Spencer Moseley

I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag and set it on the dock. I put my iced coffee on my desk, grateful that I didn't have a coaster. This office didn't deserve my respect. I typed in my password, hit enter, and watched as the circle of dots spun at varying speeds.  "Could I see you in my office?" asked Diane, my manager, standing uncomfortably close to me at the cubicle entrance.  "Of course," I said with the best smile I could produce.  I sat down opposite her after sliding the glass door of her office suite closed behind me. She definitely wasn't afraid of eye contact, and she also wasn't afraid of looking pissed off. I met her gaze as best I could, already figuring what this was about. I felt my whole body heat up with microwave speed.  "You weren't working by 8 am," she said. She folded her hands together in front of her on the desk. I held onto the wooden chair rails like they were keeping me from falling. "I was at my ...

I had practiced this move so many times, but I couldn't do it now. I wasn't feeling it. The bow felt extra heavy in my hand, like it was made of iron. I looked over and saw Christopher and Martin talking to each other and looking at me out of the corner of their eyes. They were laughing quietly. I laughed too as if they'd told me the joke too, and their confused reaction to my laugh made me turn away quite quickly. I consoled myself thinking, Maybe they're not laughing at me. In fact, I have no clue what they're talking about.  The fact that the words "in fact" were part of my inner monologue made me laugh. Perhaps my inner self was a scholarly monk. I pulled the bow string back and felt the arrow wobble around my shaky finger. Catherine, standing next to me, had already fired off two shots.  I could do better than that, I thought. Not because she's a girl, of course. Of course! This gave me a surge of courage. Not only because I felt superior to her b...

His hands drifted over his body wherever they would and found a safe place. His hair smelled like salt and red roses. They danced together, swaying to the sound of the breeze. He imagined the pair of them slowly floating above the earth and standing on top of the sun, body to body, collecting the sun's heat. They would glow brighter and brighter and then had to return to earth to not burst into flame.  No one can spend that much time on the sun. He imagined catching the sun's rays and watching them turn to liquid gold in his hands. He imagined it was a smooth, thick liquid; and he and his partner covered themselves in it until they maintained the sun's glow without having to be on the sun itself.  They walked hand in hand all over the earth, collecting flowers together. For that was their life's purpose. God had told them so.  They multiplied the flowers. They multiplied the love they shared with every living being, man and beast.  Raccoons even got a taste of the su...

There was this fucking fairy. I'd created it to survey the lands and report back to me. But lately it would just fuck. I was lowkey jealous of how easily this fairy got pussy. Or dick. Or both at the same time. In weird positions. I watched like a creep as my creation galivanted around the hillsides just power fucking. Like what the fuck. Why wasn't I getting any but my stupid little fairy was Lord Dionysus himself? He'd report back to me and I pretended to find his findings helpful, "A wench at the Rusty Tavern says you're not a fit ruler," he'd say. Or, "Brenden the bold challenges you to a duel."  I hadn't the heart to tell him his "findings" sucked. I was self-aware enough to know that my anger was more at myself than my fairy. I hadn't the courage to approach damsels or knights and just straight up say things like, "you're hot, how would you like a toss in the hay?"  On the other hand, I felt that criticizing ...

Ya don't say! I said.  Why'd you say that? I asked myself. I anxiously did something weird with my hands. That must be what that bitch means by my anxious motions, I thought. Meh. She was right. I shouldn't feel so annoyed with her for just calling me out. Just felt like a power imbalance. Like she could correct me on shit but if I returned the favor, suddenly it's a problem. Even though her public speaking delivery was about as energized as a turtle who'd just hit a blunt.  Fortunatelyyyy Maggie didn't mind what I'd said and smiled and a small laugh slipped out. Not forced, I noticed. I liked how her smile was small on her face. Because her face was rather round and made her whole mouth look small. Like one of those weird paintings.  I gave her the ice cream cone that had slightly dripped on my thumb and she started licking it. I couldn't help feeling a little turned seeing her tongue like that. My brain immediately wandered. But then we sat down and ta...

He bent over, unsure if he wanted to be there but already committed. It was immediate, no buildup. He moaned. Not with pleasure. But with what he'd heard others do in videos. It seems right, he thought, pushing the man's chest to where the man was now on his back while he did the riding. It wasn't bad, but he wasn't getting much pleasure from the experience. At least, not as much as the man was. He reflected that it might be nice to hop off and get the man an Uber right then. But that felt selfish. He allowed things to continue. Then he lay back and let the man finish on his stomach. Now that was unpleasant.  The man kissed him, telling him how his noises had helped him get there. It felt like a pro sport post game interview. He nodded and smiled hoping it looked genuine. He didn't quite feel like he was in his body. Literally. He saw himself from the side of the bed and watched the man hovering over him, breathing heavily. He watched himself smile and could see fro...