CHALLENGE 31: Character Development

[IsabellaRose]

THE CHALLENGE

Here's three prompts to help you make your character more real in your head and to your readers. Choose one and use it to write your submission for this challenge.

1. Write a journal entry from a pivotal day in your character’s life.
2. Write a therapy session between your character and their therapist.
3. Show your character making a selfish decision and the ramifications it has on their life.

Deadline

• Midnight (EST) Saturday, 25 May 2024

Limits

• 1 entry per person
• no strict word limit, but please try to keep it around 2,000 words- remember, everyone has to read these to vote

Prizes

• 1st Place: 4,000 EcchiCredits
• 2nd Place: 2,000 EcchiCredits
• 3rd Place: 1,000 EcchiCredits

 

Edited June 1 by IsabellaRose

[WritesNaughtyStories]

"Afternoon, Malcom." The much younger woman greeted her patient as he sank into the chair across from her.

"Hey," he replied limply, hardly lifting his hand from the arm of the chair to give a weak wave.

She pointed at the older man with one finger, casually flicked out from her folded hands, "What's up? Not like you to be this clearly upset."

He rubbed both temples with one hand, thumb and forefinger stretched across his forehead and his hand shielding his face. "It's bad, Nancy."

"Hopefully we can sort that out."

He dropped his hand to the arm of the pale upholstered chair and looked at the woman. He sighed, trying to figure out where to start.

Nancy gave him a moment, but seeing he was stalled asked, "What happened?"

He looked at his lap then up at her before his gaze drifted to the window. "I slept with my partner's daughter."

"Partner?" She asked, trying to determine what kind of partner.

He turned his pale blue eyes from the window to her professionally neat, unassuming face. "Harv. We've been friends for," he paused, drifting across nearly half a.century to his childhood, "I dunno, 50 years? We've been business partners for half that time."

"I was the best man at both of his weddings. He was the best man at mine and let me live in his pool house for a month when I got divorced."

Nancy gave a sagely nod, "I can see how this is stressful, can you tell me how this happened?"

The older man looked between his feet as he tried to find his words. Not the right words, just some words that fit together.

"She - Vickie, Victoria -" Vickie mattered in this, Nancy knowing her name seemed important, "was studying abroad and just came home after the year. Big coming home party at Harvey's place. The kind of thing I'd been to over there a thousand times. Hell, I went to most of Vickie's birthday parties when she was a kid. "

He shook his head, trying to clear it of the creepy, predatory feeling that hung like a stalking shadow. It dispersed to the recesses of his mind for the moment and he jerked back to the more recent past.

"Turns out she failed everything. Complete waste of a year. Harv is pissed, disappointed, trying to salvage a party that's a total shit show. His ex it there, she's pissed too. Alice, Vickie's stepmom, is upset too, she loves her like she's her own and has always been good to, and with, Vickie."

"Kid's feeling pretty busted so I have her get us a couple of beers and sit her at the patio table while her friends swim and her dad cooks burgers and tries not to scowl."

"I figure, it's not a total loss - learning from failures, the adventure and personal growth of a year away from home. I dropped out of college and started pouring concrete while Harv got a degree in engineering. Business needs us both... So I want to let her know, it's not all over. The expanse matters too."

"Seems like a caring, supportive approach." Nancy offered, trying to plant her own seed that things weren't always a total disaster.

"That's kinda what I thought. Anyway, I ask her what happened and she hems and haws around, and finally says she started partying, drinking, skipping class - that's not Vickie. You don't just start partying - something happens. So I asked. Boy seemed the most likely thing, but she shook that off. I asked if it was a girl, I could see how worrying about her mom, dad and Alice's reactions could be scary, but that was an easy no too."

Mac started fidgeting, "So I sat there, looking at her like, 'Don't BS me' and she says, 'It was a man. An older man."

He nodded to himself more than Nancy, "I could see why that might cause a problem. Harv would have taken - will take? that worse than a girl. I asked why she started partying with this guy, but it was after he dumped her because she wouldn't have sex with him."

He stared out the window for a long moment, losing himself in a solitary bird pinioning it's way over the crowded street. He sighed and looked back at the therapist.

"Here's the dumb part. I was still in 'the experience is the important part of learning' mode' and said, 'Why not?'"

Nancy gave him a doubtful look, "It sounds like maybe your were setting it up. Were you?"

"I don't think so. In the moment it seemed like if I was that kid, I'd've fucked him. But she said she wanted her first time to be special. I told her your first time will be special. It will be awkward, scary, exciting and will leave you wondering if you did the right thing and somehow still be the most amazing experience.... Next thing you know, she follows me into her dad's office. I'd headed there to get some space, but she showed up and asked me about my first time. I told her how the girl's kisses tasted like grape lip gloss and even the smell of grape soda takes me right back to that moment."

"Could you have said something else? Maybe not shared that kind of information."

He nodded, "Easy to see that now. So begs me to wait there in Harv's office with the bottle of scotch I bought him for his birthday. She goes and finds a goddamn grape Lip Smacker... One thing leads to another..."

"So, tell her that it was wrong. That you feel like you took advantage of her and it needs to stop."

"We had that conversation while we had sex. We agreed that would be best."

"So what's the problem?"

"We really like each other and neither of us are willing to do that."

Nancy sighed. "Yeah, that's going to be a problem. Look, Mac, I can't tell you what's right, but this could cost you a lifelong friendship, your business.-"

"Or the love of my life" he interrupted.

Edited May 17 by WritesNaughtyStories
Tidying up

[IsabellaRose]

15 May 2024

I kissed a girl. Fuck. I kissed a girl. 
Mom and Dad, wedding's off. I'm a lesbian.
fuck

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck FUCK

What am I going to do? The wedding is in three days THREE FUCKING DAYS and I kissed a girl I've known my whole life and it felt better than anything I've ever done with Liam. EVER. Just her lips... god. I am so fucked. 

It's just a thing. It's new, infatuation or something. It's me being nervous. cold feet. last minute jitters. 

How did this even happen? We were just talking, like always. Just talking and then kissing. I guess I should write it down so when Mom or Dad or Liam kills us both at least someone will know what happened. 

She was looking at me, and I don't know why I did it but I leaned across and just kissed her. No, back up. 

We were talking. The wedding. Plans, flowers. That's what it was. Mom had called with the five millionth thing I got wrong. Something about flowers and the centerpieces... fuck I don't even remember. It's so fucking unimportant. The whole damned wedding is just a show. His family expects this big production and Mom can't ever look like she's not in control of every goddam facet of my life.

I was mad. I remember being angry with Mom. Shit, when am I ever NOT angry with Mom. She just... ugh. You'd think she was getting married, or being judged by my wedding. Well, with her friends, she probably is. Bunch of fake fucking bitches stabbing each other in the back as soon as one's not there. Those women are terrible. Yes, if I'm dead and you're reading this, that means you Camila. You lie and steal and I know you fucked Bob while Charlotte was out of town. EVERYONE KNOWS YOU AND BOB ARE FUCKING. Charlotte probably knows but you're all so fucking fake and full of shit that she won't admit to it because she's fucking that kid who mows her lawn. Jesus. He's nineteen, Charlotte, you fucking cradle robber. The whole lot of them are just a fucking reality show waiting to happen. Fuck them.

And that's probably half of it, isn't it? I'm going to end up just like them, building a perfect little life from the big circus sideshow wedding to the fucking day they bury me beside my Wall Street husband in our matching caskets and headstones that don't say shit abut how miserable our lives really were. None of them are faithful, or even happy. They're all just a bunch of vindictive, petty monsters trying to outdo each other. Their daughters and daughters-in-law are the same. Fake smiling at each other while they secretly hate each other. And I'm going to be one of them. I'm going to join the ranks of the rich, never have to work, fake bitches with no real friends. That's going to be my life. Fucking horrible.

But Elizabeth... she's not like them. She never has been. Her dad didn't start out like the rest of us, he earned his money. Started a business, made it big, moved into the rich neighborhood and started moving in our social circles. It must have been hell on them, all these bullshitters. But it never affected Elizabeth. 

She was always herself, always spoke her mind and her own opinions. She didn't just go along like everyone else. I think that's what made me want to hang out with her. She wasn't just another cookie cutter jello mold clone. She was herself. She was different. She challenged everything I knew. We hit it off. She was funny, made me laugh so much. We were best friends til college. Then we went our separate ways. I hadn't seen her for a couple years when I got engaged. But she came to be by my side. My maid of honor. She was there through all of it.

And that night she just sat there looking perfect, no judgment, just honesty and friendship, and I kissed her. 

Wait, remember it all. This is important. Mom had called. Flowers. I got mad. Elizabeth said... what did she say, again?

I had Mom on speaker, just answered quick and she started in with flowers are wrong and the centerpieces... what, some candle thing she wanted in the center of the flowers...? I don't even remember. I do remember the last thing she said.

"I'll just do it myself then, darling, like I always do. You tried, but someone has to get things right. It's a wonder Liam ever proposed." And then hung up. No goodbye. No nothing. Just gone.

I said to the phone, "I wish he hadn't."

Elizabeth just looked at me. That look. She couldn't believe what I'd said. Neither could I, if I'm honest. I love Liam. I do. I mean. He's a great guy. Handsome. Smart. Charming. He's everything you could want in a husband. Stable. Rich. He's a good guy. He really is. A catch. 

but...

Elizabeth said, "Well Mom's still a bitch." 

We both laughed. Then she got serious. 

"You know, if you don't want to get married, you don't have to."

As if it were that easy. I was three days away from the culmination of a year-long engagement. You don't walk away from something like that. I was committed.

"It's not that I don't want to..." How could I explain duty, commitment, familial obligation, to someone who'd never bowed down to those traditions in her entire life?

"It sounds like you don't want to." She was so amazingly independent. I could never be like her.

"I love Liam."

"You can love him and not marry him." Matter of fact. She was always that blunt.

"It's not that easy..." My tone told her she was right even if my words denied it. 

"It's exactly that easy. Call it off. If you doubt for a minute that this is the man for you, then call it off. Will people get mad? Sure. But they'll get over it."

"You don't know my family."

"I do. Your mother will be a bitch about it and make you feel like you ruined her life. Your father will... do what he always does. Go golfing, drink scotch, smoke those cigars."

"I can't just..."

Elizabeth had stared at me then. One finger under my chin to lift my face to hers. Her gaze was one of authoritative compassion. She was in charge, but she was empathetic, kind. When she spoke...

"You will never make your mother happy. No matter what you do, no matter how much you try to change yourself, she will always tear you down. She always has. She is a narcissist. She has to tear you down, and she can't let you be happy, because the happier and stronger you are, the less hold she has over you, and the less she is able to shame you."

Jesus. She was so right. "I... she..."

"She's your mother. She's supposed to be there for you. But she's only there for herself, for how you reflect on her."

I just nodded. I couldn't look in her eyes, and pulled away, looked down. She hugged me, the strong, supportive hug of a friend, exactly what I needed.

"Yeah, she's pretty terrible. But you don't understand. I can't just..."

"Walk away?" Elizabeth pulled back from the hug. "You absolutely can. Come stay with me. Downstairs is practically a separate apartment. You don't even have to see me unless you want to. Just take some time, reflect, find yourself. Don't jump into this if you don't want it one hundred percent.

"Listen, your friends here are all making the same mistakes. They're rushing into their cookie cutter lives because they think they have to. Is that what you want? Playing house and fucking the pool boy while your husband goes golfing and bangs his secretary? Jesus, I thought you were different from the rest of them. I thought you might have actually found something real, because the girl I grew up with would never sell herself out and settle for the same shit we used to make fun of the adults for.

"I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy. I want you to do what you want to do for you. Not for your mom. Not for Liam. Not for looks. Do what you want. What makes YOU happy. Don't do it for me. Do it for yourself."

And that was the moment. We were sitting at the table. She had just dropped more reality in my lap than anyone had in, probably my whole life. I looked at her, just sitting there looking perfect, no judgment, just honesty and friendship, and I don't know why I did it but I leaned across and just kissed her.

...and
it
was
perfect.

That moment. That kiss. Her lips were soft, she seemed surprised, but then she reacted, let it happen, gave herself to the moment. It lasted forever. It was a lifetime in that one kiss. But it was only a moment, time frozen, a heartbeat that encompassed eternity.

When it was over we both just stared at each other. 

"I'm sorry," I said too quickly.

"Don't be," she said, seeming surprised, but not offended.

Neither of us spoke for a long time. Finally she broken the silence.

"I'm not," she started, then stopped. "I mean, I never." It was the only time I'd ever seen her uncertain. "I never kissed another woman before," was what she settled on. 

"Me either," I said. "I'm sorry."

She smiled, that same reassuring smile that always made me feel better. "No, don't be sorry. I... I have to process this. But if it's what you felt, what you feel, I'm glad you did it."

"I don't want it to change... I need you, as a friend."

"I'll always be your friend," she said and hugged me again. "And this is new. I'm not scared of it, but... all things considered, I think it's safest for both of us if we take a step back, make sure we're not reacting to a moment. If it's real, it will still be real when the excitement of the moment is gone."

I nodded. Then I looked at her, and for the first time in a long time, I asked for something I wanted just for me.

"That makes sense, but..." I leaned back from the hug, arms still around her, and asked my question. "Can we do it one more time?"

We did. It was even more amazing.

Mom, Dad. I'm leaving this here for you. You'll never understand, but at least you'll know why. I'm going to California to stay with Elizabeth. I don't know what's going to happen. I don't even know if we're going to try dating. I just know that I can't pretend anymore. I can't pretend to be something I'm not just to make you happy. I deserve to be happy, too.

And honestly, the peace I feel making this decision, the inner peace I finally feel, is worth being the villain in your story.

Edited May 17 by IsabellaRose

[MagnificentBastard]

May 14, 2024
 
The dawn broke with a soft, golden hue filtering through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room. It was a serene moment, a calm before the storm of emotions that I knew would soon engulf me. Today, of all days, felt like a surreal dream that I never wanted to wake up from.
 
The air was charged with a palpable sense of excitement and anticipation, almost as if the very walls of the quaint Italian church were humming with energy. Downstairs, I could hear the muffled and hurried sounds of movement as the final preparations for the day ahead unfolded. There was a nervous energy in the air, a jittery undercurrent that belied the outward appearance of calm.
 
I stole a glance at the suit hanging on the door, meticulously pressed and waiting for its moment to shine. It was a symbol of the gravity of the day, a tangible reminder that today wasn't just any ordinary day. Today was the culmination of years of love, laughter, and shared dreams. Today was the day I pledged my heart to the woman who had become my everything, my Theresa.
 
Slipping into the suit felt like stepping into destiny itself, each button a small step closer to the rest of my life. Memories flooded my mind, a montage of moments that had shaped us and brought us to this point. The late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours of the morning, the spontaneous adventures that left us breathless with laughter, the quiet moments of solace that whispered promises of forever. The carnal nights with her naked body pressed against mine as we indulged in our carnal desires until we were utterly spent.

I stood before the mirror, adjusting my tie with trembling hands, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling within me. There was a part of me that had been terrified of the unknown, of the uncharted waters that lay beyond the threshold of "I do." But there was a larger part of me that had been filled with an overwhelming sense of joy, knowing that I was about to embark on this journey hand in hand with the woman I loved. The knowledge that no matter what happened that day, no matter what obstacles we might face in the days, months, and years to come, we would face them together.
 
Finally, the moment arrived, and I found myself standing at the altar, heart pounding in my chest as I watched her make her entrance. She was radiant, a vision of beauty and sex appeal that took my breath away. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the world falling away until there was nothing left but her and me and the promises we'd made to each other.
 
As we exchanged vows, I felt a lump form in my throat, threatening to choke off the words before they could escape. But somehow, I found the strength to speak, to pour my heart out in front of our closest friends and family. And when she said her vows, her voice steady and sure, I knew without a doubt that I was the luckiest man in the world.
 
The rest of the day unfolded like a dream, a whirlwind of laughter and tears, joy and celebration against the backdrop of the magnificent church in Italy. My best friend's speech, while embarrassingly funny, had lightened the mood and added a touch of levity to the proceedings. His anecdotes about our misadventures had brought laughter to the room, even as they'd threatened to turn my face crimson with embarrassment.
 
But amidst the humor and revelry, my eyes had kept returning to her, my beautiful bride. She had looked resplendent in her gown, an ethereal vision that seemed to glow with an inner light. Her smile had been like sunshine on a rainy day, warming my heart and soothing my soul. In that moment, I'd been reminded once again of just how lucky I was to have her by my side.
 
As the night had drawn to a close, and we'd stolen a quiet moment alone together, I'd been filled with a sense of contentment that had surpassed anything I'd ever known. The surrealness of the day had begun to fade, replaced by a deep sense of joy and fulfillment. This, I'd realized, was what it meant to be truly happy—to stand beside the person you loved, surrounded by friends and family, and know that together, you could weather any storm.
 
In the end, it hadn't been the grand gestures or the extravagant displays that had mattered most. It had been the quiet moments of connection, the shared glances and inside jokes, the simple act of being together that had made that day so special. And then came the wedding night, but such a wild night of passion deserves it's own entry.