The gauntlet was thrown down so what else could I do but accept? Anne Ferrer Odom http://www.flashinganne.com/asiberianvacation/ has challenged me to participate in The 24 Hour Wooden Spoon Challenge. The rules? Write a 2k word story in 24 hours including the following parameters:
cooler of Gatorade
Please be gentle, I’m a newbie ;) so with no further ado, here ya go!
“It was a dark and snowy night, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse, blah-blah crap.”
I deliberately mashed-up whatever words popped into my head as I wiped down the bar for the final time. I was thinking of closing early tonight.
It was another bust, a waste of time and money opening the bar during a snowstorm when the house band cancelled. Hell, even the hardcore regulars didn’t want to come out in this weather. I didn’t blame them but somehow, I was sure of it, James would blame me.
His bar, his rules, and he asked me to keep an eye on it while he was out of town.
“Just a day or two,” I grumbled to myself. “Liam in trouble and James runs. Every. Damn. Time.”
All he wanted me to do was make sure the bar opened and closed on time. Nothing more, nothing less.
Yet here I was pouting like a kid, alone in a cold, empty bar washing down already clean bar-tops. Even the bartenders and the cook called out. Hence me here alone in a howling snowstorm.
I was doing nothing more than making myself cranky and it wasn’t even midnight yet.
Screw this, I thought to myself, we’re closed. Executive decision.
I locked up, shut most of the lights out, looked at the clock and immediately felt guilty.
James would think I was insane for even opening the bar but I gave him my word and my stubbornness wouldn’t let me go back on it, valid reason or not.
And it had absolutely nothing to do with the way his jeans fit perfectly in just the right places.
Or the way his voice made me shiver in places I didn’t even know I had.
Or the way he twisted his one eyebrow when he saw through my feigned disinterest.
I thought I turned the heat down because it couldn’t be my train of thought heating me up.
“Ok,” I said to no-one,”I’ll stay until midnight but I’m keeping the doors locked and….”
I looked around the bar, eyes spying the pool table, deciding to play pool until midnight, leave my car here and walk the few blocks home. I’d even pony up the quarters so I wouldn’t feel so guilty about the shots of Jameson I was about to pour myself.
“In for a penny, in for a pound,” I muttered as I turned on the jukebox and programmed an eclectic selection, starting with some good old fashioned punk music to match my mood and stop my moping.
After throwing three shots in succession down my throat I began to feel a little warmer, wishing I hadn’t worn my favorite blue cashmere sweater. Sure it made my eyes sparkle but right now it was making me sweat.
I walked over to the rack and chose a pool cue, the Jameson doing it’s job as I felt warmth rush through my body. A Nick Cave song came on and I swayed my hips to the beat, slithering to the pool table, racking the balls, ready to channel every bit of stress through that wooden stick. I wasn’t messing around, I was determined to get every damn ball in a pocket without scratching.
I did pretty good the first game, didn’t scratch once. And since that was the only rule I gave myself, I expected my winning streak to continue.
Another few rounds and I began to get bored, but I still had one more ball left on the table.
“Damn it’s hot in here,” I said out loud as I threw back another shot.
I really wasn’t drunk, just comfortably numb and careless. Or was that carefree?
Oh who cared? Whatever it was had me thanking my lucky stars I’d worn a camisole under my sweater because I ripped that sweater right over my head when “Hey Big Spender” came blaring out of the sound system, making sure to swing it around as I swiveled my hips before throwing it over my shoulder, grabbing the pool stick like it was a stripper pole.
I ran my hands up and down it before leaning over the pool table, wiggling for the hell of it and damn if I didn’t scratch.
“Oh no you don’t!” I yelled as I slid across the table, ass in the air as my hand grabbed the cue ball right before it sank into the corner pocket.
“You little cheater,” growled a very familiar voice.
Here and now watching me make an ass of myself. And, kinda cheating.
My ass! In the air!
I hopped off the pool table and nearly fell, especially when I noticed my cherished sweater was now covering part of his head. Shit, how long was he standing there?
I was so fired. And I didn’t even work here.
“James! What are you doing here? I mean I know it’s your bar but aren’t you out of town with your brother and it’s snowing and the bands cancelled and is it hot in here and not one customer came in tonight, can you believe that, but I’m here anyway because you know me, when I give my word you can count on me and everyone called out because of the weather and…cheater?”
I knew I was babbling and should really just shut my mouth but I also knew that wasn’t going to happen because, “cheater??? Did you just call me a cheater???”
He didn’t say anything, just walked closer to where I was leaning against the pool table.
It was kinda hard to read the expression on his face, what with my sweater covering part of it but I swear I could see his lips trying not to twitch.
“Give me that!” I pulled it off his head, figuring I’d try the old turn everything around on him trick.
“First of all,” I began, “don’t sneak up on me like that! I could have killed you by mistake!”
Now I could see his face.
Yeah, he was definitely trying not to laugh so I let that fuel my anger some more.
No way I was going to let him know how embarrassed I was.
Oh man, I was starting to get a headache. Why didn’t I just stick to my usual Gatorade instead of Jameson?
“And I DON’T cheat! I won every game fair and square Mister.” I poked him in the chest for emphasis and immediately had a hard time swallowing when I felt what he’s been hiding underneath his clothes. Why were we avoiding getting involved with each other? At that moment I couldn’t think of one good reason.
He stared me in the eye for what seemed like forever and my mouth was dry. Just my mouth.
“Wanna play?” He drew out those two words like a lovers kiss, his arms on either side of me, pinning me against the pool table.
James and I had been doing this dance for a long time. A very long time.
Life always got in the way.
But right now, in this bubble of time, the two of us locked in here while a blizzard raged outside, I couldn’t think of a single reason why we still never got around to scratching the itch we both had for each other.
“Pool?” I squeaked.
His hands grabbed my hips so quickly I didn’t realize it until I was sitting on the pool table, my legs open and James standing right in the middle of them, pushing me back a little further.
“We’re long past pool pet,” his one hand came up and tangled in my hair, forcing me to look at him. He pulled back just enough to hop up next to me on the pool table, pulling me closer to him, his mouth a breath away from mine. His eyes were dark with the same desire I was sure reflected in mine.
I could fight it as much as I wanted, try to lie to his face and convince him he had no power over me, but my eyes always gave me away.
“We’ve talked about this sweetheart,” his voice alone made me throb. “You know I don’t take this lightly. If you want to play, we play by my rules, and you know what that means.”
His hand was still in my hair, his mouth so close I could practically taste the mixture of nicotine and cinnamon from the gum he’d chewed.
My tongue darted out as I licked my lips, he had to feel the way my body trembled as I whispered two words.
“Do you really?” he asked before catching my lower lip with his teeth.
My tongue slipped into his mouth, desperate to taste him as his hands lowered to my hips, sliding me off the pool table, maneuvering me between his legs. His hands were the only thing keeping me from melting into a puddle right where I stood.
He tasted like manna from Heaven and I was starving.
“You know you’ve got to pay for those shots you’ve been helping yourself to.” I groaned as he pulled his mouth away from mine.
“I-” He didn’t let me finish, instead he flipped me down over his lap, his big hands running over my ass like it belonged to him. I could feel how hard he was through two pairs of denim and tried to finagle my way to the zipper of his jeans when he grabbed my small hands with one of his.
“Wait.” He said.
“Why?” I whined in reply, wiggling against him aching to relieve some of the throbbing threatening to explode any second.
“Because I said so.” And with that a sharp sting vibrated through my body as he smacked my ass.
James just did what no-one else had ever managed to do, he shut me up.
And it felt good.
“Did I just hear the sound of you not talking Lizzie?”
I tried to speak, I swear I did, but all I could do was moan.
“Now by my count, because I’ve been here a lot longer than you noticed, I believe you had four shots. Is that right Lizzie?”
How in the world did he expect me to speak when he had me ass-up over his lap, more turned on then I’d ever thought possible?
“Mmmm-hmmm,” was the best I could do.
James let out a laugh at my inability to talk. It was a running joke between us that I could never stop babbling.
“Oh this is precious,” he said, “I should have done this a long time ago. You really do have a perfect ass ripe for a good spanking, but that’ll have to wait, for now, it’s payback time.”
“Gah…” Nope, still couldn’t speak.
“The question is,” he slowly ran his hand over my ass in ever-widening circles, stopping just short of the part of my body that throbbed the most.
“Do I drag this out slowly?”
I nearly flew off his lap when his hand came down again, harder this time. I was soaked through my panties.
“Or should I get it over with fast?”
Another whack to my ass and I groaned loudly. He was torturing me in the very best of ways.
“How many was that Lizzie?”
“Uh, two?” I lied.
“You know you just earned another one missy.”
I waited for another smack but nothing. The anticipation was driving me crazy. I didn’t even realize he’d let go of my hands until, head hanging down, I saw a pool stick in his hand as he smashed his foot against it, breaking it in half. I couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped my mouth.
“You know Lizzie, it’s a shame we’re not closer to the kitchen, a wooden spoon would do wonders but,” he ran the broken pool stick over my burning cheeks. “We’ll have to improvise this time.”
How was it possible to get any wetter than I already was?
Three more swats, this time with the pool stick and I exploded, long and hard, my entire body on fire, shaking and shuddering.
He threw the pool stick across the room and pulled me up, undressed us both in record time till we were both on the pool table, me on top as he sank me down, filling me completely, a satisfied grin on his face as he watched me come as many times as he smacked my ass.
And then, finally, he let himself go, growling my name as we both went over the edge together.
I had a feeling I was going to need a cooler of Gatorade if I was going to keep up with James.
Authors Note: Lizzie and James are two characters I’ve been playing with for awhile. For purposes of this story, the fact that they are vampires doesn’t matter :D If you want to read more about their ever-evolving relationship, feel free to go there———–>
Also, I will be challenging someone else and adding the information here. Be back soon because I have to post this within the next 34 minutes else I be banished to the corner.
Which I probably will anyway because I forgot to tag Ana
ETA: I have challenged Ana to write 2k words in 24 hours, must haves: a wooden spoon, a pearl necklace and an empty bottle of Chanel No. 5. Go!