Where did all the time go????
Jan. 1st, 2007 11:28 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lukon_ideinOkay, so I've been having a great time back east, seeing relatives, friends, relatives of friends, and, of course, attending my best friend's wedding. So great for me, but not so great for my writing. Sigh. I just needed to write one measly story by New Year's - and did I get it done? NO!!! I suck. But one of the reasons it's not done, is that it looks like it needs to be a trifle long - which is cool because my not-so-secret New Year's Santa wrote TWO for me. (No guilt there!) It does look like I will have some decent amounts of free time on the 3rd and 4th, so I am hoping it will be done by the end of this week (assuming a certain sassy long-haired muse is willing to grant me an audience.) So in the meantime, ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dentelle_noir, here's a small teaser to whet your appetite (and to prove that yes, Virginia, there is a story in the works!). Many apologies for the delay! Happy New Year, anyway!!
Excerpt from upcoming story involving the prompt "party crashers":
“Hello, Viv.” It was a good sign that she was looking at his eyes and not lower down.
“What on earth is she wearing?” came Wufei’s voice in his ear. It was a bad sign that Wufei was sufficiently distracted to ask questions he knew Trowa couldn’t answer. The organizers of the event had had the brilliant, last-minute inspiration to dress the wait staff as Egyptian servants. Joy. Viv was in a strapless shift of white linen that ended just above her knees, hugged every curve it could find, spotlighted her generous cleavage and was slit nearly up to her hips. Historical accuracy was apparently not their watchword. Trowa himself was stuck in a white linen kilt that barely made it to mid-thigh, faux bronze armbands snug around the top of his biceps, and the aforementioned collar of fake turquoise, onyx and ivory. Most irritating of all was the gold lamé thong, which itched more than supported, and which he would be hiding in Duo’s locker as soon as he got back to Preventers HQ. Viv didn’t appear to have any undergarments at all. Both of them sported black shoulder-length wigs, hers topped with a small strand of beads. Neither of them looked forward to an entire evening of lugging heavy trays of dishes back and forth in bare feet.
“Still the same old Terry underneath, I see,” Viv continued, unaware of Trowa’s extra audio input. “Don’t you ever lighten up?”
“No.” Viv laughed and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him toward the kitchen. She was a vivacious young girl struggling to make it in Sanq’s theater scene while making rent money by waiting tables. For some reason she had been drawn to the taciturn New Guy as soon as he arrived two months ago and had been trying to “draw him out of his shell” ever since. Quatre had once threatened to send her a video of him bringing Trowa to a screaming orgasm “to show her how it’s done.”
“Do I even want to know what you’re wearing?” Wufei asked disapprovingly. Trowa discreetly coughed once as the swinging door of the kitchen smacked him in the ass after entering. It was to be the first of many assaults to that part of his anatomy during the course of the evening.
dentelle_noir, here's a small teaser to whet your appetite (and to prove that yes, Virginia, there is a story in the works!). Many apologies for the delay! Happy New Year, anyway!!Excerpt from upcoming story involving the prompt "party crashers":
“Hello, Viv.” It was a good sign that she was looking at his eyes and not lower down.
“What on earth is she wearing?” came Wufei’s voice in his ear. It was a bad sign that Wufei was sufficiently distracted to ask questions he knew Trowa couldn’t answer. The organizers of the event had had the brilliant, last-minute inspiration to dress the wait staff as Egyptian servants. Joy. Viv was in a strapless shift of white linen that ended just above her knees, hugged every curve it could find, spotlighted her generous cleavage and was slit nearly up to her hips. Historical accuracy was apparently not their watchword. Trowa himself was stuck in a white linen kilt that barely made it to mid-thigh, faux bronze armbands snug around the top of his biceps, and the aforementioned collar of fake turquoise, onyx and ivory. Most irritating of all was the gold lamé thong, which itched more than supported, and which he would be hiding in Duo’s locker as soon as he got back to Preventers HQ. Viv didn’t appear to have any undergarments at all. Both of them sported black shoulder-length wigs, hers topped with a small strand of beads. Neither of them looked forward to an entire evening of lugging heavy trays of dishes back and forth in bare feet.
“Still the same old Terry underneath, I see,” Viv continued, unaware of Trowa’s extra audio input. “Don’t you ever lighten up?”
“No.” Viv laughed and grabbed him by the arm, hauling him toward the kitchen. She was a vivacious young girl struggling to make it in Sanq’s theater scene while making rent money by waiting tables. For some reason she had been drawn to the taciturn New Guy as soon as he arrived two months ago and had been trying to “draw him out of his shell” ever since. Quatre had once threatened to send her a video of him bringing Trowa to a screaming orgasm “to show her how it’s done.”
“Do I even want to know what you’re wearing?” Wufei asked disapprovingly. Trowa discreetly coughed once as the swinging door of the kitchen smacked him in the ass after entering. It was to be the first of many assaults to that part of his anatomy during the course of the evening.
