post your microfantasy by Wednesday (hey, if I can’t post on time I can’t expect anyone else to every week!) will be entered into a little celebratory contest. The winner of the contest will have come up with the most creative, exciting, and makes-me-want-to-try-it microfantasy. (let’s say less than 500 words)
Here’s my problem. This is only the second time I’ve participated and how do I involve her when I know nothing about her?
“Picking up a stranger”
Her green/blue eyes drew my attention, but her full-figure made my mouth water. She was with a group, it appeared to be two couples, but I was puzzled as to who belonged to whom. They all seemed ‘together’ in a way that bespoke of long years of intimacy and trust. She glanced up and caught my interest in the bar mirror. She smiled and winked, so quickly I almost missed the flirty look. I gulped, it was one thing to admire discretely, quite another to be confronted. She leaned over to the man next to her and murmured in his ear. Placing her napkin on the table, she gracefully rose and made her way to the rear of the restaurant.
I casually followed, lingering in the hall, waiting for her to emerge from the facilities. When she did, she studied me carefully before leaning against the wall, arms folded and head questioning. I swallowed, nervously moistening my mouth. “Hi.”
“I was wondering if you are single.”
“But I am available, for the right fantasy. Care to take a chance?”
My eyes must have bulged because she smirked and started to move past me. Reflexively I reached out and barred her path. When she opened her mouth, to speak, to scream, I quickly covered her with my hand, her tongue slick in my palm. She struggled, not very convincingly, so I pinned one arm behind her back and pressed her against the wall. “Is this a good start?” I asked.
Her eyes widened, not with fear, but with interest. I felt her head nod under my hand, so I took that chance, and removed my fingers from her mouth. She gasped for breath, but said nothing, only writhed around my body. “Shall we return? I think your companions are probably worried.”
Returning to her table with me in tow, I was met with three pairs of interested eyes, several fairly hostile. She briefly spoke of her challenge and the eyes quickly turned amused at my expression. One of the men asked me, “So what do you plan?”
I glanced around the restaurant; it contained scattered couples and singles. “Does she often behave this badly in public with complete strangers?” When I received affirmative gestures I said, “Well then. Since she is naughty in public, she should be punished in public.”
The green-eyed vixen protested but all three of her ‘friends’ enthusiastically agreed with my suggestion. Rather than helping however, they sat back, quite relaxed and eager for the show.
I chose an unused table close by, clearing off all the settings. I pulled the stiff woman to the table, bending her over the edge and binding her hands with a napkin. Pulling her jeans down to mid-thigh, I grabbed a bread tray off a counter and prepared to punish the naughty girl. The restaurant was completely silent for the next twenty minutes: expect for the steady popping noise of wood on flesh and the plaintive cries of suffering.