eHarmony in the Time of Dysentery

January 3, 2012 at 9:20 PM | Posted in Fiction | 4 Comments
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Chuck’s flash fiction challenge this was another subgenre mash-up. I really like these, because I get to explore other kinds of writing. This week, we had to choose any two from this list: Dystopian Sci-Fi, Cozy Mysteries, Slasher or Serial Killer, Lost World, Spy Fiction, and Bodice Ripper. So if I tell you the two I chose, from that and other clues I expect you to be able to figure out the identity of the good doctor.
I chose Serial Killer and Bodice Ripper. The two really just go hand in hand.
To see more catch a horse and buggy and ride on over here:
Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge: Revenge of the Sub-Genre Mash-up

Anne-Marie first met the dashing young doctor at her aunt’s garden party.  Initially she felt ambivalent about attending—
Until she met him.  Anne-Marie felt a strange stirring in her loins, and she felt the heat rise to her bosom.  She felt her cheeks flush, and dared not make eye contact.
The medical man noticed her symptoms straight away, and took pity on the young thing.  “Good evening to you, Madam.”  His dark eyes gazed forcefully at her, taking her in.  She flushed more when he said, “You look stunningly beautiful this evening.”
At once he was close to her, taking in her perfumed scent and her warmth.  Ann-Marie could sense his animal lust, barely concealed beneath the silk shirt and wool vest that kept him civilized.  Were it not for the crowd, she thought, I would mount him this moment—
As if reading her thoughts, the doctor offered her a gloved hand.  “Take a walk with me,” he ordered.  He didn’t ask, he just ordered.  His hot breath sent a cool chill down her neck as she crossed in front of him, acquiescing to his gentle demand.
“Wherewith would you take me, sir?”
“For a carriage ride, I think.”  They were at his coach, just beyond the walls of the garden.
“But sir,” she purred at him, “you could take me most anywhere.”
“I intend to.”  He gave her a hand up, steadying her by holding her thin, corseted waist.   He told his driver, “Head over to Whitechapel, my good man,” before entering the coupe himself.
Anne-Marie said, “Whitechapel?  That’s not the best part of town, is it?”
The doctor brushed it off as he sat close with his arm around her, immediately touching her lightly in exactly the right place.  “It’s the perfect place for an adventure, my dear.  And it’s on the way to my office.”
Thusly placated, Anne-Marie looked into his dark, hypnotic eyes.  “I-I’ve never…I don’t do this sort of thing, you know.  I don’t go off with just any man.  I’m not a Pinchcock, I’ll have you know.”
The doctor was deftly maneuvering through her layers of clothing to get to her commodity.  “Of course not, my dear.  I don’t associate with those types.”  He reached her mound and delicately caressed it with a gloved hand, eliciting a gasp from Ann-Marie.  “Aye, but I bet you’re a bit of a bobtail, aren’t you?”
Breathily, desperate for his pulsating member, she reached for his trousers.  The doctor drew back.  “Aye, now’s not the time, love.  Plenty for that later.  Just enjoy the ride for now.”  He held her and kissed her neck whilst he fingered her cock alley.   Anne-Marie was breathing hard and fast and nearly there when the coach stopped.
A voice from above said, “Aye, sir, here are, then.”  Quickly, Anne-Marie worked to regain her composure.    After he helped her out, the handsome, mysterious doctor sent his driver off for the evening.
Shunting herself against the cold evening, and noticing an absence of streetlamps, Anne-Marie turned to hold herself against his hard, broad shoulders.  “Are we far?  From your office?  Can we go there?  I dislike this lowly part of town, it’s unsavory.”
He turned to her, and his dark eyes seemed cold, penetrating.  “Really?”  He grabbed her roughly and pushed her against the wall in an alley.  “You seemed fine moments ago, when you were ready to salivate on my willy.  Weren’t you?”  He shook her at the last statement.
Anne-Marie felt as if she had been slapped.  “What?  How dare you—No.  I am a lady, good sir.  I would never—“
“Well, that’s not what I heard, milady.”  A devious grin fell upon his face as he sneered the last word, and began roughly feeling her body.  “I have it on good authority that you’d just as soon take three cocks at once.”
The heat and the sensual desire began to drain from Anne-Marie like a thick pudding into a rain barrel.  The realization slowly came to her that she was in trouble.  This was not a date.  This was not brazen illicit sex.  This was probably going to be a murder.
Trying to regain some control, and find a way to parlay, she put her hands on his chest tenderly, but it was unyielding.  “Pl-please, kind sir.  There’s no need for anything rash.  I can make you feel good, I can.”  Trembling, she put her head on his chest and held him, trying to get him to yield, to soften.
Or to harden, she thought.  If I can get my hands on his lobcock, I can make him forget everything except my lips.
Her hands moved to the buttons of his trousers.  He seemed to relax, and Anne-Marie made the barest motion of moving downward to open them.  When she did, the doctor violently grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and threw her back against the other wall.  “There’ll be none of that!” he hissed at her.  “I knew it.  I knew you were just like the others.  All you want is a man’s private business.  Well, ye not be getting mine.  Not today!”
With that, the doctor began to unbutton his pants and open his breeches.  To her horror, Anne-Marie saw that the doctor had neither willy nor bullocks.  Instead was a scarred, horrible mass of flesh.  She was in shock as he fastened his trousers back.
Shock was replaced with fear he pulled out a surgical knife, which shined in the dim light from blocks away.  “Please, sir—please—“
Anne-Marie now begged for her life, and horrified that she could no longer curry favor with her sex.  Maybe she can buy some time.
“Please, sir—I would—don’t kill me.  Don’t kill me without telling me your name.”
The doctor paused briefly, and considered this odd statement.  He shrugged.  “My name is Jack.”
Jack then ripped Anne-Marie’s bodice from her.  It made the next step easier.



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  1. Winning! And being a southern girl myself, I know the yanks will come runnin’ when the aliens come. 🙂

    Awesome story, btw! Thanks for sharing.

  2. GenX – great story.
    “Were it not for the crowd, I would mount him this moment.” made me guffaw, a guffaw, I should say, that was sorely needed on this cold, cold, day.

  3. Too bad it went bad. I was enjoying the bodice romp. I think you have a flair for it.
    You could write hot romances under a girlish pseudonym. I’d read them. : )

  4. The bodice ripping is classic!

    Poor saucy Jack. That man has been set up for a lot of bad doings this last century.

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