Flashers by Seneca Mayfair

Diplomacy or Another Day on the North Island
© 2006

Isabelle listens to Bach while drying her pantyhose. From her balcony she sees fishing boats bobbing in Island Bay.

Yesterday in Wellington, a man intercepted her as she rushed from one lover to another. Her cigarette's smoke circled in the wind.

"Smoking isn't good for you," he'd said, his accent crisp and reproving.

"I do it to annoy you," she'd said, her American accent defiant.

He led her to his flat high above the city; and there they made love listening to Mahler. The man's socks hung drying in the window. The winds from the Strait blew cold and hard.

Fuck Alley
© 2002

Shadowed by streetlight, she walks to what she is. Naked beneath a dress of midnight silk, her ass sways and demands touch. Her nipples, hard and begging, crest the neckline's plunge. Against the pavement, satin high heels sound an invitation. She follows a trail of lust to the dark alley where couples fuck against cold brick walls. Screams of nameless passion caress her. A man, lost in shadow, roughly presses her close. Her thighs open. A cock, hungrily swollen, pushes into an aching cunt. She fills her need. She fucks her need. She's the slut of Fuck Alley.

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