Its Been a long time, I Know

Hey, There,

Yes, I know it has been a while, but In my defense, I have been VERY  busy with living life,  research and yes, Writing. This week and yes I will try to blog more often now at least till December, I’ll tell that in a later post. Anyway, This weeks edition will be on some revisited material, I have been editing and well having a make-over in some cases. Writers write in seasons and at this particular juncture, I had different ideas floating around in the old gray matter. After a while, it’s good to go back and kinda see where your head was. Some things I liked and decided to keep, some was so far removed from where I am today ( not saying I am a Daina Gabaldon, or J.R.Wasrd),  I will have to put in some overtime on some of my earlier pieces. That being said. Here is a blast from the past a piece called Coffee, Tea, or Me. Written in 2008, I shelved this piece of flash fiction and went on to other projects. Going back to the notes on the piece, I saw there were other people who wanted to see a novel or novella come out of this, and yes I’ve done it. Still a work in progress, I will have the final cut (500 words) of this and the chapter of the expanded storyline that puts the two main characters back together again after several years have passed. and without further adieu, here is for Sir With Love and Coffee Tea or me as the prequel

For Sir With Love

and

Coffee Tea or Me

as the prequel.

Saturday, April 3, 2010
Coffee, Tea or Me – Areana Senoj

 

Libby sat in the faculty lounge on the top floor of the Humanities building. Resting her head back against the brick wall, gazing absently out the window, she exhaled. Where most friends she knew couldn’t wait for the final drone of a lecture long forgotten to end before the mass exodus of students leaving campus for Christmas like rats abandoning a sinking ship. Her desire to remain seemed less than normal, but that was Libby.

“Brown-noser,” Brenda, her roommate, had called out to her as she made her way out in the soft downy snow that fell during the night.

A familiar smell seemed to waft over to her now favorite window seat breaking her from her thoughts. It was that mellow apple aroma from the pipe, whose owner she always seemed to miss by only by moments.

Libby scanned the lounge for a clue as to the identity of the man behind the pipe. Suddenly she stopped her search. To her modest delight, stood Professor Taylor, her English teacher. As she was cataloging his many attributes he turned catching her eye and smiled. Mmm, He was adorable and OMG is walking her way! Shit, too late to run now.

“Libby.” his voice made her tingly and her nipples harden instantly.

“Professor, Taylor,” she said shyly, noticing he carried two cups of something in his hand. Setting one down he added,

“Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.”

“I thought you might need a something to warm you up,” he said flashing an incredibly sexy smile.

Other than you? She thought.

He slipped his coffee and set it down.

“I hope you don’t think I do this sort of thing often, but I must be frank.” Libby looked at him.

“I think you are a very beautiful woman Libby, and I can’t let you leave for the semester without telling you.”

“No Professor, I…” her words caught in her throat as he caught her in a blistering kiss that left her clinging to him. She returned his kiss, and he trembled. Looking around he indicated the pantry just behind them.

As soon as the door closed, their clothes hit the floor. His hands and lips were everywhere. He pushed her up against the door, sliding down to his knees; lifting her legs over his shoulders sampling her sweetness, deep within her slickened folds.

Holy shit! She whimpered and ground herself on his knowing mouth. “Oh yeah, I’m gonna come. Oh yes, ooh!” She cried holding him tightly. They dressed in relative silence, tiding up the pantry, eliminating any signs of their early morning “fuck session” and quietly exited the closet. He collected his things and turned to her with a smile.

“See you in class, Libby?” He asked

“Oh yes Professor,” she said breathlessly.

He turned to leave, then added,

“Same time tomorrow, then; For Coffee, tea, or me?” he said with a very salacious grin.

“But of course, Professor.”

The End

That is the short Ill incorporate to the much larger piece now for their reunion

 

 

=5-

Dashing for the elevator, Libby kept pressing the down button. Shit, she couldn’t believe she’d overslept. Panicked, she stared at the illuminated number displayed above that seemed to be dissatisfied with its job and made a show of it by dragging its feet.

 As she tapped her foot she imagined all guardian angels pointing out the virtues of patience. Oh yea, she was defiantly loosing it along with her temper. In her mind’s eye, she honed in on her psychic abilities. Visions ran rampant in her head of Mother-Dearest, Libby edition, trash-talking to the rest of the bridesmaids at the luncheon all about her shortcomings. Shutting down her manic downward spiral,  she vented her anger on the tiny illuminated down button.

“Come on, come on!” she railed at the glowing orb of her frustration, hitting the button like a sailor using morse code—tapping like there was no tomorrow. She growled and gave the brass wall a kick before giving up slipping into the stairwell determined not to be late.

Barreling down, floor after, she finally burst out the door of the first floor, winded, disheveled and nearly ready to pass the fuck out.  Wobbling up to an astonished concierge attendant, she breathily informing him something he probably already knew. Afterall, that is what security systems were designed for.

“…Elevator…stuck…not working,” she said and staggered across the lobby to hail a taxi with all the enthusiasm of one in a hurry to go nowhere, only having to do it quickly.

In the revolving door, she thought of what awaited her and her stomach lurched;  Female bonding time with her mother, Jellie and the rest of her pinched face bitchy bridesmaid buddies from college. yay…. the grimaced. She was soooo stoked to spend the afternoon with them and just think there was a luncheon too. The only exception that made this whole thing bearable, was her cousin, Rosie. It was the only reason she would try to be civil

Sometime later she’d marvel how life, accidents, and destiny always had a way of revolving around each other. Sometimes, they’d  happen over time, coincide like a planetary alinement.  Other times, they happened like a  car crash you just couldn’t avoid. This destiny ditty was the latter.

 She should have been looking both ways, but sure as shit, when you were in the biggest rush, fate ha a way of slowing you down–so was what happened next.

The collision was unavoidable, as Libby dashed out into the pedestrian traffic flow, she went right, the cab she had in her sights rolled on forward. As she pivoted she ran smack into another person going for the same cab.Wham. In a  tumble of arms, legs, and other body parts, both she and wall of muscle sinews and bones, hit, ground with a thud.

  In a totally uncoordinated scramble, they got up. As luck would have it, her purse decided to add insult to injury and vomited its contents all over the sidewalk.  

Not the tampons, not the tampons please God let there not be any. Her mind screamed for her to act.   Bending down, she head-butted the man–wall–SUV.

 “Fuck,“ they bath swore. Libby,  grateful she was closer to the ground, went down on all fours and crawled to snag her cell, billfold and makeup bag. Thank heavens she didn’t have any tampons, cause they assuredly would have been on display on the red, plush carpet in the portico of the hotel’s arches.  How apropos. In a daze,  she watched as hands, a mans hands fluttering like bird wings,  in a rush to gather a pack of tissues and her sunglasses. She stared at the hand offering her something, Ooh shit, yea,  her stuff.  She mumbles a thank you and with all the grace of a drunken sorority girl during rush week, got to her feet.

Bang!  “Damn-it,“  she hissed. Their heads once again made like magnets and connected. Eyes unfocused,  she felt the sidewalk do a tilt-a-whirl, and saw not stars, but teeny– tiny dots, in random patterns in both her line of sight.

She winced, closing her eyes. Oh God, not good, she thought as her eyes still tracked the now colorful orbs, I think I’m going to be sick.  Hands,  those strong hangs,  shot around her–steading her against a very strong hard body.

Libby’s head felt too heavy, and it lulled forward on his chest. God he smelled terrific

“Are you alright,“ his deep voice rumbled in his chest.

“Humm, you smell so nice,“ she replied in a sing-songy lilt, still smelling his bare skin.  Oh, shit, she’d said that out loud,  right? Libby clung to the life preserver on legs what did he ask?

Summoning her strength, she lifted her head to answer in the affirmative, but didn’t get the chance, her world froze in the throat and she stared, unable to believe what she saw–who she saw.

“P-Professor Taylor?” she murmured, just before her legs buckled and she fainted.

* * * *

Taylor Ashcroft simply stared back at the face of his former student. He was dimly aware there were murmurs and curious stares, being thrown in he and Libby’s direction, but right now, he didn’t give a fuck. Scooping her up in his arms, he hustled her into an awaiting cab.

“Is she going to be okay. That was some collision you twoz had..” The cabbie remarked.

Midtown hospital, and hurry, he snapped.

“Yea, sure, sure no problem, the man replied, and floored the bitch out into traffic honking his horn tas he Bogarted in. Taylor gave her hand a pat.

“Libby, Libby are you alright?” Not getting an answer, he flipped out his phone. Maybe David Lennox would be in the ER. His hit up the doctor’s, cell Shit she might have a concussion.

 “Hello Lennox here…” came the reply. Taylor had never one to believe in the power of positive thought, wishful thinking, or just plain luck, but here he was,   defiantly thankful to God, Dave picked up.

 “Hey David, this is Taylor,” he said in the phone on speaker while struggling to hold Libby upright due to the cabbie making like Grand Theft Auto behind the wheel.

“Hey man, how are you” the tinny voice replied. Cutting him off Taylor hastily explained the situation.

“You on call?” he vaguely heard himself ask.

“Um yea, shift just started. Have the driver head in through the ER side, I will tell triage, to come in while I  check her out.“

“Thanks Dave, you’re a lifesaver.”  With that he shifted ending the call and shoving the phone in his pocket. Looking down at Libby, he pressed for a response. “Libby…Libby can you here me?“

“Hey man is she gonna be alright?

Fucking hell could the guy just let him have a minute to see for himself. “Yea, she just took a hit, so can you like watch the road, for Christ’s sake“

“Ahh,  forget about it, I got this, you just hang on and to her too.“

With that, the Mario Andretti wanna-be, punched it radioing to a “friend” in the CPD he had an emergency along with his cab number. Glancing back down Taylor squeezed her hand all but willing her to moan or something “Libby, can you hear me sweetheart?”

What the fuck was he saying? Sweetheart? Fuck it, he didn’t care about that right now. All he was concerned with was her condition. He shuttered as thoughts of a possible concussion or subdural hematoma danced in his head.

As if she heard his silent prayer,  her lids fluttered and she stared right up at him. Those warm honey colored eyes held his gaze as sure as her hand was in his.

“Professor Taylor…”   Not really a question but the way she said his name, low and a little raspy,   rocked him.  Her eyes darted around the cab’s interior, her hands holding onto him tightly.”Wha–what happened? Where am I.”  She made a move to sit up and moaned.

“There now, it’s okay. We bumped heads and well, you took it pretty hard.” Wild eyes glanced around.”I’m taking you to get checked out, you fainted.”

The whatever the emotion was on her face was replaced with a panic.

“No—no I have to be somewhere…at the bridal fitting. a luncheon…”

Taylor’s heart froze, Wedding. He heard himself say from a distance.  ”Wh –who’s?”All the while praying to God, that it not be hers.

“My, sister… oh God..” she groaned.  ”I have to get there, M-mother will be upset,”  she tired again to sit up and blanched.. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Hey–hey not in my cab lady.”

“Look Mack there are some flight bags in the seat pocket, Grab one of those.” “I can’t get yack in my cab,” he groused.

“I can’t get yack in my cab,” he groused.

”Yea, yea, I heard you, you are such a Samaritan, Just drive will you?”

Shoving the opened bag in front of her face, he held on tight while she moaned and yea. Got sick, “Shh, its okay, he said holding her hair out of the way till the heaves subsided.

She moaned her eyes locked on to his and she looked as if she were about to cry. ”I’m so sorry, this is gross and not how… ” her voice trailed off “Bag!” she winced

Taylor was Johnny on the spot with a second front and center. She coughed and moaned and clutched the bag closer, as if afraid of it going everywhere. But nothing happened.

“Hey Mac, we’re here, came the cabbie’s shout. That I’ll be…”

Throwing the man a hundred, Taylor hopped out rounding the back of the cab in a rush, and gathered Libby into his arms. About the time a man in scrubs met them at the sliders. The wheel chair was presented, but Taylor was having none of it. Muscling her inside he barked an order to be taken to  David Winslow MD. At that name drop, all the,   Hey you cant and Hang on there sirs, dried up and he was ushered. in

“Hey,  who’s gonna take the barf bags?” Came the question.

“That’s was what the hundred was for,” Taylor threw over his shoulder leaving the cabbie to look around at the dozen or so hospital staffers, one of whom pointed to the red bio-hazard receptacle to his right.

* * * *

Libby came to with a stinger of a headache. Probably due to the bright ass light shining down on her. Shit, she winced, slamming her eyes again.

“Ahh she lives.“ Came a humored voice somewhere in the ether of a dream.

A masked face popped into her line of vision.“Yes. Doctor,“  she mumbled to the masked figure–masked with another light on his forehead.

 

 

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