Sensuous Works in Progress

I’ve got a few sexy Works-in-Progress happening and thought I’d let you peek at one of them. I wanted to title it Work in Progress Wednesday and I may do so … next week 🙂


A bag of apples was all Tabby really wanted — and a couple of milk chocolate bars, the ones with the European names that melted in such a delicious manner that dripping them on fruit, or any part of the body, could be done with ease. A breeze wafting from the front door lifted her sundress and tickled her naked thighs, still moist from a dip in a friend’s swimming pool. Putting panties back on wasn’t necessary. A stop at the corner market extended her respite from the piles of paper she had tackled earlier in the day. Her paralegal career was on the uptick and that meant finding time to pause and care for herself required delicate maneuvering and embracing opportunities as they arose.

Apples cut into slices and dipped in chocolate pulled at her need for sweets like a

Photo of Juan Miguel posted on a blog

magnet pulled at metal filings. Or like a barrel-chested man in tight jeans made the pulse of a woman race when she had been without the embrace of a skilled lover for weeks.

“Dylan.” The red wire basket she held nearly slipped off her arm when she grabbed a handful of apples. His sudden appearance made tearing a plastic bag off the roll nearly impossible.

“Oh, let me help.” His fingers and forearms maintained the build from his days playing linebacker in college. Yet, with the dexterity of a pianist he easily ripped off a bag and handed it to her. He made it look simple. Like the ornate crown molding and custom window frames he crafted.

Tabby inhaled his scent, as husky as his words. Her breasts in their fullness pressed against the sundress and gave a slight lift to the fabric with her breath. She wore nothing on top. When his eyes moved downward and zeroed in on her cleavage, her nipples tightened and sent a shock of pleasure. “Thank you.” Her words on exhale dripped with sweetness and she connected with his green eyes, set magnificently beneath a lock of golden-brown hair and framed by a gray T-shirt that accentuated his bronze complexion. A bead of sweat trailed from beneath his hair and down his cheek. A dark moist stain formed a patch under his neck and around his nipples. In that split second, Tabby starred in her own cinematic adventure, ripping off his shirt to cool him with her lips running across his flesh. He would take the hem of her dress and–

“You okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah.” Or, she would be great provided he didn’t wander off, dash into a pick-up truck, and mix unrecognizably into the traffic zipping up and down the street. “Just surprised to see you here.”

“Hey, fresh produce at great prices. I stop here after jobs in the area.”


Stay Tuned …


About Don Simkovich

Writing is foundational to our communication like running is to sports.
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