#aimeeflash

Goneril x

“Damn it, you can’t wear that! It’s boring.” Craig wanted to run his hands through his hair in frustration, but he’d spent at least five minutes getting it into a style he actually liked. It made him look younger. His girlfriend pouted at him, and turned to look critically at herself in the mirror. “What’s wrong with it? We’re going to a dinner, not a cocktail party.” Craig groaned as her reflection bit her lip and worried over her conservative dress. They’d be late if she didn’t get her act together soon. He strode to the wardrobe and grabbed a short skirt, then rummaged through her tops until he found the one he liked. He shoved the rest messily back in the drawer and threw his choices at her. “Put those on. And don’t forget the bloody heels.” He checked his watch. She stood, gaping at the clothes and making irritating sounds of protest. “But, babe, those are just skimpy clubbing clothes… I couldn’t wear them to a dinner…” Craig snapped. “Put them on or I’ll dress you myself. You’re invited to this dinner to make me look good. I want every man in there watching you, wondering what we’ve been doing to run so late, and wanting to know how I’ve managed to get you. So shut your mouth, get dressed, and hurry the fuck up!” She flinched, and her mouth flattened into a thin line. Great, now she was pissed. He needed her to be charming. “Listen,” he lowered his voice. “This is an important night for me. You know I need to make an impression, and I need you to help me. Just, be nice and flirty for me. I want them to keep inviting me back.” Finally, they were leaving. Craig patted his pockets, eyes scanning the hallway as he ran through his mental checklist. Keys, phone, wallet, girlfriend… check.

To everyone who contributed stories, read some of our prose, or knows us, Merry Christmas.

“Mmmm… I can’t believe how good that was!” Tara grinned lazily. “Honestly, that was the best I’ve ever had. I’ll have another one, please.” Ben raised an eyebrow, and looked down at the empty glasses in front of her. “When you’re ready, of course.” “Are you sure? I mean, you’ve had these all night – how about something a little gentler?” Persuasion was Ben’s newest weapon. Tara sulked until he relented. “All right, how about you try a Deep Throat? It’s similar to the Orgasm, but with added cream-” He lurched forward to catch Tara as she swayed slightly and hiccupped. “Sure, whatever you want. You’re the boss!” As she giggled to herself, Ben reluctantly moved back and started making her drink. Tara dragged the nearest menu through a puddle of beer. Propping her face up on her hand and getting her elbow wet from the sticky mess on the bar, she frowned down at the cocktail list. “Hey! There’s no vodka in a Deep Throat!” She tried a sexy whine. “Beeeen! Are you trying to sober me up?” The drink appeared in front of her. “Vodka’s not the only alcohol, you know.” Ben placed the shot down carefully. “Four-eighty.” Tara fumbled for her purse and pouted at the few coins she had left. “Hey, Ben, stop serving me drinks now, ‘kay? She thrust her purse in his face to demonstrate exactly how broke she was. “I can’t afford to keep meeting you like this!” As she giggled again, Ben’s hand closed around hers and pushed the purse back towards her. He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “Ok, this time, and only this time, it’s on the house. Just don’t tell my boss.” Seconds later, an empty shot glass hit the plastic bar with a resounding smack. “Fucking hell, that was amazing!”