First off, WARNING: violence, sex and foul language ahead. Also thanks for looking!! I would love to receive some opinions/critiques on this piece. It’s another short story I’ve been working on to practice my technique, so all honest critiques are welcome.
I broke this up into two parts because I need more help with the second part than the first and it’s a bit long. I’m sure the first half needs work as well, but I’m less confident with the second part because of the action (among other things) involved. Overall the story is 1347 words long, but the first part is 477 and the second is 870. I think if you start off with the second part it will make enough sense for a critique but the first part really brings it together. So…
Part one (for part 2 go to my next post):
Mud slows its escape from under Jake’s boots. The once flourishing grass, now brown and shriveled, is forgotten. Only his bedroom window maintains his focus as familiar music penetrates the night from within. When clouds clear the waning moon, his breath is barely visible as its vapor returns to the atmosphere. It distracts him and his debating ends.
With eager fingertips he inspects the window’s edge and tests the latch; it’s unlocked. Sliding it open, quietly, just an inch, like he had a hundred times before when they would play one of their lovers’ games.
The games were her idea, but he never objected, and this had been his favorite. He would stand outside the window and spy. First, she’d strip, innocently, as if there was no audience. Sometimes, she’d gaze at her reflection while examining her beautiful figure; as if scrutinizing her flaws. Comb her raven hair, skimming the nipples of her full breasts with each stroke. Subtle prompts which allowed him to be rapt in his role. Jake was the thief, she, the precious gem.
Next, he’d watch his victim climb across her bed, reach into the nightstand for her toy of choice and then prime his treasure.
Soft music would play while she pleasured her delicate rose and he waited, hungrily, for his cue to take stage. He’d allow her to climax, his spying heightened her excitement and she’d always peak swiftly, before slipping through the window to steal her goods.
Her performance was superb. A lesser man would have given up the fight, but she liked it rough and he’d master the challenge. They always left the stage with bruises; little reminders of their excitement.
Tonight is different.
It’s not her silhouette he spies through the window; not at first. Instead, the smooth, tattooed back of her lover glares at him. Like all her latest conquest, he’s barely a man.
Jake should have known better than to stay, but he wants, needs, to see it.
Her red dress hits the floor at Lover Boy’s feet. He embraces her and nuzzles her breasts; the silky breasts of the woman Jake loves. The only woman he has ever loved. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, an expression of ecstasy which belongs to Jake.
Innocently, as if she has no audience, she unfastens his pants and examines him with a smile. He has no flaws. Jake trembles, his throat tightens, head throbs with rage and fists dig into the stucco, attempting to numb the pain in his chest, as Lover Boy steals the sensation of her curves. Tracing the skin of the woman he cherishes.
She wraps her legs around him.
He carries her to the bed.
She lays back, knees bent, willing and ready.
He presses his lips to the delicate flower Jake had loved and nurtured since adolescence.
She moans with pleasure.