(Aphrodite–seen here on the left–dances with one of her favorite hoofers on casual Friday at the towers that are A Word with You Press!)
Literati, a question…
When you lose your libido, why is it always in the last place you look?
KYLE Katz has misplaced hers and finds it in the next 750 to 1,000 words, as her final entry into The First Annual Peggy Dobbs Write-of-Passage Contest. This is posting # 16 of the 24 I started publishing on our site since Thanksgiving, but having found two more in my Pandoras’s–oops!–I mean IN-box, that means I have ten more stories to post before I can announce the finalists,who will then write 250 words to the prompt “…but by then, it was too late.”
by Kyle Katz
The first time I wore my blue sassy boots was at a pole dancing class a decade ago. My libido had it’s own drum now…beating to the rhythm of nothing. No smoke, no sound, no leap of faith. I was just too tired to leap anywhere. In desperation I thought of answering a Craigslist ad.
Return to balance, grace and harmony.
Be a goddess at any age.
Call Afrodite-911. Serious inquires only!
I know…what was I thinking?
I called my friend Diane the physic, who would either give me the red or green light on these matters. She was my confident and I had total trust in her abilities. She looked for the ad, but it wasn’t there.
“There’s no ad here… a scam. Sorry my dear. It’s a red light.”
“What does she know?” I dialed the number in the ad.
“Hellooo” a sultry voice extended its reach, teasing my brain.
Her voice… so enchanting. I wanted to learn to say hello just like that.
“Hi there.” I responded.
“This is Afrodite-911. What is your emergency?”
“Well it’s not really an emergency, but I’d like to know if…”
The phone went dead. I re–dialed.
“ Somehow we were disconnected.”
“ No, I hung up. Didn’t you read the ad. Serious inquires only! Now call me back when….”
“No, no, please don’t hang up. It’s an emergency. I’m dying inside my own body.”
“We don’t deal with humans with medical problems. It’s a racket. Make love not war. You have a medical emergency, call that Dr. Oz fellow.”
“ Don’t hang up, it’s not medical, although the anxiety is starting to take its toll. The panic attacks are…”
“Lady, do you have sexual frustrations or not?”
“Well sort of…I mean yes.”
“Good. I’ll send you our questionnaire and you e-mail it back. Then we’ll see.”
“ We’ll see what ? Where are you?” I asked. “Where do you live? I didn’t recognize the area code.”
“I’m from Cyprus.”
“What’s your real name, if you don’t mind me asking.”
“Afrodite. My mother wanted to name me Tiffany, which I love. But my father Zeus was so controlling and stubborn.”
“Your father is Zeus? Really…”
“Please read up on your Greek Mythology. I can’t help you if you don’t know the basics.”
The phone went dead.
Her voice now only a whisper in my mind, rolled over me like a lustful rage of halleluiahs as I answered the questionnaire.
What would you be willing to do to express your desires?
Anything I answered.
What would you be willing to learn?
How would you act, if, you knew you were God’s gift to man?
Oh no! You can’t put God and my lost libido in the same sentence. They’re some things that just can’t be brought back. I was raised catholic. The guilt, the shame. My mom had nine children. No birth control. She hated life, I hated all those kids. Sacrificed every creative endeavor she aspired to. My father drank to relieve the tensions.
The past ponders and revelations twisted my trembling hands. Hyperventilating, my brown paper bag of panic attacks, fell to the floor and undressed themselves.
If you had a serious meltdown answering question three,
Congratulations! You are definitely a contender. Signed Aphrodite/ aka Tiffany, goddess of love.
We’ll be in touch…soon.
A pang from my computer interrupted my meltdown. I hope it’s my new friend from E-harmony, skyping me again. I quickly brushed my hair and applied red lipstick.
“Hellooo, I’m Aphrodite.”
A stunning woman penetrated the screen.
“Well you’re not at all what I imagined you to be.”
“Yeah I’m black. My dad… Latino, very hot tempered. Humans live in such a stereo type fantasy world.”
“ I meant ,you’re a lot more conservative and businesslike…for a goddess.”
“Woo hoo. Surprise. We’ve talked it over with the committee. You’ve got one quest to complete.”
“Go out into the world fearless and do something you would never do!”
“Don’t get arrested! You must have your event documented so we can tweet it. We need more viewer hits. Hopefully it will go viral. It’s all about content.”
I called Stefanie and ask her to meet me at Starbucks and to bring her new Smartphone and be ready for action. I bribed her with a six month supply of coffee.
I burst through Starbucks, screaming and singing at full capacity… “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by the Rolling Stones. I Shimmied toward Stefanie who yelled, “I don’t know her!”
These long legs, nestle in my blue sassy boots clung to muscled calves that danced and strutted across the floor. A thunderbolt of divine enlightenment from Zeus himself rumbled its way through a room full of hot caramel mocha frappachinos. The gods were pleased.
Like Aphrodite, I rose again from the foam of the sea, enchanting anyone who saw my goddess revival dance. My libido released from its prison. My vibrato escaped. The crowd stood, then chanted…“You get what you need.” I whipped my hair back n forth. “Hell, YEAH YOU DO!” My quest was complete.
I lay quietly on the sofa at home… exhilarated. The ping got my attention.
“Helloooo, It’s Afrodite. You went viral. The committee has selected you for our Global Goddess community extended life program. Women are living longer. We need help with the hot line.
“Madonna is busy. Tina Turner is meditating. Look I don’t have time for indecisiveness. You’re in or you’re out.”
The phone went dead. I called back.
“I’ll send you your handlers name. Follow the protocol. You start tomorrow.”
“You’ll do just fine.”
“Hellooo. This is Pandora. Yes…I understand. Don’t be afraid to unleash your sensuality. Open the box… then let it loose sista. I swear to you its not to late.”
“And how old are you Gladys?… What?
88?” The phone went dead.
30 thoughts on “You can’t always get who you taunt! KYLE Katz gets sassy”
I love, love, love this! Thanks, Kyle! Pandora, indeed… 😉
I love love, love that you loved it. It was so much fun to write. Signed Pandora/aka Sassy Boots.;)
So I’m still tripping around like an atom flying to crash head on at CERN. What a rush, what a read, what a woman this Kyle Katz is. How many pots of coffee did you have before you unleashed this story Kyle? The gods on Mount Olympus are applauding in the clouds of naughty pillars of chaos, gates of their local Starbucks and thrones. Here is a story which gets five green lights straight to the finals. The lightning bolts are a flying and the goddess is awaken. A rolling stone song from Kyle Katz gathers no red light; although I need to go hunting for one after reading this story. Do you hear me blue sassy boots? Start a walking.
Naughty pillars of chaos? Only you Parisianne. The goddesses are all awake now!
Was she inspired by a certain child who karaoked her way through a Starbucks almost four years ago? ^_~
And by the way: you can’t bribe me with coffee anymore. Not when I get it for free at work =D
I freakin’ loved this. What wouldn’t I give to even have half the courage to get up and shake what my mama gave me? Or rather, what years of eating pizza gave me?
And I don’t think they believed me when they saw us driving away together in the Ferrari…
Question 2… Red dress in lieu of my Blue sassy boots.
Question 3…You git a little freak in you too..huh. Shake it girl. nothing else matters.
The red Ferrari was on loan from Thorn…bonus prize.
…So THAT’S why he wouldn’t tell me what car he drives!!! Bad Thorn!
And when I get that Arwen gown from Holy Clothing, there will be a red dress!
Granny, I fiqured you’d find me again. I.tried to keep you out of this one. The last time you came in and rescued me from the healing center in Tibet, you left with implants…they looked good, but the dentures would have done just as well. I hope you liked the bikini and boots I sent you for Christmas. I’m having the pole engraved as we speak.” Ganny got Game” I’ll send it express mail. Please don’t alarm Gary.
Honey, I did get that bikini and boots you sent and I tried ’em on as soon as I got ’em outta the box. Now those boots were just a little too tall and rubbed me kinda raw up there where, well, you know, up there?, anyway, I’m gonna have to get ’em trimmed down a bit and I can prob’ly wear ’em to Cheater’s Bar Annual New Year’s dance. They only have that once a year, you know, so everybody sluts up real good and we put tin foil on the windows so the Lord can’t see what’s goin on.
The bikini was just the thing! I jumped in that sexy thang and slithered outside and was doin’ my Dougie Dance in the yard when my left implant slipped out of the cup and the nipple ring struck a piece of flint rock layin’ there beside the porch. Well, that set up a fireworks expo that you’d have to pay to see on Forth of July.
So, Merry Christmas to you and urin and Tanks for the Mammories.
Thanks Granny. Keep your sassy going strong. I swear it’s not to late!
Such a great read… keep up the good work sassy blue boots!! <3 it!!!
Thanks for reading my entry.
This leads the reader in with easy humor but tackles a serious issue. You do a delicate dance with the dialogue and surprise us at the end. This is a great story for a lighthearted coffee break, but also makes the reader eager for the next installment on the 88 year old Gladys. (And if you want to feel like a goddess, go to Italy or France, where every woman is appreciated as she should be)
Exactly! This genre is what I really have fun with. I write a lot of short stories about how women really feel and want to feel or dream of feeling. But always an undertow of seriousness. How many times are woman told that all they needed for the hormone thing, or some other change that pops up in our lives is an anti-depressant…a happy pill? When all they needed was a trip to Italy and a pair of Sassy Boots. BTW I have a friend who is 78. The Queen of Sassy Boot-ism. You know we have to be Facebook friends now. I’m Feeling Ya!!!
Well, I once ‘streaked’ at a high school basketball game, wearing nothing but a ski mask and tennis shoes…does that count as much as your Starbucks karyokey (lol) gig? LOL I enjoyed your story, got whiplash between the phone hangups, the Cyprus reference and all the bouncing around between Greek Mythology and Carmel Frappachi-chinos or whatever you call em (I like mine black and hot–no room). Toss in the ‘gods’ pressing your viral show into servitude, well, you end up with a fun story to read and ponder! Thanks, Kyle, with a Zeus thunderclap, you’ve done it again!
Ski mask and tennis shoes. Wild man you! Whiplash? How do you think I felt. YOU thought this was fiction? It WAS fun.Whiskey Rivers..I swear to you..Its too late to streak in a ski mass and tennis shoes. Boots and a night shirt in Wall Mart is safe though. LOL
I really dig Greek mythology brought down from Mount Olympus and finding a terrestrial home in a flash. You handled this one superbly!
Thanks Sal. Just flashing MY shorts. Please forgive me!
Your story is so creative! I was completely entertained….. The ending was so perfect!
This one I just wanted to have crazy fun and let loose.I usually entertain myself. It’s pathetic, in a twisted way. Thank God I’m so grounded. Glad you enjoyed it Miryam.
I so needed a good laugh today. God I love your writing. I’m getting a bit better now but still feeling the effects of the twin MAC trucks that ran over me. This is just what I needed. Think I can be sassy now! And no blue boots in sight!!!! Maybe I’ll paint my feet blue – oh wait they all ready are – its cold outside. I’ll just find some elf boots and call it good! LOVE THIS!!!! And thanks for the less then stellar plug on my abilities…some days are good and some – well I’m not talking about those!!!!
Life sometimes is a joke. Fall off your platform shoes, get run over by a bus. Hang yourself from a ceiling cause you drank way to much coffee. Then but your sassy boots on, go out in public, singing and dancing as Michael Stang waits in a bar with short pants and a long red jacket, drinking shots. I say GO for it.
Me and Stang doing shots…at this point I’m all for that!!!! Me in my green or blue elf boots and tights, gypsy skirt, green velvet shirt and him in a long red jacket…now that’s a vision that would shake the hardiest of us. I think at that point – even the ghosts would back off…but we are having fun!!!!
The images. Oh no. Can’t remove those images!
I know – me either…
Blue feet and elf boots? Your abilities are right on! This I have had personal knowledge of. Had to have the first twist somewhere. All fantasy. Shows the desperation of the character. “Not paying attention to her friend” Thanks for playing along. I’m glad I could make you laugh. Now go get Sassy!
Okay, Ms Afrodite, listen up. What we have here is showtime. Everything but the pink Caddy and a stellar romance through madness. But what knocked my pants off was your groove. Inspiring, directive, insane-funny. Go get em.
Oh Thank You Mike. I was so hoping you’d chime– in and saddle up for the ride of frenzied madness. I do own a pair of royal blue strechy boots, makes me look like wonder woman. I walked into the Towers one evening to join the critique group with my boots on, to read one of my power woman stories. Tiffany Bee called me Sassy Boots. This story was inspired by her.