No, wait...not that kind of flasher!
I'm talking about the erotic flash story. Usually 500 words or less, it tells a tale that might be sexy, erotic, or downright pornographic. Sometimes it just makes you think about sex, or about attitudes toward it. Sometimes there is a twist that catches you off-guard, a "gotcha" moment that makes you smile. Sometimes it gets you hot and bothered, and sometimes it inspires you. But the key is to do it in as few words as possible.
So in honor of my love of flashers, here are a few. Enjoy!
New Star's Gem
“Oooooh, Ronnie!” she purred.
She reminded him of a cat, long and lean and supple, digging her painted claws into his chest, shaking her hair and wiggling her hips. Her eyes were flat, emotionless pools. She smiled with pouty lips.
Her lipstick was red and tasted like plastic. Her tits were plastic, too. They were too hard, too perfect, the nipples too permanently erect. The diamonds at her ears glistened, just like those around her neck.
“You like that, baby?”
Ronnie lied and said that he did. He silently calculated the cost of the diamonds. The necklace was probably thirty grand, the earrings a bit less, and the two-point-two on her finger was easily another ten big ones. His accountant would know for sure.
She faked the orgasm. There was no clenching on his cock, no mindless whimpers. It was all calculated.
She was not a very good actress.
Ronnie watched her walk to the bathroom. His cock was quickly going limp. He hadn’t come, and she hadn’t noticed. He looked at the clock on the bedside table: three in the morning. He wanted her to leave, but he didn’t want her to get angry enough to go to a tabloid reporter with one wild tale after another.
He reached into the bedside drawer and pulled out his wallet. When she saw the money, he saw some fire in her eyes.
The bills were many and large. She squealed in delight and kissed him all over the face. He pushed her away.
“Buy yourself something nice,” he said, like he always did.
“I love you so much, Ronnie!”
He watched her walk out. He threw the empty wallet on the floor. He might have loved her, if fortune and fame were not the only things he had left to give.
A Hard Day’s Work
The sound of machinery was completely out of place in the tastefully decorated offices of Parker and Parker, Attorneys at Law. The men just outside the window wore hard hats and dirty jeans. They worked with one small machine after another, each one making more noise than the last.
Sally should have been working. She should have been writing reports and taking notes, but she was too busy watching that man. The one who worked hardest, whose muscles stood out in strong relief against the fabric of his shirt. The one who had lifted one of those machines from the back of the truck all by himself.
Tiny rivers of sweat ran down his temple. He was covered in concrete dust and five o’clock shadow. His shirt was soaked with sweat. She wondered if he would smell good when she peeled that shirt away. Would she find the honest smell of hard-working man?
The thought made her cross her legs for a little relief. When he lit up a cigarette during a quick break, Sandy sighed along with every exhale.
He was there every day. On Friday the crew left early. She watched him walk around the side of the building and let out the breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
She was startled to see him in the elevator thirty minutes later. His hard hat was gone and so was most of the concrete dust. His eyes were a piercing blue. He smelled just like she thought he would. The scent of virile man hit her right between her thighs.
“You’ve been watching me,” he drawled. “From your window.”
Sally’s voice was level despite the blushing. “Going down?”
“Very soon,” he said. Sally took a deep breath.
She smiled as she pressed the button for the garage.