Shattered Glass

Picture by saavem on rgbstock.com

My story inspired by this prompt on the Light & Shade challenge.

Every show of indifference, every unkind remark. 

Every act of petty spite causes my heart to cool and harden. 

Violence isn't the only form of domestic abuse.

Cuts and bruises heal, so, in time, do broken bones.

But the heart, once frozen is harder to repair.

The beating centre shrinks and atrophies. 

Eventually even glass will shatter.

Pressure from outside, more unkindness or spite.

When it shatters it means death.

Pressure from inside, the small part still beating.

Fights back when love returns.

A baby grandchild will shatter even a glass heart from within.

To renew love & life.

One swallow does not make a summer.

One swallow does not make a summer.

OK, so I made a mistake, An error of judgement, but come on, I'd just won the biggest order the company had ever received. The Champagne was flowing everyone was euphoric. Suddenly we found ourselves alone.  We were kissing then I sank to my knees and gave him a blow job.
So I repeated the mistake 2 weeks later at the Christmas party! What can I say, I'm a sucker for brown eyes!
It's now May and everywhere I turn, he's there, at my elbow. 
'I love you' he says, 
'No you don't' I reply 'It's lust' 
'I do love you, I want to marry you'
I'm tired of trying to let him down gently.
'You know the saying. One swallow doesn't make a summer?'
'Yes' he replied, puzzled.
'Well two swallows doesn't make a relationship' I snarled as I stalked
off.

With apologies to Kathy Lette I believe I stole this line from one of her books

You pays your money

Linking up with the Light & Shade Challenge.

Here is the quote

You pays your money and you takes your choice

- caption on a Punch cartoon

I heard the bustle of new arrivals from across the room; I was in the kitchen area serving drinks.

I looked across at my co-host, Paul, all 6ft 4 of him dressed in a black & white French  maids outfit and wearing killer stilettos, unlike me, he’d wear the heels for an entire evening, I’d take mine off as soon as I could. 

I was somewhat amazed at the sight of our new arrivals, I know we like people to dress up and have fun, the rules say clothing should be ‘scene appropriate or smart casual’ but a cowboy outfit is not what people usually wear to one of my parties.

Once he’d greeted our new guests Paul called across the room to me ‘Scarlet, honey, could you pour me a vodka & lemonade, I’m parched’ Paul is teetotal, this is our code for ‘We have a problem, we need to talk now’. It was very unusual for us to have any problems, maybe someone would overindulge on alcohol, usually through nerves, but that about as serious as it gets.

I wandered casually over to Paul and passed him a glass of lemonade, ‘What’s up?’

‘Go, introduce yourself to our new guests’ he muttered cryptically ‘You’ll soon find out’

I made my way over towards them, noticing that there was a large space all around them, this was  strange, as the room was quite crowded by now, I also noticed that a few of our more predatory guests had approached them  and then rapidly backed off.

 As I got nearer I realised the problem, I slipped behind the bar, opened the cash box & grabbed a couple of £20. I headed back towards the couple, who were by now bickering heatedly. The closer I got the worse the smell was, I wanted to take a deep breath and hold it, but I needed to talk to them so I needed to breathe.

Plastering on my brightest smile I introduced myself & asked ‘Are you new to the scene’,

‘Not exactly’ replied the cowboy, he smiled at me, showing a mouth full of blackened rotting teeth.‘We’ve met a lot of people but we never get beyond the first meeting’ he said ‘’I blame her, she’s fat, she puts people off’  'They don't want to have sex with us, so we've come to a party' I turned towards his wife, her BO nearly knocked me sideways.’ I don’t think weight is an issue’ I reassured her. ‘Sometimes people gel and sometimes they don’t.’

‘Unfortunately you just aren’t gelling with anyone tonight, so I’m afraid you will have to leave’

‘But we’ve paid our money the cowboy insisted’ 'we’re entitled to have sex with people at the party, we’ve paid our money it's our choice'.

‘Sorry’ I said firmly ‘you may have paid but so has everybody else and it’s their choice not to have sex with you’r At this I returned their payment, plus enough to cover their petrol money and ushered them smartly out the door.

Angel Yard

This is the Light & Shade picture  prompt that made me think of this story

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I sat quietly in the staff room catching up with some marking, I’d done one school patrol and unless I was called, I didn’t need to do another one until next lesson.

The school had failed its last OFSTED inspection in dramatic fashion and I was one of the few survivors from the previous staff who had passed muster with the ‘New Broom team’ brought in to turn things around.

All the solid wood doors in the school had been changed to semi glazed, so whoever was on patrol could see how the class was behaving and if there was any trouble brewing also all the students were now addressed by their title and surname.

Suddenly my radio burbled into life ‘Would the patrol officer please go to Room 1 in the Churchill block’ I picked up my radio and responded ‘On my way’.

Typical, Churchill block was at the farthest end of the site.  I set off, wondering as I went which particular miscreant I would be collecting today. Pupils who were disrupting lessons were removed to what we staff referred to as the ‘Sin Bin’ though its official name was the Quiet room.

The Quiet room was presided over by Mrs Grove, a teacher with many years’ experience who had a real soft spot for some of the more troubled students.

As I approached the Churchill room I could hear singing in amongst the general noise, oh well, at least I knew who I was dealing with. I entered the class room, smiled kindly at Mr Smith, he was an NQT who showed great promise as a teacher, but this particular child would try the patience of a saint.

Both her parents had attended this school, her father Martin had been a bit of a handful who could always be guaranteed to get caught, her mother, Julie, was NBD (nice but daft). Not an ounce of malice or common sense between them.

‘Miss Yarde’ I bellowed, to make myself heard above the ruckus, most of the class quietened down, apart from the main culprit, who had a boy twice her size in a headlock and the boy in the headlock who was screaming like a banshee.

‘Miss Yarde’ I repeated, this time I was closer so she heard me. She grinned, ‘Hello Miss’

‘Miss Yarde please release Mr Walker’

‘But Miss, he was rude to me, I told him I was going to audition for the X Factor an he I sounded like a strangled cat’

I have to admit that I had some sympathy with Mr Walker, like many hopefuls Miss Yarde did seem to feel that volume was more important than talent.

‘I’m sure he’s very sorry now’, ‘aren’t you Mr Walker’ he let out a strangled cry that could have passed as an apology and Miss Yarde released him.

I couldn’t help thinking, as I escorted Miss Yarde to the Sin Bin, that her parents had been wildly optimistic when they had named her Angel!

Veg Box

Linking up with Light & Shade challenge

I looked listlessly at the small box of ‘organic’ vegetables that had just been delivered to my door; it did not look as tasty and delicious as the box had on the leaflet that had been pushed through my door a few weeks ago. But then again the delivery man also didn’t looks as tasty & delicious as the one on the leaflet, my delivery man was pleasant enough, but was a small shrivelled pensioner, a bit like the vegetables that were also shrivelled & elderly. In fact it may have been the appeal of the Brad Pitt lookalike on the leaflet that had tempted me to order a weekly veg box anyway.  Let’s face it neither my husband or my teenage sons eat vegetables except under duress, they pick the carrots out of my beef casserole, scream at the sight of a mushroom , treat broccoli as though it is poisonous & only eat the onions in my cottage pie because the onions are grated & they can’t see them.

I’m not sure whether it was the fantasy of illicit sex with the organic vegetable delivery driver or the fantasy of my family falling with joy on my home cooked healthy meals full of vegetables that made me place the order. Both are equally unlikely, but the illicit sex fantasy is more appealing. I checked the clock on the wall, I had an hour before the family would arrive home. I made a decision, the veg box went in the bin, I took a frozen pizza from the freezer  & I went upstairs to have a luxurious bath & put on my red silk basque & black stockings, the boys wouldn’t notice what I was wearing under my usual clothes, but my husband would & we could have an early night & enjoy some none illicit sex together.

Carpet

I wrote this last week intending to join in with the light & shade challenge by Lyssa Medana & Thomas Marlow, I follow the challenge but this is the first piece I've finished. I should have linked it to their blog, but a) I'm a week late & b) it's an inappropriate subject!

I don’t know what it is used for, though I daresay it would take some rubbing to get it out of the carpet

- Bill Bryson, Mother Tongue, footnote Chapter 10

The rules were quite clear, everyone received a copy of the rules along with the address and directions once they had paid their deposit.
I don't want to sound like Monica from Friends, but some rules, even at a party are necessary, and despite many people assuming that a sex party should have no rules I beg to differ. In fact I think rules are more important at a sex party.
The rules clearly state 'No sexual intercourse downstairs, please use the playrooms upstairs.
This rule is in place for two reasons, firstly so as to ensure that a nervous newbie to the swinging scene isn't going to be scared away on their first visit by being faced with full on fornication whilst enjoying a quiet drink.
Secondly to protect the furniture & carpets in my home.
I surveyed the sticky mess ruefully & thought 'It's going to take some rubbing to get it out of the carpet,.