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Wednesday, November 6, 2013

Writing Wednesday | Prompt 12

Happy Wednesday Everyone! I have to say I'm feeling a bit burnt out at the moment. With Nanowrimo and my deadline with my editor, I'm feeling the pressure. Sadly, I think nano will be the first commitment to drop but I'm not just yet. One more week to hold out!

So I'm very excited to prompt with you all today! I need a break from my work so I'm going to pick a really fun one that gives us all a lot of freedom. No word counts, no minimums, complete creative freedom! Let's do this...

Prompt Twelve: The Mind

What would be going on in the mind of a young executive while nervously biting her nails? That's it. Just write what you think and create a situation that makes sense. Like I said before, no word limits or minimums, just write today!

My response...

Why is he looking at me with such a hooded gaze? I try to avert my eyes to the floor but his predatory glare burns into me like a lazer. I reach my hand towards my mouth and start picking at the cuticles, a nervous habit I've only seemed to worsen over my career.

I wasn't always top dog. I started at the bottom, a newbie straight out of college. I was filing and doing secretarial work but I did it damn good. And now I sit in the big wig's office and am about to shit my pants I'm so scared.

"Miss Lewis." His deep voice rings out, trumping over my over abundant thoughts. I look up and meet the boss's eyes and finally see him. I'm usually not so nervous. I'm usually quite confident and headstrong but this guy is both scary and drop dead gorgeous.

His eyes are an icy blue but tired, mostly like since he's getting annoyed with. He has a dark complexion that's really striking with his eyes but accentuates his dark, cropped hair. His brown locks are buzzed short, a military cut.

I shake my head, trying to get my overactive brain to shut the hell up. "I'm sorry, sir. What?" My cheeks illuminate like a Christmas Tree. Once again, I bite at my nails to calm my nerves.

"Stop biting." As if his words are gold, my hand drops onto my lap where I let it rest lifelessly. Mr. Jordon stands from behind his large, mahogany desk and steps towards me. Instantly my heart beats out of my chest, my palms sweat and the urge to nibble my finger takes over me.

But I press my hands together to stop it. I don't want to upset Mr. Jordon. When I look up at him, he's only a few feet away, now in front of his desk, sitting only half on it, with one leg on the ground. He looks so commanding in the position as he towers over me with all of his six foot five glory.

"You're got too beautiful of hands to bite them, Miss Lewis." He drawls out, his voice throaty, gravely. I nod towards him as I swallow a lump in my throat. I don't know how to respond to him or what to do. I don't know what's going on.

"Are you scared of me?" I think about the question for a second before I shake my head, answering no. "Why won't you speak to me?"

"I'm not scared of you." I stutter over the words as I whisper out a short response.

He lifts himself off the desk and then drops to his knees in front of me. My eyes widen in shock. Not knowing what to do, I watch his every move, unable to tear my eyes away. He reaches towards me and takes one of my sweaty, clenched hands in his and links his fingers with mine. Then he bends and presses his hot, thick lips to my hand. "Good." He looks up from under his lashes and butterflies erupt in the hundreds in my stomach.

(I got a little carried away with this one so I had to cut it off where it no longer was PG-13. Sorry guys! But that was really fun. I can't wait to see all of yours!)

Write your response in the comments section below. 

Didn't like this prompt? Want to do another? Check out my other prompts...

     Prompt 10

          Prompt 9

               Prompt 8

                    Prompt 7

                         Prompt 6

                              Prompt 5

                                   Prompt 4

                                        Prompt 3

                                             Prompt 2

                                                   Prompt 1

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