Hump Day Kick Start – Lounge and Longing Edition

Song of the Day: Asking Too Much by All That Remains

Hump Day Kick Start – for your muse, a writing picture prompt, or just a visual treat.

couch

Since I’m in New Orleans this week, I thought this picture was a great prompt. The scenery of the room reminded me of a Southern sitting room.

So who is our couple? Is she a docent of historic plantation home? Is he the groundskeeper? A tourist who happened into a private part of the home? Who seducing whom? Maybe she’s the daughter of a wealthy county judge and he’s a con artists working his way into the family. Or are the roles reversed? Is he trying to win her back after a terrible misunderstanding? Could he be a lonely bachelor trying to convince her to stay with him for one more night?

Your turn. I’d love to hear your take.

12 Responses to Hump Day Kick Start – Lounge and Longing Edition

  1. girldrinkdrunk says:

    “Oh my gosh, honey, you’re right! Your feet smell like popcorn–just like the dog’s!”

    Like

  2. jbrayweber says:

    Haha! Maybe he loves popcorn, Kristen. 😄

    Like

  3. Sarah Andre says:

    Why I do declare! I’ll be back as soon as I think of somthin’ Southern enuf.

    Like

  4. jeff7salter says:

    My, my, my — such a lovely lass. thanks, Jenn, for today’s eye-candy.
    Okay, here’s Vanessa’s story:

    When Rupert said he adored Vanessa, she naturally assumed he meant that he loved her.
    Nope. Rupert had in mind that older meaning of adoration — he practically worshiped at the shrine of Vanessa.
    In the beginning, that novel treatment was … shall we say, interesting to Vanessa, but as time went on, she became impatient for Rupert to move on to other matters.
    “Rupert, you’ve already spent 87 minutes of adoration at my feet. Let’s move on to to matters presently unattended.”
    “Huh?” For his relatively handsome features, Rupert was no whiz in the brain department.
    “Higher, Rupert,” said Vanessa. “You need to reach higher.”

    Like

  5. jbrayweber says:

    Oh my, Jeff. A Southern girl just might blush. Love it!!!

    Like

  6. jeff7salter says:

    heh heh heh

    Like

  7. Will Graham says:

    “Fetch my Black and White Cookies, pal, and then we’ll see what happens!” – The Pistol as an Adult

    Like

  8. jbrayweber says:

    Whoa! I’m not ready for Pistol to be an adult like this, William. Lol

    Like

  9. Sarah Andre says:

    Ty was New Orleans with some old frat buddies for Jason’s bachelor party. It was all supposed to be fun and games (and by that I mean: excessive drinking and hunting for ho’s.) But while bar hopping in the French Quarter they passed a decrepit house turned into a Spiritual Shoppe on the corner of Toulouse and Dauphine.

    The signs in the barred window offered palm reading, tarot cards, crystals, incense and smoke paraphernalia. Ty was tipsy enough to take on Jason’s double-dog-dare and carelessly strolled inside. Alone. On a night where the moon rose full and was tinged red. Outside he heard the fading laughter of his buddies.

    He glanced around the empty place. It was dimly lit with many candles and the bitter scent of patchouli. A small table covered in purple tasseled scarves and 2 wrought iron chairs centered the room. Shelves surrounded the four walls, cluttered with bottles of potions, beaded jewelry and dolls that eerily resembled voodoo make-your-own dolls. Crystals hung from the ceiling like raindrops, flashing rainbow colors as they reflected in the hundreds of candle flames.

    Ty turned in a full circle, and when his eyes landed back at the table a breathtakingly beautiful woman in purple satin robes sat in one of the chairs as if she’d been there the whole time. He hadn’t heard the beaded curtain, footsteps, nothing! Hiding a shiver he sauntered over and took the other seat.

    “What is it you wish to know?” she asked in a voice as smooth and smoky as bourbon. Ty fought back the smart-ass response that popped to mind: ‘will you have hot monkey sex with me?’ and glanced at the crystal ball and tarot cards next to her long, slender fingers tipped in blood red.

    “Perhaps,” she said.
    Ty blinked. “I didn’t say anything.”
    “Not with your voice.”
    Ty began to sweat in his white button down. “What’s your name?”
    “They call me the High Priestess.”
    “Who’s they?”
    She shrugged. “Everyone in the French Quarter. I come from a long line of first daughters who have special…let’s just say…talents.” Even though she splayed a hand across the cards and what looked like a pile of rat bones, her smile signified something else entirely.

    He cleared his throat. “I’m Ty.”
    “I know.”
    “You do?” In disbelief he sat back and folded his arms. “So what else do you know about me, Oh High Priestess?”

    “You’re here with some fraternity brothers on a bachelor weekend. You aren’t having much fun, but don’t want them to know it. You live in Houston and are successful in sales, have many friends, but let no one close. And although you’re extremely handsome you are deeply lonely.”

    Shaken, he wiped the sweat from his upper lip. It was so hot in here with all these f’in candles!

    “Then come upstairs.” She winked at his dropped jaw. “The night breeze blows cool through my bedroom window.” She rose gracefully, her purple robes swirling around her in slow motion. “When you can feel your legs again the stairs are through the beaded curtain and on the right.”

    She crossed to the curtain soundlessly and he was left with the tinkling beads, the strong, heady scent of patchouli and his stunned thoughts. He should probably leave, his friends were probably waiting. He didn’t know this chick from Eve, he’d be stupid to blindly go upstairs and continue this odd encounter.

    And yet, as if hypnotized, he rose and slowly walked up the old, creaky stairs. Everything in her bedroom was a blinding white, including the curtains fluttering in the breeze, the pearls around her neck, the lacey peek-a-boo lingerie and her strappy stilettos. Her raven hair and crimson lipstick contrasted starkly among the all that pure whiteness.

    “You’ve bewitched me,” he accused softly from the doorway. “Somehow. Like you have a voodoo doll of me or that incense downstairs put me in a trance.”

    “I did nothing of the sort.” She said it with conviction and yet he was suddenly compelled to strip to his undershirt and boxers. Then his feet moved on their own volition to the foot of her chaise lounge. He eyed her lush, curvy body hungrily, not caring if she read his thoughts or saw the visions of what he wanted to do to her flash through his mind. When his eyes slowly wandered up to meet hers he could tell by her smile she’d seen and heard all of it.

    She raised her arm and fluffed her hair carelessly. “Get on your knees,” she ordered. He dropped where he’d stood.

    “I am a High Priestess, Ty. If you want all that you’ll have to beg me.”

    And that’s the snapshot of what happened next.
    😉

    Happy RT, Jenn!

    Like

  10. jeff7salter says:

    another win for Sarah

    Like

  11. jbrayweber says:

    Oooh…saucy! Just the way I like it. Another amazing story, Sarah. And maybe because I’m here in the Crescent City, I can feel the steam in the air and breeze, smell the pachouli, hear the beads. Or maybe it’s because you are a natural.

    Like

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