Saturday, October 2, 2010

Because Halloween is coming...

and it is one of my favoritest of holidays, I'm putting up a small snippet of Smoking Hot which takes place at a Halloween Party. A hot, dangerous, crazy Halloween party. Happy Saturday! I now have to go wake up the offspring. I have my helmet and my protective gear on...

The third person who hit the middle of the staircase lived that nightmare. A hand made of black smoke and pure intent snagged that girl—a little blonde dressed as a cheerleader for our Halloween festivities—and yanked. I watched her fight like hell, but she was pulled through the narrow space of the stairs in no time at all. Not pretty. Trust me.

“Move,” Sean said in my ear and started the policeman shuffle. He hustled me off to the left, to what appeared to be another door as the swell and crush of bodies parted and folks started making their way for other exits or offshoots of the basement.

He pushed me into a narrow nook that held the boiler. Thank god it wasn’t cold enough for the boiler to be used yet, or it would have been a tad toasty in there.

“Oh my holy shit, what the fuck was that?” I was babbling. I thumbed my cell phone and the screen said out of range…out of range.

“Don’t know, but it looked like smoke. So—“ He was glancing around wildly.

“So? So! So what? You can’t just say that and then leave me hanging here, Sean. My cell won’t work!” I squeaked.

“Van!” he barked.

“Shut up and look for rags. Sheets. Carpets. Anything like that. I don’t think any cells are working. Mine’s totally dead. Now move!”

“No need to be rude,” I grumbled, but did as I was told and found a huge pile of shop rags in one corner. There was more screaming coming from outside the door and I winced. I started shoving rags under the door crack just as a black feeler of smoke snaked in. Sean shoved a rug over it and pushed it into the crevice. Thankfully that one tendril snaked back out and was gone.

“You okay?” he asked, taking me by the upper arm.

“I’m having a stroke,” I said very calmly. My heart pounded so hard I felt ill. My hands shook as I pulled the ends of my long dark hair to try to focus myself. Yank, yank, yank. The sharp bites of pain kept me from melting down but at this rate, I’d be bald before we were free.

He tilted my head back and studied my face. I feared flawed makeup, tears, twitches…boogers. God, I feared boogers. “You’re not having a stroke,” he said and leaned in to kiss me. I took that kiss like a drowning woman takes a life raft. “You’re just scared, girl.”

“Stroke,” I muttered, but I pushed my hands into that unruly surfer-boy hair and yanked so that he retaliated by biting my bottom lip.

“Nope. Just fear.” He pushed his hand into my jeans and I let him. He shoved his warm fingers into my panties, and I moved forward to help him. He buried his fingers inside me and I sighed. “See, fear. You’re so wet.”

“Heart attack, maybe?” I countered. His mouth tasted like summer fruit and handsome man.

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