Category Archives: Six Sentence Sunday
Six Sentence Sunday: Behind the Iron Cross
Yes, angels, it’s Six Sentence Sunday, that time of the week when I join in with hundreds of other writers to blog six playful sentences from one of our works. This snippet really isn’t all that playful, but I think it’s a nice piece of character exposition and I’m rather proud of it.
Some background: after Friedrich’s first night with Kat and Sam, he heads home in the rain to the desultory working-class neighborhood of Friedrichshain, where he runs into a prostitute trying to hustle up rent money. When he turns her down, she opens her coat, exposing a pregnant belly, and offers to have sex with him for fifty cents (in Weimar Berlin Münzis, or pregnant prostitutes, were an exotic specialty and charged more than the average streetwalker, but she complains bitterly that the bitches won’t let her work their street). Saddened, he fishes an American dime, part of his own whoring fee for the night, out of his pocket and presses it into her hand. She starts to say that it isn’t enough.
“No, just — just take it. For the baby.”
He left her staring at the coin and started walking again. He still had the dollar, with a promise of more — he could spare a dime for a pregnant whore stuck out in the rain.
After all, he thought, they were both whores now. Nothing wrong with a little collegial assistance.
Six Sentence Sunday: Tied With a Bow
Yes, angels, it’s Six Sentence Sunday, that time of the week when I join in with hundreds of other writers to blog six playful sentences from one of our works. This week, I’m picked the freshly-minted short story “Tied With a Bow,” about a shy bookstore owner who writes scorching smut on the side, and the upstairs neighbors who find out about his secret kink and offer to indulge him, which I will be sending off to a chipper Christmas-themed erotica anthology in the next few days once I get responses from my beta readers. And now, here’s Paul, my shy bookstore owner/author, whose bedroom is right under his neighbors/crushes’ bedroom and gets to listen in to their romps whether he likes it or not…
What was it like, having sex with someone you loved? He’d never thought about having a threesome before Tim and Rory, but now…
He could imagine Tim on his hands and knees, saying something sweet and filthy over his shoulder as Rory fucked him. Or he could be on his back, legs hitched over the taller man’s shoulders. Or maybe the smaller man was the top, holding Rory braced against their headboard as he fucked deeply into his husband’s ass. He could almost see the redhead’s arms outstretched, holding onto the bedposts as if they were tied there, moaning helplessly at every thrust.
Nicola Cameron Writes 