I'm supposed to say something about my story Bennie. So I'll tell you my favorite tidbit about this particular story. It was the impossible story. When I first talked to Sacchi and read the call for this book I thought...no way. I don't think I can write something for this particular book. My first instinct was that I didn't grasp the theme well enough and as a writer you always want to do your topic justice. Always. I even told Sacchi that. She was gracious and understood. So...that was that.
But see, it wasn't. The moment I said I didn't think I could, this story started whispering in my head. After a day of that, I think I sent Sacchi an email and said..."Well...maybe..."
The next day the story was shouting in my head and I sat down and wrote the whole damn thing in one sitting. I think I turned it in a few days later after a spit and polish, so to speak. That's what makes Bennie a favorite story of mine--it shouldn't exist, and yet it does. I said no, and something in my mind said, actually yes. Those kinds of stories are gold for me personally. They make being writer fun and exciting. They're the best kind of writing adventure. The ones you'd never think you could write that then immediately demand to be created.
The full tour link list is below. Go back, go forward, time travel, be a timelord! ;) Happy Hump Day, ya'll.
I watched Bennie the way I did every morning. Stomping out of her house in her big work boots. She walked like she had a vendetta against the world and the way she carried herself never failed to turn me on. She clutched a to-go mug of coffee and rooted in her deep pockets for her car keys. Every morning she did this and every morning I enjoyed the ritual.
I sat inside my apartment, watching her as I drank from my Snoopy mug. My computer whirred gently and my freelance work waited and yet…I watched her.
I had this fantasy, had had it for ages, where she’d stalk over here instead of to her car. She’d rap on the door hard enough to make me jump instead of root for her keys. She’d ask me out on a date instead of driving off to work.
It had yet to happen. Would probably never happen. But I had the fantasy anyway. It went on from there. Her coming to pick me up for said date in her black fitted trousers and her leather vest. The one she only wore to special events. Semi-casual, she’d once laughed when I complimented her on it. I’d been getting the mail, she’d been heading out for the night.
I’d blushed as if I’d asked her to drop to her knees and go down on me instead of complimenting her outfit. It had taken everything in me to do it and yet I’d forced myself. Then I’d watched her pull away in her ’66 Mustang coupe—white to her almost consistently black ensembles. After she’d gone, I’d damn near staggered into the house, dropped to the sofa, shoved my hand into my panties and gotten myself off, not once, but twice. Just remembering her clear blue eyes on me and the way she’d laughed.
It made me want to kiss her, that laugh. It made me want to fuck.
I’d let the curtain drop so when the doorbell rang I damn near swallowed my own tongue. A peek through the window showed me Bennie and I found my feet had disappeared on me. I couldn’t feel them at all. Nor my lips. My face was on its way to being numb as well, but I forced my hands to work the lock and then turn the door knob.
“Hey, hi,” I stammered. “What’s up, Bennie?”
She had no idea. She was clueless. She didn’t know that as we stood there I was wet inside my panties, frantic and nervous inside my stomach.
“Car,” she growled. “Won’t start. And…” she patted her pocket and a clicking sound arose. “Phone’s dead. You’d think I would remember to charge it, right? I have no home line.” She stared at me.
And? And? My mind scrambled for words. Finally, she did that little half smile thing of hers that always made me want to drop to my knees and beg her to notice me. She ran a hand through her close cropped dark hair and said, “So…Ava…”
“Yes?” Damn if I didn’t sound breathless. It was mortifying.
“Can I use your phone to call a tow?”
My heart kicked in my chest, hard. I realized my stupidity. How silly I must have looked. “Of course!” I chirped. “I’m so sorry. Clearly I need more coffee.” I was babbling as I hurried to the kitchen to grab the portable home line. My cell was dead too, so that made us two for two in the dead cell department.
When I turned she had come in right behind me. Standing so close to me, I could see the green striations around the pupil in her blue eyes. I could smell some sandalwood scent on her skin and the clean generic smell of shampoo and soap. I could see up close what those lips looked like in that little twist of a half-smile.
She took the phone from me and her fingers brushed my hand. I jolted and then tittered nervously when she noticed.
“I didn’t hear you come,” I said. Then caught my words and had enough presence of mind to feel my cheeks flame red in an instant.
“Oh, you would.” She laughed. “Thanks.”
Me and My Boi Blog Tour Links
June 12—Sacchi Green— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 13—Annabeth Leong-- http://annabethleong.blogspot.com/2016/06/me-and-my-boi-not-just-hair.html
June 14—Anna Watson— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 15—Sinclair Sexsmith-- www.sugarbutch.net
June 16—Jove Belle-- https://jovebelle.com/
June 17—Tamsin Flowers-- www.tamsinflowers.com
June 18—Victoria Villasenor— https://breywillows.com
June 19—J, Caladine—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 20—Victoria Janssen-- http://victoriajanssen.com
June 21—Dena Hankins-- http://denahankins.net/my-summer-of-boi/
June 22—D. Orchid—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 23—Pavini Moray-- https://emancipatingsexuality.com/
June 24—Melissa Mayhew—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 25—Jen Cross— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 26—Kyle Jones-- www.butchtastic.net
June 27—Gigi Frost--www.facebook.com/gigifrostwww.facebook.com/gigifrost
June 28—Aimee Hermann— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 29—Sommer Marsden—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
June 30—Axa Lee—www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com
July 1— Kathleen Bradean— www.sacchi-green.blogspot.com