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.
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!
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.