Quickie

Quickie
But perhaps not quickly forgotten.

“Can I call you sometime?”

She just smiled as though he was a little pet performing a trick, and slipped back into her dress, which cascaded down her body like a black waterfall.

“Well, can I?” he asked again as he zipped up his pants.

Still no answer.

“What’s your name?”

“Little one, what do you think happened here?”

“Well, I was trying to reach the hors d’œuvre tray, and when no one was looking you invited me here-”

“I think I just grabbed ya.”

“Well, yes. You… nudged me into this room.”

“I picked you up and didn’t bother to remove your shirt.” She had finished smoothing out her hair, which had fallen in fetching disarray not ten minutes before. His neck began to pinch painfully and he stopped staring up at her. His heart sank.

“I take it this was just a one-time thing then.”

“Now you are catching on,” she said, and smiled again as she winked. She didn’t look back before she left the room to rejoin the party, her high heels echoing in the hallway and matching the pounding in his chest as they melted into music and chatter.

Alone in the room, he stared at the moving arms on his Mickey Mouse watch, knowing he had to wait a couple of minutes before following her.

I don’t think so, he thought as he waited. I bet I can make you come back for more.

* * *

No, I’m not watching the Superbowl thingie. I had two choices: Watch the Superbowl thingie, or work. Naturally, I chose to blog.

I found the background for this image nearly two years ago, and finally matched it with a little guy when I searched the gallery of a photographer that specializes in Spanish soap opera (telenovela) actor portfolios.

I don’t know why, but his male subjects are often looking up, or adopting defensive or fearful poses, while his female subjects can be found sprawled on the floor looking at no place in particular where I can easily insert* a little guy. Imagine how excellent I think that is for my perverted collaging purposes.

*Oh, stop. Not that kind of insertion.

As always, while I collaged those two kept chatting it up in the manner described above, so I thought I’d share it. OK, back to the coal mines.

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9 thoughts on “Quickie

  1. Hi trinket, and thank you!

    I played with the shrunken guy’s position until I had him where I wanted him, so I could try that exact perspective. It also seemed best suited for the focus of his gaze, which I didn’t alter as I usually do when I’m going for a certain kind of eye contact.

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  2. You are truly gifted, Undersquid. Kooky and entertaining, soulful and witty. Your collaging is only surpassed by your writing. Bravo, and keep up the good work.

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  3. Thank you, Freak Boy! I enjoy both collaging and writing, the latter a bit more than the former, so it’s inevitable that both activities find their way to nearly every blog entry.

    I have less time for my blog these days, but as often as I can I will try to keep up the good work. 🙂

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  4. Aw… that’s heartbreaking. I mean, maybe a quickie isn’t the best way to start a meaningful relationship, but… it’s an indicator of interest.

    Or so he thought. She just had a whim in her head and no concept of respecting him, so she grabbed him and used him, and discarded him when her needs were met…

    I need to make some coffee or go walk around in the sunshine or something…

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    • No, no. Not heartbreaking. You see, he may feel discarded in the beginning, but he’s no ordinary little guy. He’s not giving up. Her lingering scent hasn’t even begun to dissipate in that room, and he’s already plotting his way back into her life. It ends with his thinking, “I bet I can make you come back for more“, and that’s exactly what will happen.

      Hopeful.

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      • I noticed that… I wondered how he could swing it. It’s not like he could just kind of nonchalantly wander in front of her and shake his little tuchus seductively, proffering seconds of the forbidden fruit. Would he just have loud and engaging conversations with prominent luminaries within her earshot? Or is this a long con, and he’s going to find out where she gets her triple venti soy no-foam latte, ingratiate himself to the executive director of her department, then just bump into her at a Redbox and pretend he doesn’t know her?

        But what’s going on in her mind? Maybe she doesn’t even have a ‘hing for tiny men: she just wants to try anything novel, and try everything once. How can he hook a woman who’s committed to noncommitment?

        You’re writing this, right? You’re writing this up as we speak?

        Liked by 1 person

        • Those are good ideas, but he’s thinking on a much larger scale, which is wonderful, for such a tiny little brain. And no, I’m not writing anything on it right now, but it’s an idea that’s danced in my head for a long time. I’ll get to it someday.

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