First, let me apologize for the flash fiction that appears below. I have no words to express how deeply sorry I am that you may actually read it. Consider yourself warned. It is not just not safe for work, it is pretty much not safe for consumption period. (I had my husband read it, and he instantly grew a gray streak. He won’t look me in the eyes any more. I’m so sorry David.)

That said, it’s for a contest, so you can all go there and blame Chuck Wendig. So without further ado, I give you,

I Wanna Do Laser: A Flash Erotica

By Filamena Young

He was a hairless gorilla, frankly. A Neanderthal who shaved is chest and plucked his eyebrow. Women said they found him attractive because he was athletic but ‘clean cut.’ Really American.

I knew better. Women found him attractive because on some level, most of us want to be fucked by a caveman at least once in our lives.

It was a tradition at this point, I’d wait outside the locker room to try to get an interview or a post ‘game’ wrap up.

(This was not my idea of journalism, mind you, but it was a paying job and there was no serious work for pretty young journalists right out of school, so you take what you can get. I’d report on the injustices in Gaza and the poverty of Haiti when I could afford the shots to travel and maybe get myself one of those really good digital video cameras. Independent, fierce, in-demand and passionate, that would be me.)

Instead, I’m getting paid to pretend to be a sports journalist and wait for ‘the scoop’ outside of the men’s locker room. He passes me and smiles without looking me in the eyes, it’s tradition, you see, he won’t acknowledge that I’m there until after he’s had a shower. ‘I’ve got to cool down afterwards,’ he’s told me in a candid moment last month, ‘for your sake.’

But today it was different, he passed by and smiled without looking, but I felt his hand pass like a ghost past my shoulder, flicking my hair so that it fell back and away down my back; like he wanted to expose my neck. He was already headed into the locker room, but I watched his meaty shoulders rise and fall as if he were taking in a tremendous breath.

I talked to the rest of his teammates. They were thrilled to talk, still jammed from their matches of the day. I made it quick, eager to get rid of them so I could get out of there, get away. Like I needed to get away before he finished his ‘cool down,’ though to this day I couldn’t tell you why I felt that creeping sense of panic.

When I was done getting my quotes for the show’s producers tomorrow, I turned to leave, and got three hurried steps down the hallway before I felt a weight on my shoulder like a bear paw. I turned, sharply, and found myself face to face with him.

“Jim, what are you doing?” We’d been friendly, conversational, but he’d never gotten this close, he was in my personal space, toe to toe with me, and breathing down into my face. I couldn’t look past his eyes, wild and unabashedly intense.

“You’re a good girl, Tracy; a nice girl who wants to do big things someday. I like that about you. That’s why I’ve been trying so hard to ignore it, ignore the thing you want between us. I don’t want to ruin your life.” There was sadness there, too, behind the intensity, like a force of nature with a conscience. “But I can’t ignore it anymore, the way you smell.” He took in another deep breath and cupped my shoulder. “I can’t ignore your desire.” He tilted his head to the side and leaned in as if he was going to kiss me, but instead nuzzled his face into my neck and shoulder. His other hand slipped behind me and lifted me. He pressed me, off the ground, into the wall supported by his one thick arm.

“Jim,” I asked again, “what are you doing? This is… I don’t even like you. You’re a meat head.” I put hands on his shoulders and managed at least to get him to move back enough to look him in the eyes, even if I was still held up against the wall.

He searched my eyes; they were different tonight, not just in intensity but also in color. Golden, luminous, and catching the cold florescent light so that his eyes seemed to glow. “I think you know I’m more than that. I don’t know if you know it in your conscious mind, but I think you know in that repressed brain stem of yours just exactly what I really am.”

Visions of ancient woods, of strong-bodied wolves hunting and howling, eating and fucking passed through my mind’s eye, and I felt his arms tighten around me. I mouthed ‘werewolf’ but could not say it aloud.

He nodded once. “I don’t want to do it, Tracy, but neither of us can escape fate. Maybe, instead, we can just try and… enjoy the ride?” Without ceremony, he dropped his after-show sweatpants to the ground and I could feel the solid force of his erection against my thigh. Apparently, it wasn’t steroids that made him so muscular. I grinned without meaning to.

“What do you want me to say? Jim? You say this is fate? I think you’re a creep, but you just,” I breathed in and felt a rush of endorphins. “You just smell so good.”

He nodded in understanding, using his free hand to push up my skirt and toy with, before simply pushing my panties aside. “Just say it.”

“Say what?” I tried to stare him down, give him the full brunt of my disgust for him, but it was a lie. I knew what he knew; I could smell destiny and sweat mixed together in his skin.

“You know what to say.” He grinned, all teeth, and pushed my knees apart.

I did. “Damnit. I wanna to do Laser!” I tossed my head back into the wall as he forced himself up into me, grunted, and dug his teeth into my throat.

-Fin