writingdirty

Dirty stories by Jack Stratton

Tag: cleavage

Let Go

It started with Jones from accounting. He was called into an office, so routine, and then security came and unplugged his computer. Donna Moore was next, she was some kind of account rep. In a week Baker, Lee and Hernandez were all gone.

They all walked out of that office with same dull numb looks on their face, like they’d seen a ghost.

They took on all of accounting and all of the account reps, cutting roughly a third of their numbers. Though I had some evidence I was safe, you never know.

Katie had been this ever-present force in my office life. Nothing serious, nothing real, just flirting. A passing glance, a little smile, a look that lasted a second too long. We never even really spoke much but she suddenly became my best friend when the trouble started.

She would swing over to my desk when the smokers went out on their breaks. We had the bond of the clean lunged.

I had always noticed her. Tallish, a little broad shouldered and obviously originally from the Midwest. Some of those Midwest girls have a certain build; a little stocky like field hockey players – and they never lose that. She was that type, but with the poise and fashion sense of someone who had lived in Manhattan for a few years. Shoulder length chocolate brown hair that was shiny and smooth, a very expensive cut. She wore designer clothes and had a million shoes. She liked to look good and smell good. Continue reading

Fiction – Rent

I am working on a bunch of stories, but this is the only one that is finished. Thanks to an editor who needs to start blogging!
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Fiction – Halloween

A story inspired by a Halloween costume one friend wore and a fantasy another friend told me about.
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On the Train

Subway intimacies are wonderful little amusements when you are living a life that is amplified. The little accidental meetings of eyes or occidental faux pas. Reading each others newspapers or coming face to face with ample cleavage. The bump and grind of start and stop trains and the forced sardine meetings of strangers. Innocent intimacies must go unacknowledged by most but not to me.

I am helpless to record the ceremonial reactions of the morning after couple in the little two seat bench at the end of the car. She is slightly embarrassed by her somewhat messy hair. He is both proud of himself and sort of straining to get away. Still his hand finds her knee and her eyes close briefly.

The voyeur doesn’t have to stand in the closet or peek through the curtains. Dodging eyes and stolen kisses can be as breathtaking as watching wicked acts.

Writing Prompt – Artist Management

The prompt was: A handsome European classical musician cornering a girl who works in his agent’s office.
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Fiction – The Barista

I’m sort of obsessed by this story. The beginning has been hanging around for a while now. I wrote the ending a while back. I had to sit down and force myself to figure out how to connect the two. With the help of a friend I got it. Let me know what you think.
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