UNDER CONSTRUCTION

The Duel - Day 1

The tear-off Calendar next to the bulletin board indicated June 2, 2002. DrSpin approached the bulletin board and posted a little yellow sticky-note:

Second's Note:

We begin a week-long Flash Fiction duel between Selena Jardine and Alexis Sieffert with warm-up exercises � stories that have been written prior to the events, words, insults and general cattiness that led to the challenge itself. Stories are to be no more than 300 words. The 'rom' limitation has been canned by agreement between the seconds (Nat; me). As challenger, Selena leads off. Watch for the main bout. There will be blood.

DrSpin
(Official Second for Selena Jardine)

He then used four staples to post the following Flashfic:

La Jalousie

By Selena Jardine

(Flash Fiction - 203 words)

Of course I've had lovers since I've been married. Three affairs, a Morse code: two shorts and a long� eighteen months and a messy breakup. Joseph never had a clue, poor stupid bastard, never suspected his perfect wife, never felt a pang of jealousy or suspicion.

Of course, I was the soul of discretion, never gave myself away. I met them out of town, used phone cards, took long showers. I was a great fuck, but I cleaned up afterwards. I had alibis, but I never asked anyone to lie for me. The lies of others trip you up.

I needn't have bothered. Joseph never checked on me. I'd come home, freshly fucked, and he'd say, "Have a nice day, honey?" It made me laugh, at first.

I have cyber lovers, too. I'll sit next to him on the couch, my laptop tilted slightly away, while men describe what they are doing to my lovely white virtual body. I cover my tracks beautifully: erase the history on my computer, hide my chat rooms. Wasted effort. I don't think Joseph would ever check.

Fool. The day he cares enough to open his eyes is the day he will appreciate me at my true worth.

Father Ignatious strode confidently to the same bulletin board, and beside the first Flash story, posted another:

Dance With Me

A FlashFic by Alexis Siefert, 2002
271 Words

"Meg? Why don't men dance anymore?"

It was her complaint every time we went to the bar. There was almost always live music-usually pretty good-and it frustrated her no end that men would buy her drinks, but not one ever got up to dance with her or anyone. The music called out for dancers, drew them to the floor, but they held back, glued to their barstools in their attempts to keeping appearances.

"You've seen too many movies, Jenna. I don't think men ever knew how to dance."

"Fine. Then you dance with me."

I loved Jenna. She was my best friend. Of course I'd dance with her.

In the middle of the crowded bar, we two women danced. As friends. But that doesn't work. There's no such thing as dancing "as friends." Our bodies moved-separately at first-fighting for the space between us, until we weren't fighting, and we weren't separate. Rhythmic tension relaxed, syncopation became smooth. The tempo slowed, the guitar took a break, and the saxophone took over. And suddenly we were dancing together. Her casual touch on my arm became a tentatively possessive touch at the dip of my waist.

"Meg? Can I kiss you?"

I didn't know the answer. Then I heard a voice, my voice telling her, "Please."

"Will you kiss me back?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Please."

The air between us disappeared, trapped by our bodies. Her lips pressed against mine. Her tentative touch now firm. I felt her breasts move against mine. I felt the loss when she pulled away.

"You'd think they would dance, wouldn't you?" she said.

As soon as the seconds cleared the way, a crowd of patrons crowded around the bulletin board to read the initial offerings. A soft murmer swept the crowd, as they read the stories in awe.

"Murmer, murmer murmermurmer," murmered Souvie.

"Murmer?" murmered Gary in response. He clapped a hand over his mouth and looked puzzled.

Murmermurmer, murmermurmermurmer," Desdmona added, a faint smile on her lips.

"Muttermuttermutter," murmered Denny. (He was, after all, a curmudgeon.)

The crowd began to disperse, heading for the exits, when the snap of someone's Muse's fingers caused the top page of the calandar to shrivel and fall. June 3rd had arrived, and with it:

Round #2 in the week-long Flash Fiction duel between
Selena Jardine and Alexis Sieffert.
The pressure builds.