[stylist] Feedback on today's blurb

[Brad Dunsé]

Title: None yet
Rateing: PG (meaning 17 or under parental guidance)
Suggestive playful matter but not explicit. If that's offensive, sorry.
Word count: 2361

I'm a little reluctant to post this, i'ts by no 
means terrible, but the story I "think" I have in 
mind, if I proceed with it, will rely on 
establishing the mature, spontaneous, healthy, 
active, deep loving marital relationship these 
two have. This is kind of out of my normal range 
of writing. Any feedback is welcome.


The oven door creaked open, a gush of hot air 
shimmered Linda’s wheat-colored, chin-length hair 
as she slid in another stone casserole dish 
brimming with apple crisp. She was fixing up an 
office favorite for tonight’s annual get-together.



“Rob?” she called, “don’t forget 
we’re going to 
the annual office staff party tonight. You’ll be home by 6:30 right?”



“Uh, yeah 
 I should be back by then,” Rob 
shouted back from his den with a boyish, animated 
lip curl, partly disgusted with the idea of the 
annual appointment, and partly because he just 
tied his right pinkie in the laces of his gortex hunting boots.



The late-summer company picnic at Linda’s work he 
thought was half OK because they held it outside 
at a local park, the grilled chicken was always 
awesome, and there were blue collars he could 
talk with at the picnic tables. Even though he 
didn’t’ know any of them personally, there was 
usually an outdoorsman or two he could carry on 
with about bass fishing, deer hunting, or 
something. These stuffy mid-winter staff parties 
hosted at the big bosses swanky pad though 
 they 
were nothing but jokes, sick jokes he thought. 
The kind of people that had heated garage floors, 
indoor pools and bowling lanes for crying out 
loud, marble countertops, imported fireplaces 
from some 1700 European mansion, not to mention 
imported Italian brick exterior, copper gutter 
systems and a terrazzo tiled roof. “What a 
waste,” he thought it was 
 and the souls inside? 
A room full of white collar wimps touting 
pseudo-humility in the presence of the peasant 
workers, claiming to dummy down their casual 
dress with eggplant colored Saltaire shirts, 
pewter Oakley pants covering the tops of their 
Ostrich skinned boots,, all of them running their 
lips dry from gulping drenched olive Martini’s 
all night long, while laughing and clearing 
throats on the outside, but trying to one-up each 
other inside on who went where on their last 
cruise 
 who bought what yacht in a whim at the 
last boat show 
 or who shot their wall mounted 
Gazelle, Waterbuck or Impala down in Texas on one 
of those exotic game ranches.



That part made him laugh, “Yeah right. Fence in 
some exotic animals in a foreign environment, let 
loose a bunch of high-priced spoiled brats 
outfitted with starched hunting vests, $45,000 
Homer Koon rifles, $1,700 Steiner military style 
binoculars, and run them around on four wheels 
chasing game so they can return as “he-men” after 
bagging their prize mount from the front seat of 
a Jeep. I’d give them a day 
 maybe 
:” more like 
a couple hours he really thought, “
 if they came 
along with me on a 3-day trap run.”



It always crossed Rob’s mind to suddenly take ill 
reaching for the keys on the way to the car to 
these events, and Linda knew how he hated it, but 
she was trying to work her way up the ladder. And 
she really did feel honored she was invited to 
the get-together at all. Linda returned to school 
8-years ago, graduated two-years ago with a 
Master of Science in Risk Management, and due to 
her late blooming in education, she was on the 
bottom rung, footpad really, of the corporate 
ladder. Linda really had no clue, but Rob could 
see it, not that his sweetie wasn’t smart, she 
was brilliant, she graduated with a 4.1 GPA on 
top of working part-time at the university. But 
Rob could see that the office mucky-mucks didn’t 
mind Linda was a looker. Just past Mid-40’s, not 
tall but more legs than waste, not thin, not 
pudge, just attractively filling out a good pair 
of dress pants or designer jeans, amply gifted 
upper profile, a button-nose, beautiful hair, and 
a perfectly oval face circling a dimpled chin, 
balanced cheeks under gorgeous green eyes
 those 
gorgeous green eyes. It bothered him some she was 
the type that drew undressing looks from the male 
specie, but He and Linda had a strong 
relationship. They were crazy over each other, 
even after 28 years of marriage. He sort of took 
it as a compliment and a “nana-nana-na, I’ve got 
her and you can’t have her,” kind of attitude. 
Childish he knew, but still it made him feel 
good, lucky actually, that Linda loved him so much.



One last grunt on the other foot of Rob’s 
mid-calf boot lace, he pulled the woolen cammo 
pant legs over the top of the boots, stood up, 
slung the empty, slightly blood stained, khaki 
canvas game bag over his left shoulder, grabbed 
his possibilities pouch, and headed towards his 
“see ya later honey” kiss waiting for him in the kitchen.



“Um? 
 Hun? Did you say 
 Should be home by 
then?” Linda moaned with pleading concern from 
out in the kitchen, “You will be back by 6:30 
won’t you? I know it isn’t your thing but
”



Interrupting as he stood just inside the door of 
his den, “I’ll be back in time,” he droned with 
an exaggerated descending “OK I got caught” kind of tone.



He poked his smiling face out into the hallway 
from the den, took a sneaking peak at his wife, 
quite playfully at first expecting her to be 
looking back at him, but then his face grew more 
concentrated as his smile slowly gave way to a 
deep admiration, a growing sexual interest he 
could feel more than just in his chest as he 
stood gaping at the view of her 48-year old 
blue-jean wrapped backside looking quite 
twenty-oneish, while bent over the oven door. 
Standing there he shook his head how many times 
he’s caught himself stunned by her grace and 
beauty. He can be totally engrossed in a project 
around the house and catch glimpse of her in the 
other room and find himself standing there 
drinking in her elegance and cuteness. A couple 
times she’s caught him looking, which often 
turned into a two-hour delay in the project at 
hand, but oh, what a delay. That’s why he thought 
she’d be looking back at him when he poked his 
head out in the hall towards her just then.



Standing there, he jerked his head back inside 
the den, half-cupped his mouth to the middle of 
the room and yelled, “I just need to check my 
trap lines along the river in back of the 
Glitchke’s property. I hadn’t been out there in 
2-days. Should only take me 3-hours or so.”



Thinking quite clever of himself for that little, 
“I’m not really standing in the doorway staring 
at you,” vocal diversion, he poked his head back 
around the corner for another long loving glare. 

 Alright then 
 OK 
 lustful glare, but it 
wasn’t lust, it wasn’t, he loved her with an 
incredible love. Though they had no kids 
together, he felt complete with her, like your 
first experience with love only it never ended. 
Oh sure they had differences, who doesn’t, but 
love always came out on top. And times like now? 
Admiring her from a distance? He thought he was 
getting away with something. And whenever he was 
caught staring? She loved it. She loved to know 
her guy adored her for who she was in general, 
but he made her feel beautiful and wanted, needed 
really 
 yes, she loved being surprised she can 
still turn the head of the man she loved, and he 
also turned her head just the same. She too 
admitted to her own fair share of staring, 
sometimes in the morning she’d lean on one elbow 
and stare at his handsome face, defined, almost 
chiseled look. A sharp handsome nose dividing 
deep blue eyes under a sharp brow. Light brown 
hair that when she fingered it and looked close 
there were strains of auburn and gray mixed in it 
that gave him a distinguished look. He took care 
of himself too, for 50-years old; he pumped iron 
for a hobby as well, had a chest of a buff 
25-year-old, and could knock one on his rear end 
if he needed to. She also admitted to lifting the 
morning covers off to stare at the wonderment of 
the naked human male body prior to waking. So 
yes, Linda loved the fact he stared, because she 
knew when she did, it wasn’t dirty, it wasn’t’ 
lustful. Well 
 perhaps, somewhat 
 at times yes 
maybe it was a lust of sorts, but she liked that 
too, it made her feel like she was getting away 
with something. Really she wasn’t because there 
was a time or two when she pulled the covers down 
off him, and she knew the exact moment when he 
awoke and caught her peaking, because of the 
change in his manhood that took place as she 
stared smiling. She knew he was watching her 
watch him. All in all, she knew these sneak peeks 
were looks birthed out of infatuation with their life soul mate.



With a mischievous boyish grin again taunting 
Rob’s ears as he peaked around the door, he saw 
her still bent over the oven door messing with 
the apple crisp. He stealthfully walked down the 
hall and into the kitchen without her even close 
to suspecting he wasn’t still in the den as she 
quietly hummed a tune. Creeping up behind her, he 
stood there with his six-foot one-inch, 
two-hundred pound frame that packed a healthy bit 
of meat inside a flannel shirt. He let the fronts 
of his thighs gently press into her shapely hind 
as he dropped the bags and palmed her hips with a 
little pulling motion. A huge smile drew across 
her lips as she stood up Turning her five-foot 
six and a half inch button-nosed frame around to 
meet him, she gripped the outsides of his bulky 
shoulders, jumped to a tip toe, pecked him on the 
lips, and snapped the straps of his suspenders on her way back down.



Teasing she said in a slow erotic voice, “After 
we get back from that big bad office party 
 big 
boy,” snapping one of his suspender straps again, 
“
 I’ll 
 um 
 maybe 
 invite you to another 
little party. A private one maybe? One I think 
you’ll like, if that is, you’re willing to 
 
come,” winking one of her perfect lashes as she 
looked up at him after purposely placing a long pause before her last word.



Staring intensely in her eyes, her’s growing more 
serious, with his palms still cupping her hips, 
the wash of warm apple-cinnamon air twirled 
around them as it rolled from the open oven door, 
he leaned slowly in for the most tender of kisses 
that closed her gorgeous green eyes in a groan of 
pleasure as his hand slowly slid off her hips, up 
her mid-drift, past her breasts, grazing the 
front of them just enough with his extended 
thumbs to cause another slow pleasurable groan, 
and finally cupping her face as they broke the kiss.



Slowly backing off he said, “Now 
 that little 
lady 
 is my RSVP.” Standing there a second to 
regain her composure, she broke into a smile, 
lightly rib-tickled him with a giggle, “Alright, 
go check your traps Daniel Boone, and get back here 
 stud.”



Rob has always been the outdoorsy, hunting and 
fishing type but never tried trapping until a 
couple years back. So far it’s been mostly 
Muskrats, not much for eating, “Oh you can 
survive on them, but they’re a bit greasy and 
gamy for everyday eating,” Linda claimed, but Rob 
didn’t’ mind them. The pelts only brought about 
$4 on the market, but it wasn’t the money from 
the pelts that kept him trapping, that barely 
paid for the gas, the traps and the gear. It was 
the feeling of being outdoors, out in the grasp 
of nature, that’s what got his teeth out in broad 
daylight. And grasp of nature he soon will be. If 
only he’d known, maybe he’d have even opted to go 
to the party early 
 instead 
 and maybe even 
glad to do it too. But, right now standing at the 
door of his truck in the safety of his garage, he 
focused on hating these office parties and was 
headed out for a few hours dose of nature’s 
tranquility while checking his trap lines
 or so he thought.



Backing his Red 2008 model Chevy pick-up out of 
the drive of the small town city rambler, he turn 
the wheel to the left then back straight again. 
His foot held the clutch to the floor letting the 
truck slowly drift backwards until he could see 
Linda at the kitchen counter working up yet 
another batch of apple crisp. He took a few more 
seconds, gave a couple toots of his horn and 
revved the engine up like a high-schooler out 
whooping it up on Friday night. Looking through 
the living room window she smiled those gorgeous 
green eyes at him, seductively licked her lips, 
and slowly winked. Revving the engine again as he 
raised his brow and shoved the truck in first 
gear, she could see her pull a giggle through the 
window and he popped the clutch chirping the tires a bit as he blasted off.



Linda stood at the counter, slicing apples, 
shaking her head with a huge smile at her zany 
husband’s youthfulness. Her husband, who she now 
could hear driving off in the distance 
 He was 
driving off in the distance, and then 
 then she couldn’t’ hear him anymore.



Her smile faded kind of quickly and she turned 
her eyes, those gorgeous green eyes he loved so 
much, towards the window where her husband sat in 
his pick-up out on the street out front of their 
home just seconds ago. She shook off an eerie 
feeling, or tried to anyway. She thought of 
calling his cell phone and telling him to forget 
the trap lines today, do them tomorrow, come back 
home and take her in his arms one more time for 
an hour or two. She even picked her phone up to 
call, but set it down saying out loud, “Aghg 
 
that’s silly.” Then shook it off when the oven’s 
buzzer warned her to pull the apple crisp out to cool.





Brad Dunsé

"Where no oxen are, the manger is clean,
But much revenue comes by the strength of the ox." --Proverbs

http://www.braddunsemusic.com

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