FLASH FICTION: Contest Winner

We have a FLASH FICTION winner! DAVID MOORE come on down! No wait, wrong contest. But you still won and your story will be published on OCH’s home page as the weekly OCH ELITE feature AND you win an e-book of The Abandoned Pages by Allie Burke and Melissa Thayer.

After reading David’s entry I felt warm and tingly for a few reasons. I won’t spoil why, or where the tingles emanated, you’ll need to read to find out. Worth the few minutes to put a smile on your face.

Thank you to everyone who entered OCH’s first Flash Fiction contest. Watch out for another picture prompt in the near future and your chance to win more prizes.

I’m cleaning my spray tips when she walks in. I just finished airbrushing bikini tops on ten waitresses before their shift at Doozer’s, a restaurant down the boardwalk from my studio. Work has slowed down a bit since the Spring Break crowd left. I’ve finally gotten some much needed beach time myself. Body painting was The Thing this season. I painted more tits and clits in two weeks than in the last ten years.

Back in the day most of my work came from setting up down at the carnival painting faces, or the occasional temporary tattoo on some co-ed’s cleavage, or airbrushing tee shirts. Back in the day college kids wore bathing suits on the beach. Then they went topless, then nude on the beach and barely covered on the street. Now they party at the clubs wearing nothing but body paint. I’m not complaining.
“Do you have time for one more before you close?”

I turn. She’s standing at the door, silhouetted in the evening sun. The light shines through her thin dress showing the outline of a beautifully curved body.

“Sure. Come on in.”

I walk by her and motion toward the painting area. Her scent is intoxicating; cocoa butter with a hint of salt air highlighted by jasmine perfume. I flip the sign on the door to Closed and walk back to my air-gun.

“What would you like done today?”

Her smile is filled with mischief. She drops the dress to her feet exposing dark tanned skin and nothing else. She steps toward me out of the dress, then turns, bends over and picks it up flaunting her smooth rear. She tosses the dress on a nearby chair and turns back to me.

“Something artistic. Be creative.”

“Well, I just cleaned my sprayer. Is it okay if I use brushes?”

“You’re the artist.”

I dip a brush in paint and outline her supple breasts. Then I fill them in with a larger brush. She takes a sharp breath as the wet brush glides across, then circles her firm nipple.

“I’ve missed you.” Her voice is breathy. “You’ve been so busy this season.”

I paint a single line from the side of her left breast, across her torso, then circle back around her navel. Her abdomen tightens.

“Painting all those firm young bodies day-after-day, mine must seem ancient.”


I walk around behind her and paint the bikini straps across her back. I kneel down and paint the line of a thong across her full hips then slide the brush playfully between her cheeks. Her knees bend and her thighs spread slightly apart.

I crawl around in front of her. She re-positions her feet further apart. I finish the line around her waist and outline the perfect V from hips to snatch. I start at her waist, working my way down, coloring in her hairless mound. She moans when the brush tip reaches her full lips. I take my time painting every crevice with soft delicate strokes.

I crawl under her, like Michelangelo painting the Sistine Chapel, teasing her with the bristles of my brush until her body tenses and quivers above me.

“Is this my anniversary present?” I ask.

She looks down at me, breathless, her eyes sparkling.

“You remembered.”

“Of course I did. You want to go down to the carnival later? I booked reservations at our favorite restaurant.”

I get up and turn on the fans to dry the paint while I clean my brushes.

“I thought you’d been so busy you forgot.”

I turn to her, caress her cheek, and kiss her soft lips.

“Happy Anniversary, my love.”

She slips back into her dress and we go out to celebrate forty wonderful years together.

David Moore is a freelance writer, literary blogger, and under his pseudonymMaxwell Cynn a best selling author in multiple genres. His psychological techno-thriller The Collective was top of its category on Amazon in 2011 while his cyber-erotic romance CybrGrrl also commanded that spot in the romance category. Several of his short stories, essays, and poems have found publication online, in newspapers, and in national magazines.

David is a classic introvert and Max is his extroverted alter ego – think Peter Parker and Spiderman (but with a southern accent and cowboy boots). As Max, David won his first literary contest, and first Kindle Reader, writing an erotic comedy (he didn’t know that genre existed). He enjoys writing an eclectic mix of topics and genres – essays, poetry, and fiction – and is an avid student of depth psychology, sociology, philosophy, and religion. His favorite series is “In Death” by J.D.Robb, he hates zombies, and his hero is William Shatner.


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