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Weekly Contest #342
The bodice was a lacy black number from that leather shop next to TJ Maxx and cost as much as four packs of diapers. An irresponsible purchase. Gorgeous though. Leanne squirted some more mousse in her hand and scrunched up her raven curls. “You’re not a mum tonight,” she told herself sternly, getting into character, “you’re a sexy, single, thirty-something hustler. You take no prisoners.” “Leanne?” her mother bellowed from the bottom of the stairs. “Where are the extra baby wipes?” “Just a minute!” She shoved her boobs into place, adjusted t...
Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #160 ⭐️
C/W: Swearing Monday Dorothy turned off her hearing aid long before her daughter’s infernal kettle began puffing steam out like a locomotive, the whistle slicing through all other sound. She wasn’t the only one who hated the kettle. The cat, Marmalade, removed himself from the kitchen and curled up on the sofa as soon as the switch was flicked. Why wouldn’t Samantha let her buy a new one? It’s only a sodding kettle, but no. She was ‘fine’. Always fine. Strong. A survivor. Dorothy slammed the dishwasher shut. Head in the bloody sand more li...
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