Exquisite

The naked model sits, head bent, arms and hands relaxing. Her beauty is undeniable with pure white skin and long toned legs.

The room is quiet. Everyone is concentrating on brushstrokes and creating a perfect painting, while my quick brush movements against the canvas are remarkable. The background is colorful and the lines of her body immaculate.

“Well done, Nicholas,” says the instructor and pats my shoulder.

Eyes are on me and coldness fills the room.

Ignoring the glares, I concentrate on the finishing touches.

Before me is an exquisite, brilliant image.

My love. The lady who stole my heart.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Fuel For Thought

I miss him already.

Longing for his accommodation from my customary position on his lap. His immediate response to desires communicated with a caress of my foot.

This will be our last intimacy for some time. The intercooler died. The journey to the garage is an uncomfortable affair. Accelerating by exhaling, barely contacting the pedal. Still plunging the road behind into an apocalyptic black cloud of unburnt diesel.

Miles per gallon reading’s down to yards. Glares from other road users threaten to ignite the fuel trail.

“Go green!” They yell.

Jersey is green. Spruce Green. Says so on his logbook.

From Guest Contributor Frances Tate