Creative Writing: Wheels

“After defeating the Cyclops Polyphemus, my men grew exhausted. They grew thirsty from rowing under the beating hot sun. Sweat dripped down their heads and the ship’s deck grew moist from the mix of the salty, seawater and sweat. We stopped by on a nearby island.

We get to his black mustang he opens up the passenger door for me. Wow he's such a gentleman I think.

"5 more minutes." I mumble into my pillow. Suddenly I'm lifted out of my bed and set down on the floor. "You're going to pay for that."

his pelvis at me in a vulgar way, and I can see my hand in an endless slow motion

There was a moment where Bucky's look matched yours, debating whether or not to tackle and tickle you. But his eyes melted into yours.

It wasn’t just parents in the room this evening. It wasn’t because it was Rufus's birthday. It's a packed house to see members of the Stax music academy rhythm band. A music program of the Soulsville that launched the revitalization of the neighbourhood, the museum and re-invigorated interests in the label's legacy. As 12-year-old Lakeisha hits the stage to sing the opening bars to Carla Thomas's first hit, Gee Whiz Everyone hushes. It's a hard song that requires the 12-year-old to his the right note. She hit the note to perfection and as she brings the band in, and the crowd goes nuts. These middle schoolers own the room with a confidence that takes a lifetime to cultivate. They demonstrate the respectful guardianship of the music, unlike any other. It's hard not to get emotional. Deanie Parker once described Stax Records to be a utopic vision in the middle of the segregated south.

“Yeah, those three red cars had him pinned in until we arrived. That is when they took off,” Det. Wyatt said.

It made my heart melt. He released me and grabbed my arm for me to follow him. He began to walk out the door with me when I stopped.

The power of the baritone saxophone makes us feel perky in the surrounded-by-words “Mantra” while “Sissoko’s Voyage”, resembling an African dance, chains Chris Bruce’s funky guitar rhythms with the circular bass lines of

"Wha,"He then hopped out of bed before I could read his face. "Of course you are. Let's go see what's downstairs."

Harry grabs me by my shoulders, he looks deep into my eyes. ."You're not an idiot, just call your brother and ask him how long he'll be."

I go sit next to him and he is using his sweatshirt as a pillow and offers it to me.

He’s watching me, his mouth open, his breating halted, stilted-his tongue between his teeth. He looks so…hot. We’re wet and slippery and moving against each other. I lean down and kiss him. He closes his eyes. Tentatively, I bring my hands up to his head and run my fingers through his hair, not taking my lips from his mouth. This is allowed. He likes this. I like this. And we move together. I tug his hair, tipping his head back and deepening the kiss, riding him-faster, picking up the rhythm. I moan agains his mouth. He starts to lift me faster, faster….holding my hips. Kissing me back. We are wet mouths and tongues, tangled hair, and moving hips. All sensation…all consuming again. I am close…I am starting to recognize this delicious tightening…quickening. And the water…it’s swirling around us, our own whirlpool, a stirring vortex as our movements become more frantic…sloshing everywhere, mirroring what’s happening inside me….and I just don’t

He picks me up and starts walking me to the clubhouse. That’s when my brain finally clears. “Stop. Everyone stay back,” I scream and painfully wiggle out of Kane’s

He walks inside taking off his coat. I close the door after he walks inside. I follow him to the living room waiting for him to start talking, but instead he watches my movement as I went and sat on the opposite of him.