Flash Fiction: Good Intentions (Patreon)

Hello again!

This flash-fiction piece is taken from a suggestion by Karl-Johan Noren. It's not quite what he asked for, but my mind took off with it. :)

I'll have the monthly short story up later today/tonight. This month's story is a Tanner tale from the Debtor's War and I'm kinda proud of it.

In case anyone's wondering about the next novel, the manuscript is currently a hair short of 80k words and feels like it's picking up steam. (This is not to say it's going as fast as I'd like, but I've had some significant interruptions.) It also feels like it's at or past the halfway point; it's probably going to be a good bit shorter than the last novel in the series (which was like 180k), but still a solid story with a lot going on.

Your support means so much more than I can say, especially lately. Thank you so much for being here. Hope you like this one!

TEMPTED AND TESTED

© Elliott Kay 2023

Forget any other plans for tonight. You are mine.

Lorelei hesitated before sending the text. Her bathroom mirror selfie caught the image she wanted: low lighting, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, a challenging expression, and her office shirt unbuttoned to give a hint of lace from the bra Alex liked so much.

Hesitation came from conflicting whims. Demon curses allowed her to revel in his desires even from across town, but this would set the flavor of their reunion. She could dominate him from the start or goad him into ravishing her as soon as he walked through the door. Both appealed to her, but the latter didn’t fit the selfie and it was a good picture…

Desire welled up within her, and not her own: she felt his curiosity and anticipation. Alex must have looked at his phone to see she was typing, and now he waited at her mercy. She never felt guilt for distracting him from his class. If she left a scar on his GPA, he would love her for it.

Lorelei tapped the “send” arrow and set her phone down. Her shirt had done its job. She tossed it into the hamper along with her skirt and sauntered back to their bedroom to consider just how much planning she wanted to put into this… and then heard the knock at the door.

The building had procedures for visitors and deliveries; Lorelei expected neither. Neighbors hadn’t struck up any friendships yet. Intuition steered away from worries of danger. She considered ignoring the caller, but she’d be annoyed if they returned once Alex was home.

Her work clothes had just gone into the hamper. Though the silk robe on the bed was cut more for invitation than modesty, it would serve as the basis of illusions for full clothing. Lorelei swept it over her shoulders and tied the belt on her way to the door. She looked through the peephole.

Two young men waited in the hall. They wore collared shirts and neckties, boyish haircuts and backpacks, and nametags. One held a small black book. She saw smiles and hidden nerves. Her irritation rose—and then she stopped.

Loneliness ached behind those façades, hidden as much from one another as the rest of the world. Neither one wanted to be doing this, but couldn’t admit it to the other, and presumably to their superiors. She knew what that was like. Her annoyance clashed with her sympathy, which was why she didn’t conjure any illusions when she opened the door.

“Hi, we’re from the Church of… um.” Friendly smiles faltered. Nerves of a different sort grew. “Ah… sorry.”

“I see your nametags.” She didn’t return the smile, but she spoke patiently and with respect. “Nathan, Chad, I am Lorelei. Hello.”

“We didn’t mean to come at a bad time,” Chad began.

“You did not. I believe I know why you’re here.” Lorelei felt their desires behind their polite demeanors. She appreciated their reactions, and also their effort at hiding it. “I would ask how you are here. This building has rules about visitors.”

“Oh, one of your neighbors…” Nathan gestured down the hall and faltered. “We’re sorry, we thought this was okay.”

“Because a neighbor allowed it. Someone from your church?” She didn’t need them to answer. “They would know the building’s policy. They would also know how many neighbors would not appreciate such a visit.”

“Yeah, we kind of got that vibe,” said Chad. “Most folks haven’t answered the door. Some aren’t home, but obviously others are. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize further. I am not angry, and I don’t blame you. I would ask, though: why do you think you were sent out here by someone who knew better?”

“I’m sure it’s an honest mistake,” said Nathan.

“Do you think they experienced the same rejection when they were in your shoes, years ago?” asked Lorelei. “Is it common?”

Chad and Nathan shared a reluctant smile. “Yeah. It can be rough. People don’t always want to talk, and they’ve got their reasons. We understand.”

“Do you think your church understands, too? Perhaps that rejection is the point?”

“What do you mean?” Chad asked warily.

“I know how it is to endure rejection after rejection. That sort of pain can drive one deeper into the arms of the few who share the experience. And I know how some people in power use this to reinforce loyalty. I am not the first to observe it.”

The pair shared another uncertain glance. “Ma’am, can I ask… do you believe in Christ?”

“I believe the proper term is agnostic. However, I am deeply familiar with divine matters. Would you like to come inside? I have questions for you about your faith.”

* * *

Alex couldn’t get home fast enough. He’d taken the light rail rather than ride his motorcycle in the rain, and thus couldn’t make the tracks go faster. He couldn’t begrudge the guy on crutches who needed his help with grocery bags, or the tired people packing the escalators. He couldn’t claim his trip home was urgent. It was only a taunting lover, only sexy playtime.

Only the whole meaning of life.

The elevator opened on his floor as the two missionaries stepped out of his apartment: quiet, wide-eyed, perhaps shaken. They passed with awkward glances, realizing where he was going. “Hey, are you Alex?”

“Yeah?” he answered.

“Your girlfriend’s really cool, man.”

“Really cool. You’re a lucky guy,” echoed the other.

“Thanks…?”

They disappeared into the elevator. Alex found Lorelei just out of sight from their front door. She seemed less concerned than her departing visitors, but still unusually sober. “Hi,” he greeted her. “What’d I just miss?”

“Theology, philosophy, and I hope a path to independence,” said Lorelei. “I am not used to patience and grace.”

“Yours, or theirs?”

“Both, I admit.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Yes. Take off your clothes, or mine. Right now.”