Its Friday Flash Fiction time again and this week the starter sentence was contributed by Paul Phillips. He blogs here and has some tremendous pieces of writing on there so I urge you to take a look. Thanks to Cormac Brown for his continued work in organising this writing club.
The starter sentence is in blue. Hope you enjoy my flash…..oooherrr!
The First Time.
He had been told crawling would get him nowhere and they couldn’t have been more wrong. Christopher Price was thirteen years old and he wasn’t going to miss the show for anything. He’d tried getting in at the front door, pleading with the doormen.
“Awe, please let me in. I’ll stand at the back, out of the way. I’ll tell everyone what great blokes you are. Please…”
“Look kid, no amount of crawling and buttering up is going to get you in there. Its men only and you’re what…fourteen tops. No chance kid, beat it.”
Christopher walked away, his head hung low and his hands thrust firmly in his jeans pockets. He had to get in there, he just had to. But how? And then he saw how. As he walked down the side of the building he noticed the back door was slightly open. He checked that he wasn’t being watched and then jumped over the small wall and ran to the door. From inside he could hear men’s voices: laughing, cheering and even swearing. He stepped inside and there was another door that was closed. He opened that door and the noise grew louder. A heavy cloud of cigarette smoke hung in the air. Men were standing around, chatting and drinking from handled pint pots. And then there was a loud cheer.
“Gentlemen, could you please take to your seats. Now are you ready?”
When the men sat down, Christopher could see another man with a large moustache stood on the stage.
“I said are you ready?” moustache shouted.
A huge cry of yes from every man in the place.
“Then, I introduce, all the way from London, the exquisite Monique Monroe.”
The cheer this time nearly took the roof off the building. Christopher had to get closer.
All the men were sat on either sides of long tables, the head of them only a few feet from the stage, their eyes fixed on the stage waiting for Monique Monroe. Christopher eased inside the room, the smell and taste of cigarettes invading his nose and mouth. He crouched down and started to crawl down the length of the centre table. A loud applause erupted as she came onto the stage, whistles and cheers mingling in with the applause. Christopher sped up, trying not to put his hands or knees on anyone foot. He was getting to the end of the table when a cheer went up.
The sight that greeted him was glorious. She was divine. Her hair and make-up were perfect, her lips glistening in the light above the stage. Christopher allowed his eyes to travel down her neck and onto her chest.
“Holy…” he whispered to himself.
Her breasts were perfect and firm, gently swaying as she moved through her routine. A drunken man approached the stage but tripped over and was helped up and removed by one of the burley doormen that had refused Christopher earlier. Christopher laughed to himself, not that it was that funny but more with nervousness at seeing a real naked woman for the first time. He watched as she hooked her thumbs into the sides of her panties and rolled them down her thighs, bending down to take them off. As she straightened she looked down at the floor and saw Christopher under the table. His eyes opened wide and he slowly shook his head. The stripper smiled and gave a wink before throwing her panties into the air. A cheer erupted again.
There it was, in the flesh. The soft looking bush that he’d seen so many times in the magazines that he’d found stashed in his fathers sock drawer. But this was better. This was much better and the feeling between his legs was best ever.
He had to get home.
If you enjoyed this rushed piece of writing then please let me know by leaving a comment. On the other hand, if you didn’t then maybe we could sort it like gentlemen…I’ll see you outside. 🙂