(FICTION) (Thanks to Di at http://pensitivity101.wordpress.com/ for the idea for the story.)
PART 2 (FIND PART 1 HERE IF YOU HAVEN’T READ IT YET.)
When Petra had first heard about “Mother,” she imagined a big, furry Newfoundland dog, such was the atmosphere of this strange house she’d been hired to work in. But no—“Mother” was indeed a woman, the mother of the lady of the house. Not knowing her employer’s maiden name, she couldn’t call “Mother” anything else. And “Mother” didn’t seem to mind.
Petra walked down the hall and knocked on “Mother’s” bedroom door. She hated when it was closed—she never knew what she’d find “Mother” doing when she walked in. One time she’d been staring into a crystal ball she’d set in the middle of her massive bed, mumbling at it in what sounded like backwards English. Another time, Petra had opened the door to catch “Mother” scrambling to hide someone under the bed, even though she’d called out to Petra to come in.
“Mother” had hiked up the straps of her bra (she wasn’t wearing a blouse) and asked Petra, “What do you want?” as she gathered up a deck of cards from the bed. Petra suspected “Mother” had been playing strip poker with whomever she had hidden.
“You called me, ‘Mother,’” Petra had said.
Which was what she said when she walked in tonight. “Mother” was in bed, her bedcovers clutched in both hands all the way up under her chin, her teeth in a small pink pot on the antique nightstand.
“I need a bottle of wine,” “Mother” croaked. “My wine. Not that cheap crap my good-for-nothing son-in-law buys.”
“Yes, ‘Mother,’” Petra said as she turned to go.
“And don’t bother with a glass. I’ll drink it straight out of the bottle.” Without her teeth in, the word “straight” came out “schtraight.”
“Yes, ‘Mother,” Petra repeated. She left the door open a little as she retreated, wondering as she descended the stairs why they didn’t just give “Mother” a cell phone so they didn’t have to keep going up to see what she wanted.
Downstairs, the party was still humming away. Petra avoided the guests by ducking between them with her eyes down. She ran into Geeves again on her way through the kitchen to the wine cellar.
“How did you find ‘Mother’?” he asked.
“Toothless and wineless,” Petra answered.
Geeves sniffed at her and off he went again.
Petra hated the wine cellar. Lit with only one bare lightbulb, the corners smelled of black, oily dust, and it was quiet enough to hear the mice scurrying around.
She hurried down the wooden stairs and turned down the corridor whose walls were lined with bottles in ceiling-high racks, to the back corner where they kept “Mother’s” wine. Only the rack was empty.
A gurgling sound came from the far corner of the cellar.
(To be continued on Thursday.)
(Di’s prompt was “Petra as a name, wine cellar as a setting, and ‘getting caught’ as your what if. “)
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Zara M Baily writes multicultural romance short stories that are erotic, paranormal, fantasy, and perhaps also historical in the future. One thing is for certain: Zara doesn’t do, and won’t ever do, sweet. Or clean. Her sexytimes may be dirty at times, but they’re always, always consensual and responsible.
Taylor Morgan has always had a penchant for fairy tales—and not the Disney sort. Currently, she is creating tales that feature heroes who are more likely to hide in the woods than ride off into the sunset, and the heroines who claim their hearts. Taylor lives in Alabama with her husband, daughter, and dog. If missing, she’s probably holed up with a new book, a blanket, and a glass of wine or a Pumpkin Spice Latte.
Emmaline Warden lives in Colorado with her husband, four Chaos Makers, and a menagerie of animals. Her love of romance began with an accidental copy of Susan Elizabeth Phillips’s Dream a Little Dream, and a trip to D.C. When she is not writing, she can be found outdoors with her kids, at the dog park with “her boys,” or with her nose buried in a book.
Belle Langtree’s passion for hot, sexy romance began in the late seventies, after reading The Flame and The Flowerby Kathleen Woodiwiss. Over the years, her book club friends encouraged her to write her own love stories. Belle lives in the great State of Michigan with her loving husband of fifty happy years and their wild and crazy rescue pup named Faith Fu Fu.
Chele MacCabe has spent the last several years learning to string words together to tell stories. After all that practice and playing with her favorite fandom, she is ready to share her imagination with the rest of the world. She lives in the mountains with her mister, the short and the medium sized ones, and the critters that have found their way into their lives.
Sera Taíno was born to Puerto Rican parents in New Jersey. She writes romances featuring the kinds of women she grew up around. Sera currently lives in Florida with her husband and two sons, and teaches English Lit by day. A voracious reader as well as an avid outdoors person, she’s often torn between curling up on a sofa with a cup of coffee and a good book, and taking off for a long run on the trails around her house.
Elizabeth Langley has been writing stories for as long as she can remember. Her love of romance novels started in her early twenties and has continued throughout her life. She is currently working on a few contemporary novels that she hopes to release within the next year. She lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest with her husband, two children, one bonus child, three neurotic cats (one of which is probably an alien disguised as a cat), an energetic Corgi, and a homicidal rabbit.
Allegra Johnson is an up-and-coming indie author who enjoys writing steamy love stories. She can be found stumbling throughout Romancelandia, figuring out this author thing one book at a time.
Linda G. Hill has been writing out-of-this world romance stories since she was a child. Living vicariously through the characters in her head, she’s experienced the kinds of love that mortals only dream of. In reality, she’s just a mom, an author, an editor, and a couch potato if there ever was one.
lindaghill.com 