Just one Line.

She might not have much use for clothes, but she liked dealing with others through veils.
 
"Ack! Stop getting your spit on me! Virginity is contagious, y'know!"

- Jeanie (who decidedly does NOT want her virginity back)
 
From: Miss Phillips Takes Dictation Ch. 01

"And you still beg and blush very sweetly, it covers your body like fine burgundy."
 
After quietly watching the snow fall on the silent streets for a minute, Clover asked Roxanne, “If you could eat your own pussy, would you do it?”
 
"Boats float."

I'm pretty proud of it.

I tend to dislike my own dialogue. I force things in there. I often make it hit too hard on the nose. This was a screenplay, and that's where I tend to suck so terribly. Never enough room for things, ya know?

So the protagonist is wrapping up a... seemingly unimportant discussion with his young nephew, and they get hung up on - the other brother drops the notebook top down and ends the call from the other side, just because. Just because, he can.

And we miiiiiiight know enough about the protagonist at that point to feel it hurt. It's not for certain how the audience might feel that.

But he says that line, to himself, rather simply - and then grabs a set of keys (with an anchor) and we then see him in "the boat" (his self-made cruiser) where he heads off for... something more obvious and persistent.

There is an interlude there. Movement with music.

Within the screenplay itself, it's only that line.

But it's the kind of line... I'm begging to be noticed. Cuz it opens up a whole lotta other dependent elements if you can. Just please see that at least. Alas…

I've never made a dime off my music nor my writing. So. It didn't work.

But I remain proud of that line.

I know that I nailed it.

It’s just the truth.


Boats float.

And they always will…
 
On the long drive to Ethan's she gave him a family-friendly account of her visit to Kai'ulau—heavy on the intrigue and the business stuff, skipping lightly over her three-ways and gangbangs.
 
From Back to the Future I...

"I couldn't help myself," Lorraine said, sliding her hand down his chest, "And when I saw your, uh, thing, well... I might have touched it.
 
Later, she could not recall who had reached for whom.

Is that really, really bad? I'm just glad to have gotten to the sex in this chapter in under five hundred words. LOL
 
From Can Do Ep. 13 (pending):
I am Trinity Stone, The Hurricane, she intoned to herself. Like a hurricane, I rose from a faint breeze to a storm that makes people run and hide, leveling all in its way. I fear nothing, all fear me. I will be champion. Nothing survives The Hurricane. She stopped, suddenly embarrassed, then grinned broadly. Aloud she said, “Yeah, I am the fucking Hurricane.”
 
Tag not working?

From Can Do Ep. 13 (pending):
I am Trinity Stone, The Hurricane, she intoned to herself. Like a hurricane, I rose from a faint breeze to a storm that makes people run and hide, leveling all in its way. I fear nothing, all fear me. I will be champion. Nothing survives The Hurricane. She stopped, suddenly embarrassed, then grinned broadly. Aloud she said, “Yeah, I am the fucking Hurricane.”

++++

Your Work link is NOT working. The message says the server cannot be found. I tried a PM, but that says you are not set up for private messages. So ... hope you see this one day and find out how to fix the connection to your stories.
 
Later, she could not recall who had reached for whom.

Is that really, really bad? I'm just glad to have gotten to the sex in this chapter in under five hundred words. LOL

What about:

She could not remember later which of them had reached for the other.

It seems less awkwardly formal.
 
It was not a declaration of filial love, but a man's wounded protest of loyalty to a woman.
 
Up in the deep, suspended loft was a platform bed of reclaimed wood that Ethan had built to suit himself. It was the size of Kansas.
 
"That woman will testify to her own soundness of mind in any court of the land, and she'll do it with an IQ of 140 and a very wide smile."
 
'Alright, I fully realize this is not your normal, garden-variety kink obsession.'
 
One arm around her waist and the other behind her shoulders, Ethan sat unmoving, uncertain, coiled and still as a runner waiting for the pistol.
 
In the half-light, his long body revealed itself as a shadowed terrain of sharp-edged hollows and as-yet-unweathered heights.

A mite florid, I suppose.
 
On impulse, she went up on the balls of her feet, one knee turned in, and lifted her honey-blonde hair in a loose handful the way she imagined a model might pose. She stuck out her tongue and he grinned. Being silly with him freed her.
 
The apologetic wheeze of the overtaxed air conditioner was like the whistle of a steam locomotive against the stillness of the empty, fallow land beyond their high window.
 
From the Christmas themed Milf story I'm working on.

“Evelyn's nickname is Christmas Eve, because she’s the gift that keeps on giving.”
 
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