Tuesday, January 22, 2013

Iron Chef Erotica

One of the events I participated in at MarsCon this year was called Iron Chef Erotica -- writers who were challenged to write a flash-fic smut story based on a "secret ingredient". Y'all know I love writing promptfics; this seemed like a natural event for me to be in.

The winner is supposed to go on to Balticon to compete against the winners from several other small cons. Since I can't go to Balticon this year, I was originally assigned a judging position, but when a lot of folks had to drop out at the last minute, they brought me back in as a writer.

Good thing, too, as there were even more last-minute dropouts, and it turned out to be just me and Kathryn Lively writing. She won the contest, but it was moderately close, so I feel okay about it. Here's my (very) short and puntastic result:
Prompt word: Bridge

Kristen threw down her cards. "I am not going to understand this game in a million years," she grumbled. "Why can't your mother play something that makes sense, like Monopoly?"

"Would you really want to spend enough time with my mother to play a whole game of Monopoly?" Sean asked.

Kristen sighed. "Bridge it is," she said. "Tell me about no-trump again."

Sean put his own cards on the table. "It may be time for a break," he said.

Kristen knew the look on his face. "What sort of break?"

Sean drew her closer. "I was thinking about fewer spades and more hearts," Sean said, sliding out of his chair and sitting on the edge of the table.

Kristen leaned back in her chair. "I think you're thinking of your club."

Sean knelt between Kristen's legs. Watching her face, he slid his hands along her thighs, pushing her skirt up as he sought the soft, warm skin underneath. Her eyes closed and she purred quietly as his thumbs caressed her.

"No panties?" he said. "Aces."

"If you don't stop with the puns..." Kristen warned.

Sean chuckled. "I'll have to find something else to occupy my mouth, then." He ducked under her rumpled skirt and breathed warmly over her clit, until she let out a moan.

"More," she said.

More it was, the pressure of his tongue firm and rhythmic. Kristen clutched at the arm's of the chair, gasps turning into whimpers that spiraled into a thready keen of climax.

As Sean emerged, she gave him a thin smile. "Now THAT was a trump."

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