It's Round Robin time!!!
The rules are simple – Read the first paragraph then add your own spin in the comment section. (That means you have to click on the comments link directly beneath this post sand see if someone else has added to the story. Then just jump in and write your part.
You can come back as many times as you'd like and add as much as you want. Write a sentence. Write two. Write a paragraph. It's all up to you. The only caveat—please keep it PG rated, since we are an open blog and the little ones might read it. (Hey you never know who is looking at or reading these things LOL.)
We'll keep it going as long as you keep writing or until Wednesday night at midnight. So, make it unique, make it funny, make it scary, make it paranormal or whatever you want, just have fun!
HERE'S THE STORY:
I couldn't wait to get home. Really. Could. Not. Wait. The hands on the clock moved like a snail today. Five o'clock couldn't get here fast enough. When the big hand hit the twelve, I was out the door like my shoes were on fire. Jean-Paul was coming home tonight. We've been apart for six long, lonely weeks, through no choice of my own, I'll guarantee you. If I'd had any inkling he'd be in Paris for six weeks without me, I'd have quit my job and hightailed it over there in a nanosecond.
Fresh flowers are on the table. The wine is chilling. I picked up dinner on the way home. Hey, not seeing my fiance in six weeks, no way was I slaving over a hot stove. I'm showered, pampered, primped and ready to rock. All we need now is Jean-Paul.
Okay, now it's up to you. I can't wait to see where you take the story.
I just wanted to add, in case you didn't know, my novella, Second Chances, book #1 in the Destiny's Desire series, is currently free at Amazon. If you haven't read it yet, now is your chance. After all, you can't beat the price. :-) Link: http://amzn.to/GIx1uB
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When I entered the house, it was silent like a tomb. Normally when Jean Paul returned, there was music and laughter and dancing. But walking in the door, I knew something had changed. Something was not the same.
I laid my trench coat over the back of the kitchen chair and set my handbag in the seat. On tippie toes I stepped to the hallway leading to the bedrooms. From one of them, the master, I could see a pinprick of light playing along the walls, the dresser, the bedside tables. My heart caught in my throat.
Then my common sense kicked in. I recognzed the light for what it was -- the radiance from a candle. And my ear caught the faint sound of running water. He waited for me ... in the shower.
On a rush of eagerness, I tiptoed into the master bathroom. Just as I entered, the shower curtain was swept aside. A man stood there, but he was not Jean Paul
I screamed. He screamed. And then I realized my worst nightmare--it was my ex!
A split second of recognition and then a full minute of examination. What was I supposed to do? I mean, he still looked good. The reason he was the EX had nothing to do with his fantastic body or the sex.
He had pulled some real pranks during our marriage but this time he had gone beyond his wild fantasies. There was a reason why he was my ex. Where was Jean-Paul?
And that's when the phone rang with the call that would alter my life forever.
It was Jean Paul, who asked, "Is he there? Your ex, Dustin, I mean. I got in touch with him and asked him to wait for you, so you wouldn't be alone. I have some bad news ..."
"Why aren't you here? I don't want him, I want you." My mind whirled a tornado of awful possibilities of 'bad news'.
I hadn't registered the words "bad news" until just that second. I said, "Wait. WHAT bad news?"
What bad news could Jean-Paul possible have that required my ex to be nude in my shower? I almost blurted that out but decided that might not be the best approach to the situation.
"He's here. All wet as usual," I glared at my ex but he just smiled.
"I'm sorry, hon. I wanted to tell you face-to-face, but I . . ." Jean-Paul's voice trailed off and a chill ran up my spine. Face-to-face--that was never a good line in a conversation. Those words ranked right up there with "It's not you, it's me."
"I'm sorry, cherie, but I'm not coming back. Ever."
My legs gave way and both the phone and my knees hit the floor. Not me, it's him? I had no problem with him. What the hell!
Doug helped me up as my mind comprehended Jean-Paul's words. That usually meant another woman....maybe another man.
"Hon, are you alright?" Doug asked.
"Hell no!" Anger kicked in. " That jacked son of a bitch just broke it off!"
Doug's expression lightened with understanding and he nodded. "Yep. Thought that might be it. "
The call disconnected just as Jean Paul was ready to share his bad news...
Crushed and with my mind a swirl of questions. I sat on the floor, holding on to the phone with a death grip.
"Of course you'd think that, you're the king of walking out" I needed to hit something and Doug was beginning to look like a good target.
I spun around to face him "And why in the hell did he call you?"
Doug shrugged one naked muscular shoulder. "I didn't even know he had my number."
I shook my head "Men ... you are all ..." clenching my hands I searched for words, anger and humiliation clogging my throat. Why had Jean Paul sent Doug here, why? To show him that once again I'm not good enough for someone.
Doug reached for me and I slapped his hand away.
"Don't, don't touch me you jackass."
"Hey, I'm not the one that just broke it off with ...
"No" I cut him off "No, it's never you, it's never them, it's always me"
He reached for me again and I slapped his face. Startled, I stood there looking at the red hand mark on his cheek.
Doug took a step towards me causing me to back up, glancing quickly behind me to see where the door was. That was my big mistake because the next thing I knew I was being thrown over his shoulder my hands slapping his naked back.
"Let me down you oaf!"
"Oh, I'm going to let you down all right" and with that he set me down in the bath and turned on the shower. "You need to cool off, meanwhile, I smell food" And with that he turned around and walked out of the room and even through the streaming water, even though my indignation ... I couldn't help but stare at those tight buns ....
Who wants to stand in the shower when tight buns are calling? Nothing like a little loving to get over that jacked son of a bitch. I could cry tomorrow.
I turned off the shower, stripped, and marched into the kitchen.
He turned around when I marched into the kitchen in my altogether. A chicken leg hung from his mouth (Okay, I picked up a bucket of fried chicken. Not gourmet, but it tastes great after a few rounds in the sack.)
"You look..." His gaze swept over me, and I felt as vulnerable as our first time. "Amazing."
"Not so bad yourself. Still working out, I see."
"You too."
I stepped to him, pulled the chicken from his mouth, and took a bite. "Let's see how well you've kept those muscles toned."
He swallowed. "Lead the way."
Halfway to the bedroom, someone knocked on the door.
"Police! Open up!"
Doug froze and a hunted look flared in his eyes.
"Shit, they've found me!" he whispered. "Never thought they'd track me here."
I stared at him in horror. "What have you done now?" Back when we were together, he'd passed through any number of ill-judged exploits. That was part of the reason why we'd broken up. (It certainly hadn't been because of what we shared in bed.)
Another resounding knock battered the door. "Open up! We have a warrant!"
I knew the referee saw my high sticking penalty in the hockey game! I should have just headed to the penalty box. But, no! I decided to make a break for it. They must have followed me here.
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