By Jay McKenzie
You climb onto the motorbike as the sun is starting to dip. You carry a thin sheen of salt and sweat on your skin and the sticky sweetness of coconut juice on your lips. You climb onto the motorbike because, though you’ve known Markus for a matter of hours, already the thought of your thigh without his pressed against it is a delicious agony you’re not ready to bear.
He found you by the road: dusty, hot, angry. You wanted to rent a bike to go to Mawun, but there were no bikes left at the rental shop. Habis, said the shopkeeper. Finished. You were trying to decide what to do with a day set free when he drove past, but circled back.
I can take you somewhere?
You are clever enough not to clamber onto bikes with strange men. Or at least you were. But you got on and went to the beach and he pressed his thigh to yours, and the world tilted, just a bit.
This time, his hand strays to your leg, finger slipping into the dent behind your knee. You shiver, and the bike thrums, and you pull yourself into the curve of his spine. At Tanjung Aan, you discard your clothes without words, and fingers entwined, you let the waves kiss your ankles. The sky is gray and purple and gold, and when you are shoulder-shrouded by the Indian Ocean, you wrap your legs around his waist. Your lips meet and a jagged scar of lightning rips the sky. Then rain falls, soft first, then harder and as insistent as your hungry kisses.
Back at the homestay, you shower, eyes locked together, then fall onto the thin mattress in a tangled heap. A mosquito buzzes somewhere by your ear, but neither of you can break contact long enough to catch it. Let him have our blood, says Markus, and you remember Donne’s The Flea and think that it might be perfect for your blood to mingle in this creature.
After, you lie nose to nose in the darkness and talk of all things except him leaving tomorrow. Neither of you wants to taint the moment with broken future promises. Let us have this, you think falling asleep in his arms.
When the morning pushes her buttery fingers through the cracks in the blinds, you touch his face, his arms, his shoulders, which still carry the heat of yesterday’s sun, before heading out to start the end of your together.
Later, he will wave to you from the periphery of thought, wedge a foot in a ventricle. In years to come, a fork of lightning, a sunburnt shoulder will bring him back, and it will be delicious. You will feast on the sweetness, then tuck him away again.
But now, you let your fingers slip from his, beam the radiant smile that he will conjure to carry him through a rough day, and turn away.
The motorbike revs, roars away, its memory silenced by cicadas.
What a great read with vivid, sensory details enticing you into the scene
Sexy slice-of-life tales are usually boring, but this one got my attention. When I read it again, I saw that some of the imagery was what made this tale, for it told me so much about the way the woman (or man) thinks. Some of my favorite phrases:
– shoulder-shrouded by the Indian Ocean –
– her buttery fingers –
– wedge a foot in a ventricle –
Some suggestions:
In the first paragraph, you write about the delicious agony of his thigh pressed against yours. Thigh-pressing is mentioned again in the fourth paragraph. I feel this should be changed to some other form of delicious agony in the fourth paragraph.
The mention of Donne’s tale feels out of place. I would suggest replacing it with some sort of trenchant observation by the narrator. Maybe the mosquito is welcome to watch because it will be non-judgmental discreet. Maybe the mosquito is a reminder than lovemaking and blood sucking are intertwined.
ANYWAY…this was a terrific tale. About 500 words? I could never pull off such a complete, interesting tale in 500 words. Your skills are legit, and the imagery blew me away.
This second person point of view flash is a gem.
I was completely immersed in the narrative, which was brought to life by the exceptional imagery. “You carry a thin sheen of salt and sweat on your skin…”
“When the morning pushes her buttery fingers through the cracks in the blinds…” and oh, this one, “before heading out to start the end of your together.”
Hardly worth a mention, but I wish a different description was crafted for “…you let the waves kiss your ankles,” as this seemed a bit trite in comparison to the rest of the prose.
Past encounters, past loves swirled through my mind while reading this. It was sweeter than my morning tea.
Thank you.
What an absolute delight to read ! Such rich, immersive details (buttery fingers on the blinds, agony of not having his thigh pressed to yours, etc.). The flow is impeccable, as well.
I especially like this too because it slightly reminds me of my favourite song of all time (“Year of the Cat” by Al Stewart).
Stunning work !
An Oscar Wilde quote comes to mind: “Some things are more precious because they don’t last long.”
This story is a perfect encapsulation of a rosy summer fling, short enough to not discover any flaws and romanticise it completely.
Beautiful story with powerful imagery. Great work! 😊
An enjoyable story that’s sweet, and then bitter sweet. Very much a tale of taking advantage of “a day set free”, but ultimately the shopkeeper is right, habis. Thanks to the lovely visual imagery, it feels like reliving a cherished memory even though it’s also present tense. Good characterizing on the protagonist too, with that curious attitude of pragmatism taking a back seat to this one day fantasy.
Love love love this story. I was immersed from the beginning. The prose is lyrical and sensual and fits the mood and tone of the story perfectly. Well done.
Steamy hot and delicious! Packed with an impressive amount of imagery, action and emotions. I liked the immersive quality and the immediacy of the 2nd POV. That nod to Donne was so clever.
Fork = Great title! Draws the reader in.
“the sticky sweetness of coconut juice on your lips.” = hit me with sticky and kept me with sweetness of coconut juice on my lips.
Awesome use of mixed sensory delights.
“He found you by the road: dusty, hot, angry..” = got me with the short descriptors that ground the reader and explain the “you” in the story’s relation to the
Such a great way to bring Markus into the story.
“Or at least you were.” = This is an important moment. The female is not acting in character.
“The sky is gray and purple and gold, and when you are shoulder-shrouded by the Indian Ocean, you wrap your legs around his waist.” = great eye and feel to the visual of sex without saying anything about it at all.
Always so interesting.
“A mosquito buzzes somewhere by your ear, but neither of you can break contact long enough to catch it. Let him have our blood, says Markus, and you remember Donne’s The Flea and think that it might be perfect for your blood to mingle in this creature.” = such a sound everyone is familiar with/nice seque into the Flea by Donne and her mind going to where it goes.
It still pulls the reader in at this point so the interest is kept up. Well done.
“Let us have this, you think, falling asleep in his arms.” = The sweetness after the joy of falling asleep together nestled in.
“Later, he will wave to you from the periphery of thought, wedge a foot in a ventricle. In years to come, a fork of lightning, a sunburnt shoulder will bring him back, and it will be delicious. You will feast on the sweetness, then tuck him away again.” = such great images and the forks of lightning really hit it home. Feasting on the sweetness and tucking him away again. As if for another day.
Such a great story within a story as you take us through the physical and emotional awareness of the female in the story. A well written flash fiction piece.
Wonderful imagery and you heap so much sensory experiences in just 500 words, this was awesome!
Wonderful details that bring the setting/people to life.
loved it. every sentence.
I love this, Jay! Your stories are so visual. I felt like I was right there with them, the awkward old lady following this couple on their whirlwind romance!
Refreshing to read about one of the delicious moments in time that we enjoy, rather than mourn, for years to come.