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I’m stretching at my sleeves as she slows the car down for some traffic lights, my fingers growing numb from pulling the fabric up to my face. I have my legs hugged up to me, my feet on the seat, trying to focus on the man talking on the radio while she holds back her laughter.

“No, no—“ I stammer, my hands flying defensively into the air as she turns to the left.


“No! Not this one.” 

I cringe as I glance up at the big red letters, the ultra-tacky plastic lips flashing on and off at the left side of the roof. Once the car has stopped I grip her hands from the steering wheel, a slight whimper escaping me.

“What is it?” she says, half laughing.

“I think my Mom’s been here,” I murmur, turning crimson. 

“Are you serious?” she scoffs, glancing at the shop window and back at me.

I glare at her, squeezing her hands. “I found like, eight receipts from here at Christmas last year. I mean, why would you buy eight different—“

“Shush!” She puts her hands on my mouth. “I don’t want to know.”

“Well, I don’t want to go inside.”

“Jen, it’s not as if it’s you shopping here with her.”


“They’ve probably redecorated,” she says, kissing my hands, “and whatever she bought won’t be there anymore. And I seriously, seriously doubt that the staff will recognize you as her daughter.”

She smiles, pulling me in for a kiss. 

She laughs gently, brushing her nose to mine while whispering against my lips: “Unless she’s like a regular customer. That makes the situation a bit different—”


“What?” she sneers, kissing my lips again, “I’m just joking.”

“Joke about something else,” I say, leaning over to open the door. There is only one other car in the lot at the far corner, rain drizzling in through its half-open window. “Are we doing this or not?”

“You make it sound like we’re on some mission.”

I grin as I step out the door, leaning over the roof of the car, my eyes locked to hers. “Mission Vegan Strap-on!” I fake-whisper across the blue-painted metal. 

She giggles and walks around the car, holding one hand to my waist while brushing my hair to my shoulder. “Oh, right. Fucking you with leather would be an abomination.” She smirks, kissing up the back of my neck.

“And it can’t look realistic. Ugh.”

“So what do you want, pink with glitter?”

“No, that’s too girly.”

“But you won’t be able to see it!”


She turns me around, resting her forehead to mine. “My baby’s a little picky.”

I blush, hugging her close. “Sorry.”

She laughs, speaking against my skin: “Don’t be sorry. It’s your birthday. And the pink one was a joke anyway. I’d die before wearing that.” She kisses along my jaw while holding me tight, pressing her warm body to mine. “I love you.”

My heart flutters, sending hot waves through me. I smile, burying my face in her neck “I love you too.” 


Let’s get all steamy up in here and write about sex.

But you know us. There’s a twist.

You can’t write about the act. I don’t want to read about any heaving bosoms or girded manhood (please tell me someone else giggled besides me).

There are so many other possibilities. And I hope you have fun finding them.

Limit is 600 words. It can be fiction or non-fiction. Come back here and link up Friday!!


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