Pasadena Prince—or Frog?
by Beverly Diehl
“I’m a Prince, and I live in an historic Castle.”
It had to be one of the best pickup lines ever, and Liz had suckered right in. He’d even shown his driver’s license to prove it: Michael Prince, Raymond Avenue, Pasadena, while a quick glimpse at his DOB showed he was a 36 year old Gemini (that explained the slick tongue.)
They said the best way to cure falling off a horse was getting right back on, but after a three year relationship that ended horribly, Liz had decided on a full year of celibacy afterwards. Her four bff’s celebrated her reaching that milestone by treating Liz to tea at the Huntington Library and Gardens. Liz loved art and roses, and an evening laughing her brains out at the The Icehouse was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
Especially with a cute guy like Michael at the next table, flirting with her, sending over endless rounds of Electric Love cocktails.
He was sexy, he was very interested—balm to Liz’s wounded spirit—and he was even willing to wait while Sonia Googled him and checked his Facebook profile, to verify he wasn’t wanted for axe-murder somewhere. Sometimes the girls called Sonia ‘Teacher’ as a joke, but they all respected and relied on her for her common sense.
Her willingness to act as the Designated Driver didn’t hurt, either. “Liz, you’ve got your cell phone, right? Charged? Okay, call or text me if you change your mind,” Sonia had ordered, frowning a little as Liz walked off, giggling, her hand in Michael’s.
Liz felt happy, happy, happy. Michael was just enough taller, just enough older, and he smelled luscious when she bumped into him here and there, avoiding other pedestrians on the walk back to his place. It felt a little awkward stopping into the store for condoms, but reassuring too, that Michael was both prepared to be responsible, and did not already have a huge stash of them at his place.
The Castle, oh, the Castle! The wide veranda of historic Castle Green, straight out of a Hollywood movie, the lobby with its sweeping staircase and tile floor; the place was truly enchanting, right down to the open-cage elevator ride to the sixth floor. Liz was half in love with Michael just for living in such a fabulous place, complete with elegant fireplace and friendly orange marmalade cat, even before they walked onto the balcony from the round turret room.
Outside, Michael started from his knees, kissing her hand and working his way up to her neck, as she enjoyed the spectacular view of Pasadena’s sparkling city lights. Later, he’d proved himself True Royalty between the sheets. A wonderful way to get back on the pony, except...
After Michael had kissed her and gone out for a morning jog, Liz pried her eyes open and went snooping in search of aspirin to place on her blue curacao-stained tongue.
She found aspirin, all right, but she also found several prescription bottles for a Rebecca Slick.
The name sounded oddly familiar. Followed by the cat, she went to the built in bookcases. There were a row of books by... Rebecca Slick. Juicy. Slippery. Dripping. Wetness. One of Liz’s favorite authors, a woman in her fifties with a predilection, at least in her erotic fiction, for cougar love.
Michael must be her unfaithful boy-toy. Liz felt suddenly unclean, but didn’t want to further abuse Rebecca’s unwitting hospitality by climbing into her clawfoot bathtub.
The cat sat and looked at her. She looked at the cat. “Manny, what should I do?”
“M-row.”
“Taking that means, I don’t give a rat’s hat for your problems, feed me.”
Liz found an empty enamel dish in the kitchen labeled ‘Manuscript’ on the side. “Manny, is this your bowl?”
“M-Row!” He vocalized louder and rubbed against her ankles as she opened cupboards in search of his food. Might as well feed the poor cat before embarking on the Walk of Shame. Liz poured a bowl of kibbles, to Manny’s delight, thinking that she’d seen bagel places on Colorado, she could hole up in one of those and text Sonia to come pick her up, please.
Back in the bedroom, she sniffed her panties, deciding to stuff them in her purse and go commando. She was just pulling her shirt on when Michael came back in, damp with sweat from his run, carrying a brown paper bag that smelled like it held fresh bagels.
Her tummy rumbled in response to the bagels and the rest of her responded in other ways to Michael’s devastating sexiness.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, looking hurt. “I thought we could have breakfast in bed.”
How dare he look like that? He was the one who... “I thought I’d spare us from getting in trouble with your wife? Girlfriend?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about Rebecca.”
He burst out laughing. “I don’t think you know what you think you know.”
“I know this is her apartment, not yours.”
“True.”
“Aren’t you the least bit ashamed?”
“Ashamed of bringing you to my aunt’s apartment instead of mine? I guess it is slightly false pretenses, but her view is better, and I have to come up here a couple times a day to feed Manny, while she’s on her book tour.”
Liz opened and closed her mouth. “You live here, too?”
Michael laughed again, leading her into the kitchen where he opened the bag of bagels and began slicing them. “I lived here first. My apartment is on the third floor, but doesn’t have a turret, sorry! Aunt Becky liked The Castle so much that when this apartment became available, she snapped it up.”
“Oh.”
“‘Zat all you have to say?” he teased.
Liz kissed him, then walked towards the bedroom, pulling her shirt back over her head. “I like my bagels toasted with lots of cream cheese, please.”
by Beverly Diehl
“I’m a Prince, and I live in an historic Castle.”
It had to be one of the best pickup lines ever, and Liz had suckered right in. He’d even shown his driver’s license to prove it: Michael Prince, Raymond Avenue, Pasadena, while a quick glimpse at his DOB showed he was a 36 year old Gemini (that explained the slick tongue.)
They said the best way to cure falling off a horse was getting right back on, but after a three year relationship that ended horribly, Liz had decided on a full year of celibacy afterwards. Her four bff’s celebrated her reaching that milestone by treating Liz to tea at the Huntington Library and Gardens. Liz loved art and roses, and an evening laughing her brains out at the The Icehouse was the perfect ending to a perfect day.
Especially with a cute guy like Michael at the next table, flirting with her, sending over endless rounds of Electric Love cocktails.
He was sexy, he was very interested—balm to Liz’s wounded spirit—and he was even willing to wait while Sonia Googled him and checked his Facebook profile, to verify he wasn’t wanted for axe-murder somewhere. Sometimes the girls called Sonia ‘Teacher’ as a joke, but they all respected and relied on her for her common sense.
Her willingness to act as the Designated Driver didn’t hurt, either. “Liz, you’ve got your cell phone, right? Charged? Okay, call or text me if you change your mind,” Sonia had ordered, frowning a little as Liz walked off, giggling, her hand in Michael’s.
Liz felt happy, happy, happy. Michael was just enough taller, just enough older, and he smelled luscious when she bumped into him here and there, avoiding other pedestrians on the walk back to his place. It felt a little awkward stopping into the store for condoms, but reassuring too, that Michael was both prepared to be responsible, and did not already have a huge stash of them at his place.
The Castle, oh, the Castle! The wide veranda of historic Castle Green, straight out of a Hollywood movie, the lobby with its sweeping staircase and tile floor; the place was truly enchanting, right down to the open-cage elevator ride to the sixth floor. Liz was half in love with Michael just for living in such a fabulous place, complete with elegant fireplace and friendly orange marmalade cat, even before they walked onto the balcony from the round turret room.
Outside, Michael started from his knees, kissing her hand and working his way up to her neck, as she enjoyed the spectacular view of Pasadena’s sparkling city lights. Later, he’d proved himself True Royalty between the sheets. A wonderful way to get back on the pony, except...
After Michael had kissed her and gone out for a morning jog, Liz pried her eyes open and went snooping in search of aspirin to place on her blue curacao-stained tongue.
She found aspirin, all right, but she also found several prescription bottles for a Rebecca Slick.
The name sounded oddly familiar. Followed by the cat, she went to the built in bookcases. There were a row of books by... Rebecca Slick. Juicy. Slippery. Dripping. Wetness. One of Liz’s favorite authors, a woman in her fifties with a predilection, at least in her erotic fiction, for cougar love.
Michael must be her unfaithful boy-toy. Liz felt suddenly unclean, but didn’t want to further abuse Rebecca’s unwitting hospitality by climbing into her clawfoot bathtub.
The cat sat and looked at her. She looked at the cat. “Manny, what should I do?”
“M-row.”
“Taking that means, I don’t give a rat’s hat for your problems, feed me.”
Liz found an empty enamel dish in the kitchen labeled ‘Manuscript’ on the side. “Manny, is this your bowl?”
“M-Row!” He vocalized louder and rubbed against her ankles as she opened cupboards in search of his food. Might as well feed the poor cat before embarking on the Walk of Shame. Liz poured a bowl of kibbles, to Manny’s delight, thinking that she’d seen bagel places on Colorado, she could hole up in one of those and text Sonia to come pick her up, please.
Back in the bedroom, she sniffed her panties, deciding to stuff them in her purse and go commando. She was just pulling her shirt on when Michael came back in, damp with sweat from his run, carrying a brown paper bag that smelled like it held fresh bagels.
Her tummy rumbled in response to the bagels and the rest of her responded in other ways to Michael’s devastating sexiness.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, looking hurt. “I thought we could have breakfast in bed.”
How dare he look like that? He was the one who... “I thought I’d spare us from getting in trouble with your wife? Girlfriend?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know about Rebecca.”
He burst out laughing. “I don’t think you know what you think you know.”
“I know this is her apartment, not yours.”
“True.”
“Aren’t you the least bit ashamed?”
“Ashamed of bringing you to my aunt’s apartment instead of mine? I guess it is slightly false pretenses, but her view is better, and I have to come up here a couple times a day to feed Manny, while she’s on her book tour.”
Liz opened and closed her mouth. “You live here, too?”
Michael laughed again, leading her into the kitchen where he opened the bag of bagels and began slicing them. “I lived here first. My apartment is on the third floor, but doesn’t have a turret, sorry! Aunt Becky liked The Castle so much that when this apartment became available, she snapped it up.”
“Oh.”
“‘Zat all you have to say?” he teased.
Liz kissed him, then walked towards the bedroom, pulling her shirt back over her head. “I like my bagels toasted with lots of cream cheese, please.”
© Copyright 2011 Beverly Diehl . All rights reserved.
Beverly Diehl discarded most early efforts because they weren't good enough. “I thought the words were supposed to drip from my pen as perfect golden pearls," she says. "Then I discovered rewriting." In addition to erotica, Beverly writes short stories, newsletters, and of course, a blog (or two.)Born in Wisconsin, plus years in Pennsylvania, Beverly lives in Los Angeles with numerous UFO's (UnFinished craft & writing Objects) and beloved fat cat, Metaphor (aka Stinky.)
Posts
Hmmm. But should we trust him? Even now he could be lying.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed this very much, but I wonder, too, if he's just too good to be true. I want to believe he's perfect. I want to believe!
ReplyDeleteWell of course there's more to tell. She wants you to keep reading...
ReplyDeleteGood job, Bev.
He does seem a bit too wonderful, but then again, I like fantasy. I also like the cat.
ReplyDeleteI'd like to give him the benefit of the doubt and say he's a nice good guy. Until proven guilty of something, he's innocent. I mean, there is a few good men out there isn't it. I'd like to know what happens after round two in the bedroom. Is it going anywhere, or was it just a one night stand? Hum...more will be revealed.
ReplyDeleteI am very proud of you sis. Didn't know you had it in you like this....keep it up.
A male writer of erotic fiction who writes as a female AND his erotica turns his female readers on....wow! This lady is in for one fabulous, wild ride. Cute story.
ReplyDeleteLoved it! Had me laughing.
ReplyDelete