So says Sarah…

oops

Posted in About Me by Sarah Lipoff on 08/25/2011

Leaving the tot to play while taking a shower wasn’t the best idea.

Forgetting that black permanent marker on my desk was a worse idea.

#mess.

 

*This week’s assignment was simple: write a story of your choice. The catch? Write it as a tweet. Use only 140 characters – including spaces.

**Oh, and it’s totally a true story.

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And, next

Posted in About Me by Sarah Lipoff on 08/11/2011

As they eased off the highway she figured this was the moment. Should she put up a fight or what? Was he waiting for her to protest or say something? Because the baby was still sleeping she stayed quiet, not because she didn’t want to wake it and cause a ruckus. No, she wasn’t about to wake a sleeping baby. That’s what her husband told her when she went to fussing about the baby during nap times. He always pulled at her anytime she went near the baby’s room telling her to leave it. Let sleeping dogs lie.

She didn’t really understand what he meant or wanted, but would resist sneaking that quick peak at the baby. She wanted to be able to curl up next to it and sleep like it did.

Really she was just jealous of the baby’s sweet cheeks and blissful ability to gain everyone’s attention with a swat of an eyelash or little fist pump.

The night the baby was made everything was fast and brisk – an afterthought. They weren’t married then, he was still just toying with her and she had figured he was finished with their late night meetings. Really, he hadn’t called in a week or so, and when he showed up, she wasn’t ready for his serious attention. Before she could push him away, everything was finished and she felt soggy and exhausted. As soon as he was out of the room washing her off him, she was grabbing at things, hoping to entice him to stay. She pulled out beers and food and snacks and turned the TV on.

He was out the door before she got her clothes on right.

Her pregnancy caused a glowing sensation she hoped he would get excited about. Instead he snuck her off with that quickie wedding and told her to stop smiling all the time – he was taking care of things already. She used her simple wages to create a little nest egg for the baby. She wanted it to feel accepted and warm and loved.

She wasn’t going to let it down. She had high hopes.

That man’s hand was still resting behind her neck. It sent a pickle along her spin that made her eyes not focus right. She remembered his face as he rapped on her window and then later as he walked her into his car. He could do what he wanted with her, but she wouldn’t allow no pervert stuff with the baby. She’d fight to death on that. Anyone that does stuff like that to kids is really sick. Super sick.

It wasn’t like his hand resting back there really bothered her. In fact, it had been forever since anyone had even touched her – other than the baby. The baby crawled all over her all the time, pulling her hair, putting every bit of her into it like it owned her. No one else offered a simple touch. Just a quick hug, tap on the arm, a genuinely firm handshake would have worked.

A dirt road loomed ahead of her. And just like every horrible gory movie she’d watched through scrunched up eyes, there had to be a run-down house at the end of it with some sort of secret hiding. His hand moved to her damp shoulder. Did she imagine it or did he offer a quick consolatory squeeze? His fingertips grazed her arm as he carefully placed both hands on the wheel while making a sharp turn and heading up a golden hill of grass.

“We’re here,” he said.

*This weeks theme was to write about sex but without writing about the act.

** Here’s the beginning of the story – if you need to catch up… HELP

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Before

Posted in About Me by Sarah Lipoff on 07/07/2011

I’m not going to lie. It wasn’t like this was a big plan or nothing. It all happened quick like a flash, like a beer going down on a perfect summer’s day.

Even though the heat was coming off the pavement, I could tell she was a looker through all that haze. OK, yah, sure, I didn’t see the baby in the back, but I figured this was it – my big chance.

It wasn’t a fancy-smancy car, so I knew she wasn’t packing any spray or repellant or nothing. And from what I could tell, she wasn’t even moving, just sitting there all still-like, kinda like a deer caught in the headlights.

I know all about that.

I’m an expert you could kinda say.

While pulling in behind her I quick checked the double barrel was still behind the seat and snuck a peek in the rear-view. Sure, I hadn’t shaved in a couple-a days and my shirt sure wasn’t clean, but let me tell you, I got balls ready for action. It had been awhile and here was a lady-in-waitin’. Just sittin’ pretty.

Sure, moving down south wasn’t what I had planned. There were all these perky ladies strutting around thinking they were king of the jungle and shit, wearing phones while running, talking to people that weren’t there. Trying to make conversation was like talking to some numbnuts up in the trees. All, “yaaah,” “suuuuuure,” “tooootaly.”

What about getting your pretty ass off the frickin’ phone and taking your stupid bug-ass designer sunglasses away from your face? Some of us like to see what we might be getting into later.

So, looky-looky here. My chance at gettin’ while the getting was sure damn good. No way in hell I was passing this up. Here was MY chance to show how a man can fucking take charge. I glided up behind that yellow pile of shit and prepared to get busy.

The warmth was glowing down deep as I once again double checked that my special sweetheart was behind the seat.

My knees almost left me as I ambled up to her window. Sure, I was sweaty, but after taking a couple deep breaths, I was ready.

This was it.

I rapped on her window and put my face in one of those fake-out Reno 911 looks – you know, goofy but trustable, and hoped she’d lower her window just a couple-a inches so this would work.

The minute we made eye contact, I knew I found a winner. She was all panting and doe-eyed, ready to be put down. Her skin was glistening and green-like. I worried she might pass out, but then she gasped in some air when she saw me check out the baby.

Don’t touch the baby.

I didn’t want that baby.

I wanted her. And I was ready for her right then and there, but while leaning up against that hard and hot side of her car, I snapped out of it and remembered what this was about.

“Hey there missy, ya run outta gas or something?”

It was only the beginning.

*Her side: Help

This week’s prompt was to switch things up, change perspective, and see where things take you. What do you think?

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