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Car Park II


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I wrote 'Car Park' in response to a suggestion in my blog, from Kapitano. It took an hour and I was very happy with it, and happier still with the comments. Trab's comment ended with:

Jace is obviously a bastard of the nastiest kind.

It got me to thinking about perceived point of view.

So, I decided to write the same scene from Jace's perspective. Was he really a 'bastard of the nastiest kind'?

Car Park II is a tad longer - but still within the flash limit of 1000 words. It's also - as was the original - unedited.

Car Park II by Camy

I’d been ripping myself apart for months: devastated that I’d lost him, that he’d walked out of my life, forever.

It had started off as a casual thing. A chance meeting in the park at the end of a perfect summer’s day. His silhouette, backlit by the reds and purples of the setting sun seemed to offer a bacchanal of possibilities, as our dogs made friends.

Six months of memories. Snapshots of the highs: the lows, few and far between, forgotten. Then he’d vanished, and look as I did, I could find no hide nor hair of him ….

Until an hour ago: the supermarket: the weekly shop.

Times together had always been on his terms: though I didn’t regret a one. He’d never known how hard I’d fallen, how much I wanted it to be real, and not a passing fling. I’d never told him: QED, he’d never known. Love: stupid and meaningless, unless both are party to it.

I turned into aisle 4, and there he was. My heart played an instantaneous solo, and I nearly, nearly walked over. Then I saw the woman and the boy. Obvious what they were, even to me.

Inside I was screaming. SCREAMING! I turned away before he looked in my direction, cued for the till, and left. Oddly, I thought as I put the bags in the car, it was the same kind of weather as the day we’d first met. I got behind the wheel, and was about to leave when something inside me snapped.

Duplicitous bastard! He was married with a son. Yet together we explored every base erotic fantasy either of us had ever admitted to: our seed mingling in moments peculiarly ours.

I wailed, slamming my hands on the steering wheel so hard I knew they were bruised. Sniffing back a long string of snot, I wiped my tears away, got out and locked the door. It didn’t take me long to find his car.

I watched as they came out of the store.

She was beautiful: his son too, and all boy. I smiled as he pushed the trolley until it was racing, then lifted his legs; held my breath as it clipped the curb and teetered; winced as it tipped over, taking him with it.

His parents conferred. I saw his wife point at me: saw David blush, and I knew. I knew we weren’t finished … yet.

Peripherally I was aware of mother helping son, but I had eyes only for him. Thoughts of us together again: made me steel.

“Well this is nice, David.” I said.

“What do you want, Jace?” his expression belied his tone. I watched as he licked his lips, then, making sure he was shielded from his family, I reached over and cupped his crotch.

“You, silly!”

He hissed, his cock jumping, swelling under my palm.

“Fuck right off, Jace!” He snarled.

“Okay, big guy.” I countered, “I will ‘fuck right off’ … but only after I’ve fucked right on! … if you get my drift, David.” I paused. He glared at me, the adage ‘if looks could kill’ coming to mind. “Hmm, tonight, I think, David. At nine … in the usual place.”

“Usual!?” he stuttered, “Usual!? Why you little ….”

“Your wife and son approacheth!” I tried not to smirk, but frankly, I was fed up. “So …?”

“Alright! but ….”

“David, who is this, and what’s ‘alright’?” she said, arriving next to us. He blinked, and as his mouth opened and shut like a landed fish I knew he was close to panicking. I had to take control otherwise he’d lose it all, and even through I both hated and loved him, I didn’t want that. Smiling, I turned to his wife.

“My fault,” I said politely. “I thought your car belonged to a business associate of mine who I haven’t seen in an age.”

“Oh, dear,” his wife said, passing his son the grocery bags. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“Well, that’s life I suppose.” I said. Brushing by him my hand briefly caressed his cock. “It’s hard, but I’m sure I’ll see him soon enough.”

“Yes, no doubt you will.” David sighed. “No doubt you will.”


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Wow. Two different stories, two different perspectives, one event. Viewpoint is everything. This is a salutory tale: there's always two sides to a story, and if you need to judge you need to hear both. Failing that, cultivate empathy, you're sure going to need it.

Put yourself in the other guy's shoes, it may look quite different from there.

Camy has done a masterful job of showing that, and done it with a light touch. Bravo!


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Totally fantastic, Camy. Awesome. Now David is the bastard. Wow. Beautiful. :icon11:

Now I'm going to suggest, and only because you've done this great job already: tell it from the viewpoint of the wife/mother and also the boy/son as well. I am now totally intrigued by the possibilities in the hands of a craftsman.

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