Howdy! Today we start a new story, "Two of Hearts." It's a woman's fiction story and different from anything else I've ever written. Sorry that the opening excerpt is so long. It was necessary to include all this to establish who Terry is. Caution: there is bad language and sexual references in this story. If that b bothers you, then stroll on by. 

The word prompt is "cold." Don't forget to hop on over and read all the other fabulous stories. You'll find them HERE. 

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At six a.m., the creature breathing on Terry’s ear shouldhave been his wife, Clare, not their pug, Queenie, placing her cold nose against his temple.  His wife, an early riser, always took the dogon the early morning walk. But he’d put Clare on a plane to Los Angeles the daybefore. Terry grumbled as he pulled on sweats, slipped on a wind breaker, andharnessed the pooch.

“Whatthe fuck, Queenie? Why do you have to go out so God damn early, anyway?”

Heshuffled down the hall to the elevator, dog prancing alongside. His wifeoccupied his thoughts. An acquaintance got her into some dumbass west coast script-writinginternship program. Exactly what would she’d be doing there? He had no clue. Ridingdown to the lobby, Terry recalled his conversation over dinner with Clare.

“Aren’tyou a little old for an internship?” He’d asked, refilling their wine glasses.

“It’snot for neophytes. Only for experienced writers.”

“Oh.” Henodded.

“This isa once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for me to break into the movies.”

“Isn’tthat a bit cliched?”

“Veryfunny.”

“Sorry.”

They’d polishedoff the bottle, then Clare had led him to the bedroom and seduced him. Hechuckled to himself --not like it was difficult.  After great sex, Terry couldn’t deny heranything. She used lovemaking to get her way, but he didn’t care. He loved Clarewith all his heart.

“Howlong is this deal?” He’d asked, lying next to her.

“Sixmonths. That’s all. It’ll pass quickly.”

“Andyour freelancing?”

“Sarahsaid I could take a leave of absence.”

“Andyour job’ll be there when you get back?”

“That’swhat she said. We live on what you make anyway. My dippy shit little salary won’t bemissed.”

“It’snot the money. I’ll miss you.”

“You cancome on weekends. Please, Terry? I may never get another chance.”

With thepleasure from release still floating through his veins, he hadn’t been thinkingclearly. Sure, he’d fly out there at least once a month, catch up on theirlives and screw their brains out. If he made love to her eight times over threedays, that would average out, over a month, to twice a week –more than someguys got. It was only for six months, right? Easy peasy, he’d thought.Obviously he’d gone brain dead.  

“You’llhave Queenie,” Clare had said.

Hearing hername, the animal had jumped up on the bed. After breathing in his face, she circled,nudging her way between them, and plopped down, resting her chin on Clare’sleg. He admitted Queenie had wrapped her little self around his heart, but shewas no substitute for his wife.

“Okay.Six months. Only six months. Then you come home, right?”

“Right.Thank you. I love you madly, truly, dearly,” she’d said and slid down his body,arousing him once more.  

Once hismind worked again, he’d spent the next month looking for ways to back out ofthe deal. But he’d never seen Clare happier. She sang in the morning, initiatedlovemaking every night, and created mouth-watering dinners. How could hedestroy her hopes?

Did hebelieve she’d have a dazzling career as a scriptwriter? He doubted one coursewould turn her into Steven Spielberg, but kept his misgivings to himself. 

Thefirst time the alarm went off at six instead of seven, he regretted hisdecision. Six months of getting up early, six months of walking the damn dogbefore he’d had his second cup of coffee, and six months of no sex –what thefuck had he been thinking?

That's it. Thanks for stopping by.