as promised: untitled novel attempt

[crazy a]

1.
He was a dishwasher. He worked in a mom-and-pop diner and he was the dishwasher. Sometimes when it got very busy, during lunch hours and on weekends, he helped with the cooking. Usually he would handle the simpler orders so the cook wouldn't be too overwhelmed by the crowds. Then, after things calmed down a bit, he would return to the sinks, return to his mountains of china and glass and his beds of silverware.

There were two large deep metal sinks. One was filled with hot soapy water which he only changed when it became too dirty and greasy. The other sink contained only hot water which he changed when it became too soapy. He wore thick black rubber gloves and a black apron of strong plastic that covered him from his chest to his knees. The top of the apron would rub at his throat while his head was bent. As a result, he always had a reddish line across the base of his throat as though someone had unsuccessfully tried to strangle him with a cord. The rubber gloves went up almost to his elbows. They protected his skin, but the heat from the dishwater seeped through the rubber to his hands. Sometimes if he went too fast with the washing or reached too far down into the sink, the water would run into the gloves' openings and down to his fingers. Then he'd have to take off the gloves and shake out the water, his hands red from the heat. Then he'd put them back on and resume washing.

His name was Randall and he was a dishwasher.

It was during one of these busy spells that Randall saw her. He had put a plate containing a cheeseburger and fries in the pick-up window when he saw her sitting alone at a table for two. Her hair was long and brown, her skin tanned. She wore a dress with blue flowers printed all over it. On her feet were simple leather sandals.

How long he stood there, drinking in her beauty, Randall couldn't say. Seconds, a minute, an eternity. It didn't matter, they were all the same. What did matter was that he, Randall, a lowly dishwasher in a small eatery, was a few feet, a few quick strides away from the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in this greasy little diner.

There was a clatter behind him and he came back to his senses.

"Order up!" he shouted, louder than usual, his eyes still fastened to the girl dressed in blue flowers. She looked up, along with a few other patrons, turned in Randall's direction and caught him staring at her. Randall felt his face grow hot. He looked down, looked up again and saw the girl still looking at him with those big dark eyes. He turned and quickly disappeared back to the kitchen. Every time he hollered out "Order up!" he would turn his eyes to her, sometimes catching her looking at him, and he would again disappear to the safety of the sinks and ovens and grills.

The orders slowed down then, and he went back to his dishwashing. After a while, he went to the pick-up window and looked out at the customers. The woman in the blue flowers was gone. Feeling both relieved and disappointed, he returned to his duties.

That night, while sitting at the small table in the kitchen of his little apartment and eating a turkey sandwich, Randall thought of the woman. Such hair, such eyes! He had seen scores of women go in and out of that diner, many of them pretty, many of them not, and only a handful that he could say were truly beautiful. Many nights he would lie alone in his bed dreaming of what it would be like to be the lover of these women, the women who probably had boyfriends and husbands, women who bought elegant dresses at expensive shops so they could look good for their men. These women didn't realize that the dress that hugged a thigh, the lock of hair that curled just so against the cheek, the perfume that trailed from the white neck, these things that happened on purpose or on their own, these things that were meant to keep their men interested also drove insane those men who weren't as fortunate to have a woman, good or otherwise. These men, low men, men with crummy stinking jobs or no jobs at all, these men who wouldn't be given the time of day, these men had to suffer quietly in the presence of these lovely women.

Randall knew he was just such a man. He had left home years ago after one fight too many with his parents and had never looked back. He had read books about life on the road, had dreamed himself the great adventurer, but had instead found nothing romantic about it at all. There were no great gatherings at a famous person's house, no raven-haired senorita in Mexico looking specifically for him. Instead, there had been days of hunger, nights spent in whatever shelter he could find, policemen who were more than willing to use their nightsticks if he didn't get off city property fast enough.

Now he was a dishwasher with a roof over his head, his hands red from hot dishwater, no woman in his life, and now suffering from a yearning, an aching, for a woman who ate a meal at the place he worked, a woman he might never see again.

Randall finished his bit of supper, showered, turned off the lights and went to bed.

[Terygon]

Good start. It's hard to say more at this point, but I'd like to see more.

[Branflakes]

*ditto to what Tery said*

[crazy a]

2.
Randall tried to forget the woman. He told himself that her coming in to dine was pure chance and the odds of her returning were slim. For all he knew, she might not have been a local. Maybe she was visiting friends. Maybe she was just passing through. She could be hundreds of miles away, never to be seen again. He tried to forget her, but it was hard. Every time the bell above the front door rang, he looked ot see if it was her. It never was, and so he'd return to his sinks, disappointed.

Later, he'd sit up in his bed, drinking, a small lamp bathing him in dirty orange. He'd think about her, about love among blue flowers, about dark-skinned women and what it took to have them. Then, with one last hit from the bottle, he'd turn off the lamp and sleep.

3.
One night while he was drinking in the dark, there was a knock at his door. Maybe they'll go away, he thought.

The knocking came again, more persistent this time.

Who the fuck?

The knocking turned into hammering: BAM BAM BAM! Then a voice: "Randall! You in there?"

Randall rolled his eyes. Jerzy. Jerzy lived in the same building, was divorced, and worked in the stockroom of an expensive department store.

"Randall!"

Christ, he thought, what did he want? Couldn't a man be alone with his own madness and sadness without having to deal with someone else's? Was that too much to ask for, God?

"Randall! I know you're in there because you never go anywhere! Open the door! Randall!" More hammering, BAMBAMBAM, like he was trying to break down the door. "RANDALL!!"

"ALRIGHT!" Shit. Damn. Motherfuck. He picked up his pants off the floor, put them on. He found a shirt, put it on, didn't button it.

He made his way through the dark to the door. He opened it, leaving the chain-lock fastened. There was Jerzy, standing there in all his idiot glory, smiling that idiot's grin that begs for a backhand across the chops. Jerzy held up a brown paper bag.

"Lemme in, pal, we'll knock back a few."

Randall closed the door, rested his head against it. He saw himself on the rack, his arms being pulled in one direction, his feet in the other, and Jerzy under a black hood cranking the wheel. The torture never stopped.

He unlocked the door, opened it, and Jerzy stepped in.

"Holy Christ, why's it so dark in here?" Jerzy asked. He felt along the wall and flicked the light switch. The sudden brightness blinded Randall. He had been walking to the couch and now he had to stop and put his hand over his eyes until they adjusted. He felt momentarily dizzy. He imagined bright red flashes going off in his head. Maybe his head would explode all over Jerzy and that would be the end of that.

Randall sat in an easy chair and Jerzy sat on the couch and placed the bag on the coffee table. He pulled out a six-pack, tossed a can to Randall. They both cracked theirs open and took a hit. Randall looked at Jerzy, how his lips were shiny wet from the beer. He felt an urge to puke.

"Hey, you got any chips or anything around here?" Jerzy asked.

"Uh...yeah, I think there's something in the kitchen."

Jerzy got up, went to the kitchen. Randall could hear him opening and closing cabinet doors. "Damn, Randy, ain'tcha got anything in this place? How do you live?" Randall said nothing, taking another drink. Randy. He had always hated it when people called him that. "Randy" was a good-looking blonde guy with a high-paying job who drove a red Corvette with two female passengers who would fuck his brains out later in his nice apartment. He was Randall.

Jerzy came back with a bag of pretzels. "I found these. Are they still good?"

"I don't know, I forgot I had them."

Jerzy reached in the bag and popped a pretzel into his mouth. Randall couldn't hear any crunching sound. Jerzy chewed, looked in the bag, pulled out another, looked at Randall and smiled. Randall wanted to throw his empty beer can at him.

"So what's been going on, boss? Haven't seen you in a while." Jerzy continued eating.

"Nothing at all. I work, I come home. After a day in the kitchen, it's nice to just stare at the walls in peace." Boss. Ugh, so irritating. "What's been going on with you?"

"Same old thing. Watching the asses of rich young things when they come in to buy a Vietnamese statuette for their living room. There was this one woman, long red hair, big tits, bouncy round ass, buying satin sheets in different colors. It got to me. I had to go to the john and work one off, she got to me so bad. Why do women do that to us?"

"They don't know they're doing it, Jerzy. Or rather, a lot of them do know, but a lot don't know. It's madness, yes. In fact...." Randall stopped himself.

"What? In fact what?"

"Nothing." Randall opened another beer, gulped at it. He should've stopped. Now it was too late. Jerzy wasn't going to let it go.

"What is it? You found yourself a woman finally?"

Randall narrowed his eyes at him. "Nooooo...."

"You did! You DID!" Jerzy grew excited at this information. "Holy shit, man, who is she, when did this happen?"

"Shut up, I don't have anyone." Idiot.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't rightly care what you believe."

"You're lying."

Randall shrugged, drank from his can.

"But...you saw someone?"

Randall softened a little. "Yeah, I SAW someone and that was it."

"So how does she look?"

"I only really saw her face, and that was more than enough."

"You're talking like you're in love," Jerzy teased.

Randall didn't reply.

Jerzy stopped eating and stared at him. "You ARE. Omigod, you're in LOVE with her, aren't you?"

"I don't know. I have no idea. I've only seen her that one time, when she came in the diner. She caught me staring at her. She probably thought I was some kind of nutjob. But she had it. Whatever 'it' is, she had plenty. But I haven't seen her again and it's driving me crazy."

They sat in silence for a while, Jerzy eating his pretzels, Randall staring at the coffee table.

"It's not love," Jerzy said, "it's infatuation. You're horny. When was the last time you had a piece?"

"I don't know, too long."

"It's not love."

"It might not be."

"So tell me what she looks like."

"Well," began Randall, "she was wearing this dress with blue flowers, a long dress, the kind that swishes around a woman's legs when she walks. Long brown hair. Her skin was...I don't know, dark, like she lays out in the sun, or maybe she has some exotic blood in her. Her skin had this...not a bronze look, but a kind of glow, a warm dark glow. I don't know how to describe it. And her eyes, she had beautiful eyes, all the magic in the universe was in her eyes."

"What about her tits?" asked Jerzy.

"Tits? TITS? How should I know about her tits? What does it matter how big her tits were, her face had it all!"

"I dunno, man, most guys don't like a flat chick..."

"Well, most guys are idiots."

"Are you calling me an idiot?"

"Along with the rest of the male population."

"I don't gotta take this!"

Randall nodded towards the door. "You know the way out."

Jerzy stood up, put the remaining beers in the bag along with the pretzels, stomped to the door, opened it, went through and slammed it shut. Randall stared at the door. He wasn't worried. Jerzy would come back another day. He always did.

Randall finished his beer and went to bed.

[crazy a]

I can't find it. [img]confused.gif[/img]

I thought I put it on a pile of stuff pretty much right next to the computer but I currently don't see it. And I'm pretty certain I didn't move it to the back with all my other writing stuff. I guess it's partially buried under something or in something. Nonetheless, if I do find it, will continue to post what I wrote. But basically what happens next is: Randall has a sex dream, the girl gets hired at his job, he gets some advice from the owner of a bar, he finally asks her out, discovers she lives in a nice part of town, has an argument with himself about whether he's up to her "standards", then they were about to spend the day together.

But where IS it???? [img]confused.gif[/img]

[Branflakes]

Eek! (yes, I said eek)

That sucks, not knowing where you're writing went. Good luck finding it (reasons I type on the computer and backup like a madhatter).

[Bessie The Cow Jr]

*bump*

[crazy a]

I found it. Stay tuned for continued posting.

[crazy a]

4.
***She is with him. They are in front of a fireplace, the heat and glow of the fire bathing them. There is a light rain outside. He thought he had seen her in all her loveliness, but now he realizes he was wrong. Shestands up. She is wearing the dress with the blue flowers, now his favorite, and she is taking it off. He can't speak, he can only watch as her dark flesh is revealed to him. The dress slides to the floor, he thinks of waterfalls, and then she is there, naked, before him. Her breasts are full, firm. Her belly is smooth, her thighs are both fleshy and solid at the same time, and at her womanly center is an inviting shadow. The fire makes her glow in dark bronze or dark gold or both. She looks down at him as if to ask if he likes what he sees. He can't speak, but she knows he does.

She steps toward him and holds out her hand. He takes it and stands up. She places her hands on his shoulders and kisses him lightly on the mouth. His manhood begins to rise. She unbuttons his shirt, moving down to his center, then takes it off him. He feels himself breathing harder and she puts her hands on his chest as if to relax him. She kneels in front of him, unbuttons his pants, slides the zipper down and pulls them down to his feet. She looks at the growing bulge that is restrained by his briefs, leans closer to it, opens her lips and breathes onto it. He can feel the small puff of heat through the material. He stands still, watching, not wanting to move for fear she'll stop and disappear. She hooks her slender fingers into the elastic band and slowly pulls them over the bulge and down his legs. He is not fully erect, but he is close. She looks at his penis in the firelight, looks up at him and smiles. He is relieved and glad that she approves of him.

She takes the penis at the base in her hand and pulls gently up, down, and up again. He moans, he can't stand it, he's dying. A drop of clear fluid appears at the opening, the light of the fire glinting off it. She strokes him more, and more fluid appears. She leans in and licks it off the head. The tongue iswarm and expert as it licks and swirls around the head, licking down one side of his shaft, underneath his cock, tickling his balls which are full to exploding, and up the other side. She looks at his now erect cock intently, opens her mouth and takes him in. He moans, his breathing harder. Her mouth is hot, her tongue wet, and she takes him in more. Now she draws back. His cock is shiny now, shiny from her mouth. She rubs his thigh and ass with one hand, holds his penis with the other and begins sucking him in a steady rhythm. He puts his hands on her head, working his fingers into her dark hair. Her mouth moves up and down his cock, she pulls away to lick up and down it and to take his balls in her mouth, then goes back to sucking him. She sucks him with an urgency, a hunger. He feels a tingling at the head. He knows he is close to letting it go. She knows too, she feels him tighten, and she slowly pulls away. She kisses the head then stands up.

There is a bed nearby and they walk to it, his hand on her firm round ass, her hand grasping his cock. They stand next to the bed. She wraps her arms around his neck, he holds her hips. They kiss deeply, his tongue stabbing at hers, hers gliding along the roof of his mouth. He puls her tighter against him. His penis throbs against her belly.

She lies back on the bed and he lies next to her. He kisses her mouth, her ears, her neck, her throat. He kisses down to her breasts, sucking and nuzzling the soft flesh. He takes one of her hard nipples into his mouth, nipping at it, his tongue circling it. He moves to the other breast and repeats the motions. She holds the back of his head and arches her back, moaning softly.

He moves down further, leaving a trail ofkisses along her belly, down to the soft patch of hair lying in shadow. She spreads her legs, running her hands through his hair. He licks up one thigh then back down, kisses around her hot moist flower and licks up and down the other thigh. He moves to her center, inhaling her musky hot scent. He kisses around her lips, teasing her, making her lift her hips for more.

He finally opens her with his fingers. Inside she is pink and wet and hot. Her juice trickles out of her, down to her ass. He moves in and takes a long lick, making her moan out loud. He licks down from the top, down to her ass, then back up. He pushes his tongue into her body, licking out her juice, her honey, drinking from her. She grabs his hair in her fists and pulls him deeper into her. He moves up a little, pulling back the pink hood and begins licking her stiff pink jewel. He kisses it, sucks it, nibbles it. She breathes faster, crying out, then spasms as the orgasm runs through her. He feels the onrush of honey on his tongue and laps it up faster.

Now he kneels between her open thighs. She is very wet and very open. His cock is stiff, hard, dripping his own fluid. He rubs the head up and down her lips then pushes it in. Keeping only the head in, he lies down on top of her. She brings her legs up, rubbing his thighs with hers, trying to pull him into her. He slowly pushes in once, twice, thrice, then sinks his whole being into her. She cries out from the pleasure of it, his heat filling her. He is buried in her. They kiss, their tongues reaching for each other, reaching for more, but they lie still. They don't move, wanting to make their joining last.

Finally he begins to move, slowly at first. They hold their breaths so they can hear the little sucking sounds as his penis moves in and out of her sex. Their inner fire burns hotter now, and he quickens his movements. He moves to her breasts, taking one in his mouth, then the other, moving back to her mouth. Their mouths, hungry, trying to devour each other. She opens herself more and he thrusts deeper, tapping her core with his cock, making her cry out. Another orgasm washes over her and she claws his back, bites his neck. He feels more of her juice drench his cock. Her wetness is flowing out of her, down her ass and onto the sheet. She begins fucking his ear with her tongue, breathing hotly into it, and finally he cannot hold out. He buries his face in her neck and growlscreams, his cock shooting stream after stream of hot white thickness into her body, pouring it into her womb. The orgasm is both painful and relieving. Finally he is empty, and he stays inside her, shuddering with every little movement. She hugs him to her, stroking his hair, kissing his neck.

Outside, the rain continues to fall and inside, the fire burns.***

Randall opened his eyes. Shit, he thought. He masturbated, showered, and went back to sleep.

[Branflakes]

YEAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And a nice sex scene, too. [img]wink.gif[/img]