Welcome to the Wakefield Doctrine (the theory of clarks, scotts and rogers)
This is our contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop
Denise the host.
(It’s no secret that one of the pleasures/benefits we derive from participation in this bloghop is the opportunity to learn from others and, with any luck, improve our own word skills. By imitation, if not education. In any event, last week Chris wrote this installment in her serial story, ‘The Jade Camel’ that was pure action, from start to finish. So, naturally, we thought, “Damn! I’d love to be able to do that.” As we all know, when it comes to writing fiction, the best way to learn is through constant practice.)
The prompt word:
STROKE
The door to his hotel suite was on the receiving end of the only free appendage available to Brother Abbott, specifically, his left foot. The rest of his body was committed to winning the heart of Eugénie Descartes who, giving up hope of physical resistance, deployed wave after wave of blonde hair down over his face, hoping to undermine his confidence in the precise location of his bed.
The young woman, her heart taking leave of the earth as her feet left the floor, noticed the man becoming mired by indecision whether to continue his initial romantic sortie while standing or doubling down on his physical advantage in the waiting bed. He badly underestimated the price of consulting his brain in matters of the body, confronting the row of buttons down the back of the waitress’s blouse, a simple but effective defense; victory in love’s timeless battle would, pyrrhic or not, appear to be within the woman’s grasp.
Now, on the silk and pillow-strewn battlefield, Eugénie took matters in her own hands and, pulling the offending article of clothing over her head, paused, knee-upright on the bed and waved it over her head, cheerful traitor signaling the castle keep was his for the taking. A lesser man might attribute the outcome of the night as testament to his skill with women, even while acknowledging the chance stroke of luck; Brother Abbott, having had his view of the world enhanced by his time in the Order of Lilith, smiled at what a fool Adam had been.