Just out of interest...

[adamzapple]

I'm taking a chance here with this but I've developed the bad habit of abandoning stories before I finish them. I'm not sure what happens. I lose interest. I start something then look at it next day and decide it's not as good as I'd hoped. Something like that.

So I thought for once I'd put one up here. This is all I've written so far. Not sure exactly where it's going. I tend to make it up as I go along. I'd just like to know if it's the kind of thing anyone here would like to read? (Assuming I ever finish it). Is it interesting? Does it suck? Too long, not long enough? Boring? I don't know. Whatever. I'd appreciate your thoughts.

Thanks, in advance,
Adam.







1


"Dad, have you seen my black mini? The stretchy one?"

Gary Westmore was out of work. He was making himself useful, trying to keep busy.
"Mom said you'd been doing the laundry," Annette explained.

He was loading the dish washer as his nineteen year old daughter came sleepily into the kitchen. It struck him as funny the way she came to him now whenever she'd mislaid something. A month ago, before he'd been laid off, it was his wife, Louise, who knew where everything was. Had he been promoted or demoted? He wasn't sure.

"Have you tried your bedroom floor?" he said. It was kind of a running joke. Like a lot of young women Annette had a tendency to leave her clothes scattered all over the floor of her bedroom. It wasn't something he approved of and he'd spoken to her about it a couple of times. For a few days there would be an improvement and she'd make an effort to pick up after herself but it never lasted.
"Already looked there," she said.

Annette was just out of bed even though it was almost midday. Gary had been up for hours. Old habits died hard. He was used to getting up at 5am for work. Even without setting the alarm he still awoke early.
"Your mother hasn't borrowed it?" he said. It wasn't until he'd started taking charge of the laundry that he'd realised just how often they wore each others clothes.
Annette yawned and shook her head. Her long dark hair was still messy from sleep. She was wearing an oversize T-shirt.

"Well, there's some washing the in drier," he said. He was going to add that it might be in there but Annette was already turning away.
"Okay. If you find it, can you let me know?" she said, stifling another yawn. "I think I'll go back to bed."

Gary stared after her retreating, shapely figure with an expression of disbelief and amusement. Sure, he thought, it's all of ten steps to the drier but you go ahead. Get some sleep. He could have said something but he didn't. Since he'd been out of work he'd noticed that the more you did for people the more they took advantage. Louise was getting the same way. When he'd first been laid off she'd continued to cook the meals and take care of the grocery shopping but since he'd taken it on himself to help out around the house she seemed more than willing to let him do it.

There's something wrong with this picture he thought. But five minutes later, after he'd loaded the dishwasher, he opened the drier and started tugging the clothes out. What else was he going to do? He had to do something to pass the time.



2



The next day was Saturday and as usual Gary rose early. He shaved and showered. He ate breakfast. He lit a cigarette.
As he looked out of the kitchen window he thought about the shame of being out of work. It happened all the time and he wasn't the only one by far but that didn't make it any easier to accept. In the past he'd always looked forward to the weekends but now all the days seemed the same. It felt as if something had been taken from him. Instead of being out on the road all week he stayed at home, he cleaned the house, he washed clothes. He'd heard about house-husbands, those guys who stayed home permanently. It wasn't for him. No way. It already felt as if he was losing his identity. He had a niggling fear at the back of his mind that his wife and daughter no longer respected him. Not that he was big on respect, he didn't dominate them the way some guys did. It was just a guy needed to know where he stood, he had to have some pride, and women needed to know who wore the trousers.
He put out his cigarette and looked at the sky. It was clear and blue, not a cloud in sight. A good day for drying the washing outside, he thought. And then he caught himself mid-thought, already planning how he'd spend his day. More laundry, more cleaning.
"Shit," he whispered, then he smiled ruefully to himself. Something had to change. He couldn't go on like this.

"Hey honey," Louise said. She came into the kitchen wearing her dressing gown. Her feet were bare. "Is the coffee ready?"
Outside the washing was already half dry on the clothes line. Gary watched her but she didn't notice. She's getting lazy, he thought. She knows I'll take care of it so she doesn't give it a thought any more.
"I need to get a job," he said, when they were sitting at the table.
"You and a couple of million others," she told him. "I wouldn't hold your breath if I were you."
She took a deep breath and sighed as he watched her light a cigarette. She hadn't brushed her hair. Sometimes the just-out-of-bed look turned him on, but not today. It was mid-morning and she was only just getting up. She couldn't even brush her hair before she came down? Her dressing gown gaped at the front exposing fully half of one large, pale breast but she didn't even notice.
Gary wondered when she'd started getting so slovenly about her appearance.

"I'm serious," he told her.
"We're getting by."
"That's not the point."
She looked at him thoughtfully then turned her head aside to direct a stream of cigarette smoke towards the open door. For a moment he thought she was going to say something intelligent, something reassuring. Tell him not to worry, he'd find something. In the meantime she wanted him to know how much she appreciated his help around the house, the way he pitched in and took care of everything.
He waited. They'd been married for twenty three years. She had to see he wasn't happy. He wasn't cut out for this kind of life. It was what he needed to hear. But when she did speak it wasn't to say anything like that.
"Before I forget, did you fill the car yesterday?" she asked. "Annette and I are going to the mall this afternoon. Retail therapy. Do you want to come?"


3


By three o'clock that afternoon he was alone in the house. No, he'd told Louise, he absolutely did not want to go the mall.
"I'd rather stick needles in my eyes," he told the empty kitchen.
It was strange, he thought, how your feelings for a person could change over a comparatively short space of time. He loved his wife, he loved his daughter. Always had. But lately they annoyed him more and more.
He smoked a cigarette he didn't want. That was another thing, the more time he spent at home, the more cigarettes he smoked. He sat at the kitchen table, restless, irritated by the way things had turned out. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't anyone's fault. Shit happened. But that didn't make him feel any better.

Later, he moved aimlessly through the silent house, in and out of sunlit rooms, looking for something to do. Sometimes it was good to be alone, to have time to think, but it wasn't so good if all your thoughts were negative and self-defeating. He climbed the stairs and without thinking picked up a blouse that Louise or Annette had dropped on the landing. They were both as bad as each other when it came to picking up after themselves. It was something he'd never noticed before.
He paused outside Annette's bedroom. The door was ajar and the curtains were still closed and gave her bedroom a secret air. Did he really want to go in there? It was chock full of her things. He'd been in there before but it always made him feel uneasy to see her clothes and underwear lying around. Made him feel like some kind of voyeur. He could never understand why anyone would step out of their dirty panties then leave them lying on the floor. What was that all about? How difficult was it to pick them up and toss them in the laundry hamper?
He'd been embarassed to handle Annette's underwear when he'd first started taking over the chores. He'd tried not to look too closely at the stains in the crotch. He knew some guys got off on that kind of thing but he never had. A guy who'd sniff his daughter's dirty underwear had to be kind of sick, he'd always thought.

It might have been the silent house, the fact that he was alone there, or the way he was feeling just now about his wife and daughter that made him go into her bedroom. The door swung closed behind him and he stood in the half light by her unmade bed. He didn't see how anyone could sleep in a room like this, how did she expect to find anything? Discarded clothes hung from the furniture. The dressing table drawers were open. He could smell her perfume in the still air. As his eyes became more accustomed to the poor light he saw discarded items of underwear lying on the floor. Panties and bras that shone palely in the shadows beside her bed.
This isn't me, he thought, but he picked up one of her bras and admired the intricate lace pattern of the cups. I'm only doing this because I'm bored he told himself, discarding the bra and choosing a pair of skimpy white panties. He held them up to the faint light that fell through the curtains. There was nothing to them. They were just a scrap of material. He turned them inside out and studied the crotch. Handling them wasn't making him hard. He wasn't surprised or disappointed. He hadn't expected to be aroused. He sniffed the crotch tentatively, feeling a mixture of shame and guilt, feeling slightly ridiculous. A little ashamed. It was just an experiment, he told himself. He inhaled deeply, his senses alert, but all he detected was a faint, lingering hint of a slightly acrid smell.

Nothing, he thought. He wasn't aroused. He was about to drop the panties on the floor where he'd found them when he paused. He'd just had an idea. There was no one home. No one would ever know.

Still standing, with the door still closed, he opened his jeans and took out his cock. Watching his reflection in the dusty mirror over the dressing table he wrapped Annette's panties round his quickly growing erection. His masturbated mechanically, without thinking about anything. The mirror showed his reflection from the waist down. A guy beating off with his daughter's white panties glimmering faintly in the gloom of her bedroom. The power of his ejaculation took him by surprise. He caught it in her panties but some of it was on his fingers. Breathing hard his movements slowed and he looked down at the mess he'd made.


4

 

[PacoFear]

Adamz,

You've got an incredibly introspective piece there. It reads well and feels authentic. There's an audience for it, it's just smaller. Frankly, my more introspective stories tend to be my lower rated ones. Readers crave action. For many, less action equals "not as good." Readers crave "feel good" stuff too and, so far, this one's kind of a downer.

I think I've been down your road before - you get yourself inside a character's head (it's usually the broken, sad ones) and start what one of my friend's calls "their song of pain." He gave me some great advice - "Don't sing the whole frickin' song of pain. Just hum a few bars here and there. The reader can fill in the rest. Your job is to keep your story moving."

If you're boring yourself with your own writing (hey, we all do it), do what I do. Stop. Put it down. Pick it up a week later and move onto the next scene. The part that seemed suspect can be edited down later.

Just my penny. YMMV.

-PF

 

[adamzapple]

Thanks Paco, I appreciate it. You've made a good point. I may have been boring myself for years trying to write this stuff.

I always start with an idea for a situation, then I get a character, male or female, it doesn't matter, but THEN, when I try to elaborate, the story almost never leads where I optimistically imagined it would go.

I need to think about this.

I'm not especially interested in getting little red 'H's, but I would like to feel happier with what I write.

Thanks again.

 

[Mrtouf]

I liked it. The descriptions give a good sense of being there, but they don't rattle on for ages, they are well-paced. The viewpoint is well-written, by the end of that piece it almost feels like we're over his shoulder.

When you write a story, it doesn't always go according to plan. There's usually an "ah, but" that needs dealing with, e.g. Ah, but if I do that then it isn't consistent with what I established earlier. If you're coming up against that you have nothing to worry about except figuring out what the story needs to be consistent, or believable, or whatever standard that you're not meeting to generate an "ah, but" in your reading of it.

If resolving these makes you happy with your writing, then that's what to do.

You could try writing an outline of your story to keep it on track. Or if not an outline then at least something that passes as a whiteboard list for you to expand on your original idea with anything that comes to mind, because your original idea is not complicated enough to make a story. You can then go back and strikethrough something if you try it and you aren't happy with it.

 

[adamzapple]

Thanks for your help. Part of the problem is that I feel obliged to establish character and motive for what comes next, but I'm not sure if that 'fits' well with these kinds of stories. I find you have to kind of juggle things and give some details but not too many or the story gets bogged down.

I want stories to at least sound plausible, as if it could happen, but I find more and more it doesn't necessarily work that way with erotic stories. There's a balance to find and I'm missing it somewhere.

Saying that, I still enjoy trying to write them. Thanks for your help.

 

[Anita__O_Gasm]

I never imagined a man being thrust into the position of the unseen and unheard domestic servant, but I can tell you, as the once very lucrative provider, that when any circumstance circumvents a career bound individuals' routine, there will surely be hell to pay. No one can predict when, or how, but it is inevitable that the head of the house will eventually come to rue the loss of aforementioned independence and provider status.

As a matter of fact, upon reading the OP, many thoughts instantly flooded my mind, which I had to put aside, so that I could go start a load of my son's laundry, and prepare to wash dishes. Then I smacked my forehead as it hit me, I am Gary.

Gary is obviously struggling with numerous demons, which Louise is all too oblivious and egocentric to key into. The first question you need to answer, is whether her negligence and his compromised self-importance will be their undoing. Is Gary going have his tryst, and somehow be led back to his wife, resulting in a reprise of their love, or is he in a downward spiral, in which he will venture further into debauchery as his head bangs against every spinning rung?

The second pertinent question, is whether his curiosity in Annette is brewed only out of his boredom, and awe at her nonchalant approach to life in general, or does Gary truly have unexplored romantic feelings toward his daughter?

I predict, from the evidence supplied, that Gary is definitely headed for an affair. It's the next natural step in the cognitive process of a once powerful being, who loses their sense of self. Are Annette's actions going to spur a father-daughter moment? Will it happen once, and be immediately regretted by both, or will it develop a bond between both, rendering Lois useless and exempt from the marriage? Will Gary's masturbation into his daughter's panties be taboo enough to drive him to seek adventure elsewhere, propelling him to seek solace in a, yet undefined, third woman?

I think at any rate, a good read would have Gary facing many more encounters with both Louise and Annette, before he either makes a move on Annette, or seeks solace in a complete stranger. Regardless of whether Gary and Louise remain together in the end, he has already dipped his toe into the quicksand. The only way out is through!

I, for one, am anxious to read the long version of the events yet to unfold. My only warning is that Gary would not behave spontaneously, whatever his ultimate course of action. He is obviously and extraordinarily introspective and thoughtful man. A quick jerk-off is just that, a release of angst in liquid form. An affair goes much deeper than that.

Approached with diligence, there has to be a best-seller list out there that would be proud to have this title among it's ranks, and a sea of emasculated men, (and a few women,) who can relate.

Never give up. You have a talent which cannot be learned. You're born with it, or you're not. Keep writing!

 

[sr71plt]

Wonder what the odds are that Adam has been waiting around for over four years for this response to his thread. (How do folks manage to scrape these old threads up from the past? And why?)

 

[Anita__O_Gasm]

Wonder what the odds are that Adam has been waiting around for over four years for this response to his thread. (How do folks manage to scrape these old threads up from the past? And why?)

Because he sent me a PM with an RP idea which couldn't have been more inaccurate for me. Then, lo and behold, he tried again and nailed it!

Unlike most peolpe who fuck first and ask questions later, I actually read every thread a lister starts before I become involved with them. This is a complex and compelling story idea, and I don't see an expiration date anywhere on the thread. If he gave up, it was likely because there wasn't a useful response before now.

Would a person dying of a disease for four years refute treatment, because treatment waited four years after the inception of the disease to be developed?

Try practicing the first line of your own signature.

 

[sr71plt]

Guess you told me, huh? (If you post it to the forum, it isn't a private communication.)

Picking up years old threads as if they were asking yesterday is still weird, hon.

 

[Anita__O_Gasm]

Guess you told me, huh? (If you post it to the forum, it isn't a private communication.)

Picking up years old threads as if they were asking yesterday is still weird, hon.

That's like saying that trying to decode a centuries forgotten language is wierd just because it hasn't been attempted in centuries.

 

[robertreams]

I like it! But I need more!

 

[lovecraft68]

Guess you told me, huh? (If you post it to the forum, it isn't a private communication.)

Picking up years old threads as if they were asking yesterday is still weird, hon.

But yet here you are posting on it! Because even though its 4 years old its still a thread and you must weigh in!

And who taught you how to speak to people? "Hon" is a condescending term to a woman unless you know them personally.

But I forgot you don't get out much do you?

 

[JAMESBJOHNSON]

But yet here you are posting on it! Because even though its 4 years old its still a thread and you must weigh in!

And who taught you how to speak to people? "Hon" is a condescending term to a woman unless you know them personally.

But I forgot you don't get out much do you?

Goddamn! Give the PC a rest, will yuh!

Youre like Miss Manners anymore.

 

[adamzapple]

I forgot I even wrote this. As for where it was going, I have no idea, I must have blanked it. Actually, I was probably making it up as I went along, might have had some vague ideas, but nothing definite.

I can't plot a story in advance, rough idea in my head, actually, can't even work that way; a situation, first, then see where it leads. Often nowhere, but I figure the ones that don't lead anywhere or gather any impetus, it's safe to let die. They're kind of stillborn, anyway. Never really had any life to start with.

This one? the words are dead, is how I felt about it then, and how I feel about it now. Dead on the page? D'you see it too? Don't see it? It's okay. It's flat writing, I think. Something something.

Anyway, appreciate the new comments, absolutely does not make me want to revive it, though. It'd be like trying to give mouth to mouth to a corpse.

 

[lovecraft68]

Goddamn! Give the PC a rest, will yuh!

Youre like Miss Manners anymore.

I am simply instructing Pilot the recluse who hasn't left his office in a decade how to speak to people.

And this is Mr Manners to you.

 

[AMoveableBeast]

But yet here you are posting on it! Because even though its 4 years old its still a thread and you must weigh in!

And who taught you how to speak to people? "Hon" is a condescending term to a woman unless you know them personally.

But I forgot you don't get out much do you?

I say "hon" all the time. I also say "sweetie" and "darling". Then again, I call guys "pal", "chief" and "buddy". I don't feel the least bit condescending. I just want to be cordial and I don't know your freaking name yet. "Sir", isn't always appropriate, too formal in many atmospheres, and a misplaced "ma'am" or "miss" can get you slapped in the face just as easily as "hon". "Sugar tits", however, is a bit too far anywhere outside of Texas.

 

[lovecraft68]

I say "hon" all the time. I also say "sweetie" and "darling". Then again, I call guys "pal", "chief" and "buddy". I don't feel the least bit condescending. I just want to be cordial and I don't know your freaking name yet. "Sir", isn't always appropriate, too formal in many atmospheres, and a misplaced "ma'am" or "miss" can get you slapped in the face just as easily as "hon". "Sugar tits", however, is a bit too far anywhere outside of Texas.

Online has a different tone and let's face it, it depends who it comes from.

Its one thing if its part of your "speech pattern" and you say it to everyone. For example, I do the "buddy" thing with guys and I do say hon once in awhile to women I've known for a long time.

But when it comes in the tone of one speaking down to another which is what SR does to everyone here is is condescending and arrogant.

I guess he didn't have to learn manners at the job his father in law got him.

 

[sr71plt]

I got my job through my father, actually. Our line of work is hereditary--because of all of the security clearances involved. (Of course I had to get two masters degrees to qualify. I didn't have time to have a failed marriage, failed business, or work in a warehouse like LC.)

But Lovecraft is just being his usual two-faced assholery stalker self here. He's got to work his obsession every day to take his mind off his failed life.

 

[lovecraft68]

What Pilot-who supposedly has me and everyone else on ignore, doesn't want everyone to know is his old car growing up had a plate that said "IOdad1"

The one he has now says "wifeys"