It's about who can bring him to his knees, and that makes it--distasteful. But she is here, with the other girls, and her position in the order, her rank, her future earnings, all depend on this moment. So she uses the aphrodisiac perfume, and she oils her skin and paints her face and coils her hair to tumble over her shoulders. Then she chooses a dress that covers her from neck to toe but is, in the right light, faintly transparent. She knows what approach most of the others will be using, the ploys, the revealed skin, the sexual appeal. The things that should work on every man. She studied this one, though. A gladiator, one who did not pander to the crowds. A hard man, but not a crude one, and smart. He despises their society, and she cannot disagree with him totally. But she knows the things he's stood and acted as an entertainment for--


Inspiration: Some rock song.
Story Potential: High.
Notes: Think a cross between Spartacus (the TV series) and Kushiel's Dart. Not my usual style, but it would click for a certain audience.

"Thank you, husband!" she exclaimed, taking the delicately wrapped gift from him. He smiled, then gestured to all the porters behind him to bring in the goods that he had traded for. "It was a good trip, wife," he said, "our fortunes grow and prosper." He didn't see the quick turn aside that she made at the mention of his trip. To him, it was inevitable that they should part and go their separate ways for nine months out of the year--or sometimes even longer--as he plied his trade overseas and later brought home the results of his trading to fill the family coffers and to dress her and keep her in the manner that she deserved. They had--

Inspiration: Drinking tea *my* husband brought me as a gift, and pondering on how men are so pleased when they successfully hunt/gather something their woman likes.
Story Potential: High
Notes: She's without male company most of the year. It would be an interesting thing to take Beauty & the Beast and Persephone & Hades--but with the wife instead of a daughter. Of course, she probably has daughters, or other children. A woman settling reluctantly into middle age, perhaps. And with Italian influences, I think, though I'm not sure why.

They were obsolete. They sat on the shop's back cabinet and sighed to each other. "Nobody likes blondes anymore," complained the curvaceous doll.

The redhead scoffed at her. "That's not true, silly. Just nobody likes you. I saw the markers out front--blondes sell most."

"Why not me?"

"Because you're not the type they're looking for," the brunette spoke up, turning her head and staring directly at them with her empathic brown eyes. "They're looking for the later dolls."

"Those things?" the blonde protested. "You can't hardly tell they're supposed to be human!"

"They're not," chimed in the black-haired doll reclining on top of the cabinet, inspecting her nails. "They're something else. We're all meant to be human--"

Status: Written as "Unloved Dolls." Published under a pseudonym at Ruthie's Club (currently closed, plans to reopen in 2010) in the Valentine's Day 2009 issue.


Inspiration: "obsolete"
Story Potential: High. I find this creepy.
Notes: Right, so the (Japanese and elsewhere) trend for sex dolls, along with more human-like robots and better AI, is naturally leading in this direction. Duh. That's old news. But when the more human-like models swing out of fashion? What do they do? This could be done as erotica, but I think it would be more effective played as...ahem...straight science fiction. Heck, I could write 'em both.

The twitter of her voice annoyed him, but he couldn't be bothered to reprogram her for silence. Too much work. Just like actually going out to get real food, and not just the damn processed bars, was too much work. Just like calling his folks was too much work. Just like televidding the shrink that his job counselor had recommended after he'd been fired from his sixteenth position was too much--ok, actually, televidding the shrink would be more work. He sweated over her as she twittered and cooed. He'd bought her when times were flush and it looked like he could afford a few luxuries. Now he kept her because, against his will, he'd gotten more attached to her. . .even the twitter.

Inspiration: Strange but true--yesterday's freewriting. Just don't ask me how I got 'twitter' from 'viper'.
Story Potential: High. Not in and of itself, but I kinda really like the set-up. Not sure if I would play it straight sci-fi or erotica yet, though. Hmm.
Notes: Yes, there are still losers in the future. But sometimes really awful things happen to them, and they become interesting in their own, still-twisted way.