Bernie Jenkins lives in Carlow, Ireland. She is a mum of 3 wonderful children. She is attending IT Carlow College as a full time student doing a BA in Social Studies. She works for Tescos Ireland and writes poetry and short stories in her spare time.
Scent of a Stranger
By Bernie Jenkins
Pulling her into him she thought this moment would never last. She had longed for it for so long and now it was here, would she be able to chase his scent around? Leting him have his way seemed like the only option if he was to accept her. This is what she thought in her head unable to see how beautiful she really was? Who she could be? Where she was destained to go in life? It was like she had cut off her path and painted it with only one colour his? As his lips drew her in even more as the race of the chase began to take hold, she gathered him cuped in her eyes. Looking into them as his shut closed she seen something that made her wonder to herself her own reflection. Even tough he made her feel more exotic than the wildest flower that needs to be nurtured this just seemed to not fill the ache in her sad heart. Her lips clung harder to his, as if she was trying to push back these thoughts of wanting more from life. Lifting her up , he moved her away from the traces of her mind. Oh is this what she really wanted ? Him , her in this place steaming up the room with lust and emotions that could explode at any time. The window had a frosted glaze over it but was not cold to the touch as he moved up against it. She felt the warmth of the tainted glass against her naked waist. The silk sheet fell lowering her strenght. She was fighting at will not to think beyond this night but everything was spinning in her mind. This was no easy ride for her. As for him he was like a hungry wolf wanting his kill and trill all in the same foul swoop.
Tempting her with trails of melted sugar. He took her by the hand in to the room of the forbidden. Oh this was like a paradise of light. A shimmering scene indeed. Beautiful shadows cast their way along each curve of the walls, as he lay her up against the paint work. She was dripping with excitement as his hunger filled his veins ruuning at lightening speed. He was like a run away train there was no brakes going to stop him. No shackles to burdon his feelings from been served. A feast fit for a queen he gave her that very minute. She clung to him as he showed her the way. As their hearts began to beat like drums in a distance away, She yearned looking out the window slowly opening them and then closing her eyes again almost in slow motion. The slight movement of his dirt filled shoes threw dust in the air. Like fumes of a tunnel in darkness waiting for something to fill the gap. He stood back for an instance looking at her beauty as she smiled gently she knew he wanted more. Would she give it? feed it ? Leting volumes of sound fall for that moment was the slice in her cake that she needed to stop the noise in her head. The chain she thought was missing a link or two didnt seen so loose anymore. The fact that he had stood back and gave her control was just what she needed that very minute. As he shifted his head from the dusting floor she reached out for him. This made the lines on his cheeks form a smile of utter cuteness. His shy eyes were so vulnerable and she just loved this in him. Going from been the one making all the moves and decision. He had made her the queen she was in charge of the chess board now. He said to her ‘ It your move ?’ Power filled her once sucked blood. As a pallette of wonder replaced her once empty look something great happened next. The door shut closed and the dust emptied out. A single chair had a reason to be there now. She pushed him towards it and sat down on his legs over them. His hungry driven eyes wild with excitement longed to please her. It was now her turn to show him just what a woman really needed? What she needed in that moment? The fog lifted from the window frame. ‘Let the games begin ‘, she said. His face said it all.
The Galway Review 
It is not my intention to be cruel, but I am amazed this piece was even submitted or indeed got past the moderators. The spelling and grammar is very poor, while the vocabulary used is intermediate English at best. No flow to the story, no structure, sentences too short and the author needs to learn how to correctly use a comma. My sincere advice to the author is not to give up the day job, My goodness she/he can’t even spell for goodness sake, is this a joke?
I joined WordPress just to post a comment here, but regardless of that inconvenience, here I am. With the greatest of respect to the author, this is not up to scratch by any stretch of the imagination. The story itself is very cliche and I lost interest after the first of many grammatical and spelling errors. Whilst I agree that the level of writing and English is well below par and that the author doesn’t demonstrate a flair for writing, I don’t feel it necessary for Mary to be so coarse in her critique. We all have to start somewhere and Bernie Jenkins is to be commended for her courage, well done honey! That said I have enjoyed the other short stories and poetry on this website and wish everyone the very best of luck with their literary endeavors.
Thank you Mary and Jenny for your comments. Your entitled to have your opinion and i will take it on board. My writing is not rehearsed it comes straight to me and i write from within. I must be doing something right or i would not of been allowed to submit it. I thank you again for your feedback. Harsh comments and all are welcome , i have no problems with honesty.
It’s you’re not ‘your’…I would not ‘have’ (‘of’ is awful grammar) Remember how and when to use capital letters, such as ‘I’. I suspect your ‘story’ was not checked by the moderators before being posted here. Bernie, this is a website for serious writers, so I would respectfully ask you to learn the fundamental basics of your native language before posting here.