Required Word/Phrase - Ingénue (pronounced an-zhuh-noo) - Twice, even!
Forbidden Words - Mirror, Pasta, Doggie, Tutu - Avoided :)
25 bonus words - Share an experience that happened at a performance - passed on this
Extra Credit - Explain where her mother is (25 extra words) - passed on this one, too.
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Yup, it's Friday and time for another of Advizor's naughty Flash Fiction photo prompts! Check out the picture and requirements above, click on the link to his website, read and enjoy the stories, and then return! I'll wait.
All done? Okay!
I struggled with this picture. For some reason, the photo did little for me. Perhaps it's because it looks so static, so staged? I don't know, but I was coming up with some wild stuff. Everything from wax museums to automatons to androids... some of these were headless, even! Still, I persevered and returned to my fangirl roots. For those who've poked around this blog, you might guess the theme of this one before you hit the reveal at the bottom. What can I say? I'm a fangirl!
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La Fleur sat at the vanity, and put the finishing touches
onto her makeup before the night’s festivities. The local theater was decked
out for the annual masquerade ball, with lights and streamers and the crème of
society dressed in their finest. The management established the event to help
raise funds and seek potential patrons. The dancers used it as a way to find a
few patrons of their own. She had her eye on one in particular – a handsome
lord with a horse-faced, shrew of a wife and plenty of funds to provide her
with a trinket or two for her services.
As she swiped some powder across her chin, the lights in the
room flickered, then went out. Cool hands snaked around her waist and raised
her onto her knees on the bench. As the unknown man flipped her starched
crinoline up and over her waist, she fumbled for the lamp and flipped the
switch.
“Am I all that you expected, my precious little ingénue?” His voice
was supernal and she shivered at its beauty. She gazed at his reflection, and
liked all that she saw. Her mysterious patron was dressed for the masquerade in
a flawless tuxedo, with starched white shirt, perfectly tied bowtie, and elegant
tails. A gleaming white mask covered all of his face except his intense amber
eyes and full, kissable lips.
“Am I?” La Fleur countered as he stroked her bare ass. The
dancer never wore undergarments. She found them stifling to her creativity as
well as her purse. More men flocked to her dressing room for the glances she
offered them during the show.
“Indubitably.” She gasped as he plunged his rigid cock to
the hilt without further discourse. His cold hand rested on the small of her
back as he fucked her with savage intensity. “Finish your makeup, little ingénue. You take the
stage soon. I want you to dance to my music with my seed running down your
thighs. I want you to sing my words after you have moaned my name.”
“Your music? Your words?” La Fleur moaned as her body tensed
around his thrusting cock. Like the hand pressed to her lower back, it felt
unusually cool, like a leather dildo after it’s been stored in the icebox. “But
that’s ridiculous!”
“Why is that, my angel?” Her masked lover reached around and
pinched her clit. She hit several impressive notes as she came.
“Because that would make you…” Her eyes widened as he pulled
off his mask to reveal the mangled flesh beneath it.
“The Phantom of the Opera? Why, yes, Christine, it would.” Her
screams masked his shout as he came.