Tuesday Tickle: The Boyler Room

I spent the morning fighting with two different printers to get my contract printed off, only to lose severely and have to make a trip into town. Contract is signed and sent. Let the waiting recommence. In the meantime, I have gotten almost nothing written today. Ugh. I’ll likely hit my targets before bedtime, but it’ll be a hard slog. True to my rather bizarre method of writing, I’m working the ending of The Boyler Room (note the name change–I think this one will stick).

Anyway, here’s few words from The Boyler Room, a part of today’s 1000 words, so pretty much unedited. Actually, it’s a bit of a performance. Ladies and Gentlemen, if you could join me in welcoming our star attraction, Leland!!! (JUst a note: he’s wearing an ‘Egyptian’ costume with a white cloak over it)

Right on cue, the machinery jerked to a stop. Lee waited eight beats before he stood up and moved away from the throne. The noise crescendoed and then died away as Lee began to dance.

He stepped out carefully, long legs appearing and disappearing in flashes through the cloth. A slow turn put him with his back to the audience. He deliberately extended his left leg to the side, toes pointed and knee bent just so to expose the flesh halfway up his thigh as the muslin cloak fell away. A roar greeted this display and he firmly repressed a smile.

With slow, lazy movements, Lee pulled the leg back in and pushed out the other, only this time he kept it straight and bent his left knee so the cloth fell away from the right leg completely. He let the right side of the cloak tumble from his fingers and shrugged it back off his shoulder, baring his right side to his spine as he gracefully reached out to lay the curve of the hook against the skin of his ankle. Turning his head to smile wickedly at the men, he languidly drew the prop up his leg, until he could hook it in the hem of his skirt and tease them with a brief glimpse of the curve of his ass.

Straightening his left leg, he raised himself until he was balanced in the center of the stage, legs spread wide. He dropped the left side of his cloak and turned the flail out until the audience could see it, spinning the beaded strands like one of Mattie’s tassels.

A quick flick of his wrist brought the flail around to smack against his ass with a muffled rattle. The yells of the crowd covered the clatter of the hook hitting the floor as he tossed it under the throne, where he wouldn’t risk stepping on it.

There’s our Lee (Leland is his stage name!) And yes, it needs some serious editing, but I’ve been talking about the story for a few weeks now, I thought I should give you a peek! 😀

About the author: Kate Lowell

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