TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "STICKY"

 

Welcome! This week is another episode of "The Kicker's Story, Part 1" and from Dale's point-of-view. They are getting ready for bed, but not together. We get to peek at the other side of Robbie Anthony. Find the great Tuesday Tales stories HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

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“They move on? Don’t you move on?”

“Not usually. Sometimes. If I see the gleam of babies, strollers, and big mortgages in a woman’s eyes, I cool it down.”

She nodded. “I see. So women who want forever, commitment – they get tossed.”

“I try to figure that out before we even get here. As I said. I don’t like to break hearts, or lead anyone on, but I’m not domestic in any way. I never pretend I am. They know that.”

“And that makes what you do okay? Because you’re up front about it?”

“Sure beats lying. You’d be surprised how many women are satisfied with just a quick affair and then they move on –looking for husband material.”

“Don’t you get into any sticky situations?”

“Occasionally.” He left the room and returned with one of his flannel shirts. “You can sleep in this. If you’re comfortable.”

“Ok, thanks.”

 Robbie opened up the sofa, retrieved a quilt from the bedroom, along with two pillows and made up the bed. Dale helped.

“There. Okay?”

Dale peeked into the bedroom. “Is this your quilt?”

“Yeah, but I’m usually too warm anyway and kick it off.”

“Thanks.”

After a quick stop in the bathroom, he returned. His cheeks reddened. “Here. I keep extra toothbrushes around. For emergencies.”

Dale laughed. “Emergencies?” She cocked an eyebrow. “I bet.”

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "MINT"

 

Howdy! Welcome to Tuesday Tales, where writers write fiction stories to word prompts. This week the word prompt is "mint." We have another episode of "The Kicker's Story, Part One." Again from Dale's pov. 

Don't forget to read the other stories. You'll find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

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“Seriously. A kicker’s career can be real short. You know. One injury, a badly turned ankle, and you’re done.”

“True.”

“I don’t have any other skills, so I have to save money. It’s gotta take me through my old age.”

He pulled up in front of a modest five story apartment building, not what she expected. He parked on the street. When he unlocked his front door, her nerves kicked up. What had she done? She turned, but he grabbed her arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“This is a mistake. Please take me home. I’ll deal with the car tomorrow,” she said, staring at his hand gripping her arm.

He dropped it. “Hey, look. It’s okay. Really. Honestly. Come on. Don’t be silly. If you’re late tomorrow, you’ll get docked.”

Robbie was right. The General Manager was a real stickler about showing up on time.  Trapped, her eyes grew moist.

“Hey! Tears? Come on. I’m not the big bad wolf, I promise.” He took her in his arms. “You’re trembling. You’re really scared of me?”

“Uh, no. Yes. Well, maybe.”

Robbie held her close and stroked her hair. She nestled her face into his shoulder. Not usually one to lose her cool, Dale struggled to keep it together. Robbie led her into his apartment.

Just as he said, it was a spacious one-bedroom with a sofabed in the living room. Dale took a deep breath and let it out. At least he told the truth about that. She bet it was in mint condition, too. Most of the women who stayed there sure didn’t sleep in the living room!

She chuckled.

“What’s funny?”

“Nothing. You told me the truth.”

“Of course. Why would I lie?”

“Don’t you lie to women all the time?”

He shrugged. “I don’t call it lying. I tell them what they want to hear.”

“That you’re the love of their life?”

“No. That they are the only one – and in that moment, they are.”

Dale whistled. “Wow. That’s pretty outrageous.”

“It’s true. I’m not thinking about other women when I’m with whoever I’m with.”

“Really?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Rhonda works in a beauty salon and likes cheese. Valerie is a paralegal with red hair who loves hamburgers.”

“You’ve categorized them by what they do and what they like to eat?”

He shook his head. “You’ve got this all wrong. I’m not a man who destroys women. I love women.”

“Lots and lots of women.” She stared at him.

“Is there a limit on how many women a man can love? Is there a set number. And after that you become, what?”

“A man-whore?”

He laughed. “I don’t break hearts. Most of the women get their little thrill having an affair with a famous football player. When they discover I’m just ordinary, they move on.”

TUESDAY TALES - PICTURE PROMPT WEEK - "THE KICKER'S STORY, PART 1"

 

Howdy and welcome! 

It's picture prompt week where we write  to a picture and keep our stories 300 words or less. This week we have another episode of "The Kicker's Story, Part 1" from Dale's point-of-view. Do you agree with her? Don't forget to read the wonderful stories by other authors. Find them HERE. 

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She locked her car and slid into the front seat next to Robbie.

“Would you mind staying at my place? I have practice tomorrow afternoon. I can take you right to your car and change the tire, instead of picking you up and then coming back to change the tire.”

Dale shook her head. She knew it. Here it comes, the seduction. And she was ready to give him a second chance, well, almost ready.

“Forget it. Drop me at the nearest gas station,” she said.

“No, wait! I promise to leave you alone. I have a pull-out couch I got for visits with my mother. I promise, it’s totally innocent.”

She eyed his face. He looked honest, but this was Robbie Anthony. No way.

“Really. It would save me a lot of time. If you want me to drop you at a gas station, I will. But I don’t think it’s safe.”

“And spending the night at your place is?” She cocked an eyebrow.

“Completely. I promise.” He raised his right hand.

She couldn’t argue with his logic. If he meant it, his place was safer than a gas station she didn’t know late at night.

“Okay.” Her nerves kicked up. She didn’t believe him but what other option did she have?

He started the car. “You know, Dale, I admire you. You’re not like other girls.”

“Really?” She raised both eyebrows.

“No. You’re not looking to trap me. You drive an inexpensive car, dress normal, not flashy.”

“Yeah, well I am normal. What’s the big deal?”

“A lot of girls are looking for a sugar daddy. Someone to blow a lot of money on them. I don’t do that.”

“No? Then how do you get all those women?”

He laughed and blushed. “Charm.”

Now it was her turn to laugh.

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PLANT"

 

Howdy! We have another episode of "The Kicker, Part 1" with Dale's point-of-view. Don't miss the great stories from my fellow authors. Find their work HERE. Thanks for stopping by.

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At least he didn’t flood her phone with ridiculous, salacious texts. Instead she got, “Good morning.” “Goodnight.” And “How was your day?” From Robbie. Really? Did he actually have a human side?

She’d send one-word replies and never text him first. Annoyed with herself for opening the door, she gave him short shrift – minimal replies, and ignoring any frivolous texts. He wasn’t as flirtatious as she expected, but seemed to want to become friends. Hah! Friends? A woman become friends with the mad seducer? It was beyond her imagination.

“How come you don’t answer me?” he'd asked.

“Busy. Working,” she replied. He needed to get the message. Just because he wanted to turn over a new leaf, she had a long memory and would not be letting her guard down any time soon. “Maybe in the next millennium,” she muttered to herself, stuffing her phone back into her gym bag. She planted her feet squarely in the "Don't trust Robbie Anthony" camp and refused to budge.

Then it happened. On a cold, windy night in November, her car got a flat tire. It was dark and rain threatened. The last thing she wanted to do was change a flat. Since she’s never changed one before, she had no clue if she could manage alone.

She checked her bank balance. Uh, no extra money in there to pay a tow truck and a garage to change it. Frustrated, alone, and vulnerable, she fought back panic and tears.

“Don’t be a dumbass. Crying won’t help.”

A flash of headlights in her rearview mirror struck terror into her heart. Even small towns like this one had serial killers. Frozen with fear, she made sure the doors were locked.

She jumped at a knock on the window. Terrified, she glanced over to see Robbie Anthony standing outside.

“Flat tire? Come on.” He motioned for her to open the door.

She rolled down the window.

“Let me take you home. I can change it tomorrow when it’s light. I’ll drive you back to pick it up.”

Dale sighed in relief. Never had she ever thought she’d be happy to see him. Boy, was she wrong!

That's all until next week! 

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "Orange"

 

Howdy! We have another episode of "The Kicker's Story, Part 1" - but this time we have Dale's perspective! When you've finished reading, hop on over to the other great stories on Tuesday Tales HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

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Dale arrived at the stadium early. She yawned, tired from her night moonlighting at The Savage Beast, Carla and Trunk Mahoney’s bar and restaurant.

In the massage room, the flashing light on the landline indicated a message. She raised her eyebrows and pressed the button.

After listening, Dale stared at the device. Could that really have been Robbie Anthony, seducer extraordinaire? Unable to trust her ears, she played the message two more times. What happened? Had he actually turned into a human being instead of an insatiable animal? No, not possible.

Should she give him her cell number or simply ghost him?

“Ghost him,” she said out loud. After opening her locker and hanging up her coat she wondered.

“Ask Carla,” she muttered, searching her bag for her orange
phone.

“Dale? What is it?” Carla moaned into the phone.

“Oh, God. I woke you up. I’m so sorry.”

“What’s the problem? Trouble?”

Dale explained about Robbie’s message.

“Should I give him my cell number? My brain says ‘no’, but then again, doesn’t everyone deserve a second chance?”

“Sure, why not? I know you have a thing for him, even though you don’t admit it.”

“I do not!”

“Come on, Dale. It’s me, Carla. If he turns back into a creep you can always block him.”

“True. Okay.”

Not ready to actually talk to him, she sent him a text.

“Here’s my number. But if you don’t behave like a gentleman, I’ll block you. No dick pics, no crude language and stuff. One strike and you’re gone.” She typed as she said it out loud. Sounded harsh, but he deserved it. What could he expect with the way he’d behaved.

Okay, so maybe Carla was right, and she was curious – just curious – about going on a date with him. Remembering what an obvious mover he was, she made a face.

“What am I doing?”

She shook her head and hit “send” anyway. After all, what did she have to lose?