Welcome to Flash Fiction...A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words. We've made it to August and that means school starts soon. I'm both dreading it and looking forward to it. :P I'm part of a fantastic group of exceptional authors who do a monthly flash fiction blogs. All of them are excellent writers and I highly recommend visiting their blogs. This time the story was inspired by the following image and brought up some words to an upcoming sequel to DARWIN'S EVOLUTION.
Oshi stared at the image in a simple blond wood frame on the wall of the gallery and wished he could step into the photograph. A woman in a red dress stood in an opening between the trees, her hair caught in a corona of sunlight, her hands reaching upwards as if to cradle the light. Her beauty called to him, making him wish he could shuck this tight man’s suit and step into his more flowing feminine clothing.
I could be her.
A hand landed on his shoulder in a hard, masculine greeting. “What do you think of the art, Oshi-san?”
“It’s very elegant, Yaku-san.” Oshi nodded, bowing slightly. “A true treasure trove of quality.”
“I’m very happy to hear you say that.” Yaku bowed, pleasure shining in his eyes. “I hope you’ll convey that to Riku Yamamoto when you see him next. It would be a great honor for me.”
Oshi let the muscles around his mouth and eyes soften in an approximation of willingness. The last thing he wanted to do was convey anything to the leader of the local Yakuza organization here in Seattle, but given his deep undercover work for the FBI, he’d been highly placed and had some of the leadership’s ears.
“I would be happy to pass along my observations, Yaku-san.”
“Excellent. I was sorry to hear he couldn’t attending the show’s opening tonight.” Yaku’s voice remained pleasant, but an undercurrent of disappointed petulance ran through it.
“Apologies. Mr. Yamamoto had an issue come up last moment. He sent me in his stead. I hope it’s not taken as an insult.”
Oshi tipped his head. Yamamoto might not be as old as some of the Yakuza bosses, but he didn’t have the taste for this kind of art. He much preferred fucking underage girls, particularly those from the families of his minions to keep them in line. Oshi’s stomach threatened to return the hors d’oeuvres but he clenched his teeth behind his bland façade.
“Of course, of course. I’m so grateful he sent a representative at all.”
Yaku turned his head to scan the crowd as if trying to find something to scatter his embarrassment over the faux pas. Oshi lost interest in the man’s obsequiousness and moved on to the next image in the gallery. Unfortunately, Yaku trailed in his wake like an overexcited puppy. Oshi refused to acknowledge him as he perused the art, damn near making an entire circuit around the room before something stopped him.
Correction. Someone.
The man was tall and broad, broader than even Nobu and Taka, Riku’s usual enforcers. His hair had been cut into the high-and-tight style favored by the American military and he stood with the same relaxed-but-ready confidence of a warrior. Samurai.
Oshi’s mouth watered and his heart thundered in his chest as the Samurai met his gaze. Glorious dark eyes set in a round face under thick, elegant brows watched him with awareness, and Oshi resisted the urge to preen. Hot damn that man’s sexy. He made Oshi feel positively dainty and the urge to change into his more feminine clothing returned.
“Yaku, who is that man?” Oshi pointed out the hot stranger in the black suit with a silver silk tie.
Yaku frowned as he followed Oshi’s gaze. “He’s our new security guard. He was hired for this opening by Nishimura, I think. Weren’t you informed?”
“I was not, but I should very much like to meet him. Now.”
“Of course, Oshi-san.” Yaku bowed before he darted away to where the tall, broad beauty stood at parade rest.
Oh yes, he’s definitely military. And I want him. He just hoped the man wasn’t adverse to male company.
~~~~~~~
There you have it. Stop by the following other flash fiction authors below. Happy reading and happy August!
I could be her.
A hand landed on his shoulder in a hard, masculine greeting. “What do you think of the art, Oshi-san?”
“It’s very elegant, Yaku-san.” Oshi nodded, bowing slightly. “A true treasure trove of quality.”
“I’m very happy to hear you say that.” Yaku bowed, pleasure shining in his eyes. “I hope you’ll convey that to Riku Yamamoto when you see him next. It would be a great honor for me.”
Oshi let the muscles around his mouth and eyes soften in an approximation of willingness. The last thing he wanted to do was convey anything to the leader of the local Yakuza organization here in Seattle, but given his deep undercover work for the FBI, he’d been highly placed and had some of the leadership’s ears.
“I would be happy to pass along my observations, Yaku-san.”
“Excellent. I was sorry to hear he couldn’t attending the show’s opening tonight.” Yaku’s voice remained pleasant, but an undercurrent of disappointed petulance ran through it.
“Apologies. Mr. Yamamoto had an issue come up last moment. He sent me in his stead. I hope it’s not taken as an insult.”
Oshi tipped his head. Yamamoto might not be as old as some of the Yakuza bosses, but he didn’t have the taste for this kind of art. He much preferred fucking underage girls, particularly those from the families of his minions to keep them in line. Oshi’s stomach threatened to return the hors d’oeuvres but he clenched his teeth behind his bland façade.
“Of course, of course. I’m so grateful he sent a representative at all.”
Yaku turned his head to scan the crowd as if trying to find something to scatter his embarrassment over the faux pas. Oshi lost interest in the man’s obsequiousness and moved on to the next image in the gallery. Unfortunately, Yaku trailed in his wake like an overexcited puppy. Oshi refused to acknowledge him as he perused the art, damn near making an entire circuit around the room before something stopped him.
Correction. Someone.
The man was tall and broad, broader than even Nobu and Taka, Riku’s usual enforcers. His hair had been cut into the high-and-tight style favored by the American military and he stood with the same relaxed-but-ready confidence of a warrior. Samurai.
Oshi’s mouth watered and his heart thundered in his chest as the Samurai met his gaze. Glorious dark eyes set in a round face under thick, elegant brows watched him with awareness, and Oshi resisted the urge to preen. Hot damn that man’s sexy. He made Oshi feel positively dainty and the urge to change into his more feminine clothing returned.
“Yaku, who is that man?” Oshi pointed out the hot stranger in the black suit with a silver silk tie.
Yaku frowned as he followed Oshi’s gaze. “He’s our new security guard. He was hired for this opening by Nishimura, I think. Weren’t you informed?”
“I was not, but I should very much like to meet him. Now.”
“Of course, Oshi-san.” Yaku bowed before he darted away to where the tall, broad beauty stood at parade rest.
Oh yes, he’s definitely military. And I want him. He just hoped the man wasn’t adverse to male company.
~~~~~~~
There you have it. Stop by the following other flash fiction authors below. Happy reading and happy August!
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