| Author: | Jon Zelig | ISBN: | 9781370102259 |
| Publisher: | Zelig Media | Publication: | November 21, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords | Language: | English |
| Author: | Jon Zelig |
| ISBN: | 9781370102259 |
| Publisher: | Zelig Media |
| Publication: | November 21, 2016 |
| Imprint: | Smashwords |
| Language: | English |
2600 Word Short Story
Bonus: Sample Chapter from Jon Zelig's "The Heat: A Raw, Dystopian, Erotic, Love Story"
He had been eighteen when his parents died in a plane crash: Obligatory Cliché #1.
They had left him a substantial fortune: Obligatory Cliché #2.
But the money was legally encumbered until he turned twenty-one—in the care of one of his aunts by marriage, a striking widow in her late forties: Obligatory Cliché #3.
The Aunt had been in graduate school when he was born, finishing up a PhD in psychology; then she went into private practice—doing exactly what was never completely clear.
And she had always been—he wasn’t even quite sure how to put it—an odd combination of hot and cold, sweet and sour, nurturing and. . . was “cruel” too strong a word?
From his earliest memories of her, she had projected authority, as though surrounded by a nimbus of static electricity; he had always been both drawn to her and somewhat afraid of her.
When he was 13, he had seen her naked, on a family beach vacation, not entirely by accident: Obligatory Cliché #4.
She had been stripping off her black string bikini, the door to her room ajar; the house was supposed to be empty.
He’d stood in the hallway, at first only getting a side view of her, her uncovered milky-pale flesh like a bright white bathing suit, setting off the deep, even tan of the rest of her body.
She'd turned her head, locked eyes with him, and he had completely frozen—piercing blue eyes: Obligatory Cliché #5.
She'd walked toward him, fully opened the door, looked him over head-to-toe, pausing briefly on his tented shorts.
She didn’t smile but she didn’t yell at him either; years later he would come to identify the glimmer in her eyes as predatory—a lioness surveying the savannah.
“You’re not too old to be spanked,” she’d said quietly, expression thoughtful, before she dropped her eyes to his crotch.
“Spanked,” she’d said again, as if murmuring to herself.
2600 Word Short Story
Bonus: Sample Chapter from Jon Zelig's "The Heat: A Raw, Dystopian, Erotic, Love Story"
He had been eighteen when his parents died in a plane crash: Obligatory Cliché #1.
They had left him a substantial fortune: Obligatory Cliché #2.
But the money was legally encumbered until he turned twenty-one—in the care of one of his aunts by marriage, a striking widow in her late forties: Obligatory Cliché #3.
The Aunt had been in graduate school when he was born, finishing up a PhD in psychology; then she went into private practice—doing exactly what was never completely clear.
And she had always been—he wasn’t even quite sure how to put it—an odd combination of hot and cold, sweet and sour, nurturing and. . . was “cruel” too strong a word?
From his earliest memories of her, she had projected authority, as though surrounded by a nimbus of static electricity; he had always been both drawn to her and somewhat afraid of her.
When he was 13, he had seen her naked, on a family beach vacation, not entirely by accident: Obligatory Cliché #4.
She had been stripping off her black string bikini, the door to her room ajar; the house was supposed to be empty.
He’d stood in the hallway, at first only getting a side view of her, her uncovered milky-pale flesh like a bright white bathing suit, setting off the deep, even tan of the rest of her body.
She'd turned her head, locked eyes with him, and he had completely frozen—piercing blue eyes: Obligatory Cliché #5.
She'd walked toward him, fully opened the door, looked him over head-to-toe, pausing briefly on his tented shorts.
She didn’t smile but she didn’t yell at him either; years later he would come to identify the glimmer in her eyes as predatory—a lioness surveying the savannah.
“You’re not too old to be spanked,” she’d said quietly, expression thoughtful, before she dropped her eyes to his crotch.
“Spanked,” she’d said again, as if murmuring to herself.
