Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction Week # 43

Welcome back!  This week’s judge is last week’s runner up, EveryDayBella!

Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 43 judge

EveryDayBella is a 24 year old preschool teacher from Texas. She loves barbecue, a good beer, and good read. She has always been creative but only discovered writing within the last several years and fell in love with words. She writes Twilight fan-fiction and is currently plotting her first original fiction.


If you’re unfamiliar with the usual Sinful Sunday Flash Fiction contest rules, please check them out.

The photo prompt is meant for inspiration, but you must use both prompts in some way. Have fun with it, and synonyms are accepted! (If you use a word other than the synonyms listed, please include that information after your entry.) The word minimum is 100, maximum 200, and don’t forget to include your word count and twitter handle!


Word Prompt

Ragtime girl: Americanism of the 1920 and 1930s for a prostitute.


Photo Prompt:

 Sinful Sunday #flashfiction week 43 prompt


Disclaimer: The author does not claim to have taken any of the photographs used as prompts. All imagery was found in the public domain via Tumblr.

Get those steamy thoughts going! You have until midnight EST to get your flash fiction in!


  1. Krystel H. says:

    Jazz music filtered through the air, and the smell of cigarettes and cigars overtook my senses as I entered through those two large wooden doors that I had watched a few men enter before me.

    I sidled up to the bar, order my drink of choice as my eyes canvas the room, noticing many Ragtime girls huddled in a corner, enticing young men. Dressed in corsets, stockings, or barely anything at all.

    And then I saw her. She was sitting in a chair off in the corner alone. Her finger beckoning to me to join her.

    I slowly walked over, forgetting my drink at the bar.

    Her fingers ran over the lace top of her corset, dipping into her cleavage. A spot that my tongue wouldn’t mind tasting.

    My eyes follow her hand as it moved further down her corset, running over the buttons on the front agonizingly slowly. My breath hitched as her fingers reached the top of her tiny underwear. Her fingers dip in, making one pass, her eyes close as she lets out a soft moan.

    I gave in, yanking her hand out, replacing it with my own as moans escape her once more.

    Word count:197
    Twitter handle: @myheroin1

  2. Ragtime girls. That’s the theme for tonight he tells me. His eyes savagely raking my body from black platform heels, up a pair of silk stockings and lace panties to a matching corset and strand of pearls tangled around my finger.

    He leaves his bourbon tumbler on a table and stalks over, grunting his approval and running the backside of his hand over my bare shoulder and down my back to the swell of my ass. His heated gaze follows and I feel the familiar pull of my belly and saturating heat form between my legs.

    I glide my hand down from my throat over the rise of my breast and the dip of my belly and slip my fingers under the thin silk covering my sex. He likes to watch and I oblige, dipping my fingers into my wet heat and circling, undulating my hips and moaning softly.

    His eyes go dark. His hand replaces mine and I buck against his exquisite touch, eager to ride his fingers to my release. His mouth drops to my neck, a low growl erupting from his throat before his teeth sink into my neck.

    I cry my release against his stubbled cheek.

    200 words

  3. Tinsley Warren says:

    I walked into the seedy club, the air full of smoke and the smell of sex. I felt the same shiver of anticipation I always got when I walk into this place.

    I knew in the back corner I would find my girl, my little ragtime girl, with her shiny blond air and luscious curves. She would be putting on a show for everyone here, but she wouldn’t leave with them. I would make damn certain of that.

    The lights are dim, and I can see her in a skin tight corset. She throws me a wink as her hand travels toward my paradise. I just sit back and watch as she works her body into a frenzy, moving her fingers in just the right way to have her moans echo in the room.

    I’m hard from just watching her, but when I smell her arousal in the air I have to hold myself back. Her smell alone could have me on my knees, begging for a taste, and I’m not about to embarrass myself in public.

    Just when I can’t take it anymore, she looks at me, flushed as can be, and screams my name as she comes.

    Words: 199

  4. Charlie had finally accepted his cousin’s invitation to visit him in the city, and boy, was he sorry he hadn’t come sooner. But it didn’t matter, he was here now, in a back alley speakeasy club, drinking whiskey, a pretty girl settled in his lap.

    Her name was Evelyn, and she’d told him she was a Ragtime girl. “You’re a dancer?” he asked. She laughed, then leaned into him and whispered into his ear what she was—what she wanted to show him.

    Charlie was naivé but he wasn’t stupid. He followed Evelyn to a dingy room above the club. She locked the door, stripped down to her corset, then lay down on a mattress on the floor. Charlie watched, fascinated, as she slipped her hand between her legs. His cock hardened, and he ached to stick it in her.

    “Ever been with a girl like me, Charlie?”

    He blushed and shook his head. “Never been with any girl.”

    Evelyn didn’t bat an eye. “But you want to fuck me, don’t you?”

    Charlie swallowed hard and nodded.

    “Well then, what are you waiting for?” she asked, beckoning him.

    “Welcome to New York,” she said as he pushed deep inside her.

    200 words

  5. “If want to sit there and watch me diddle myself, it’s copasetic. But you know, I’m a ragtime girl, and I got bills like everybody else. It’ll cost you a fin, same as nookie.”

    The quiet man nods his head, twirling his fedora in his hands, trying to hide his horny stick.

    I sit on the table next to him, swiveling his chair so he’s eyelevel with the Promised Land.

    He’s bluenose, for sure. Uppity on the outside, dirty little pervert inside. They like to be teased so they can hold on to their morals by not touching.

    I drag my fingers from shoulder to shoulder, opening the silky robe wider. The backs of my fingers follow the slope of my breast, arching as I squeeze my nipple, barely hidden by my open peignoir. He adjusts himself.

    I use my foot to nudge his grip from the arm of the chair and rest it there while I trace imaginary shapes on the triangle above my center.

    His eyes widen as I spread myself more.

    He squirms when I dip into my knickers.

    The wet sounds from my plunging fingers is all it takes for him to bolt for the door.

    200 words

  6. @QuinnSkylark
    Words: 199

    This is the business. I don the lacey clothes, make sure I’m the real dish, and I show the button men and the beaus and the dope peddlers a good time.

    I’m a dame of the night, and I’m damn good.

    But this fella is a little different tonight. He likes to watch. “How much do you usually charge?” he asks.

    “To watch me finger myself?” I wonder if that’s really all he wants to do.

    He nods his head. No man wants to sit there and pay me to pleasure myself. But I know that look in his eyes; he’s getting dizzy. Don’t these macs know anything? You never fall head over heels for a ragtime girl. Even though this one’s been carrying a torch for me since we were kids.

    “I don’t usually go chasing skirts, Bella,” the wonder boy says when I don’t answer his question.

    I look up at him as I push my fingers deeper. “No?” I ask. He shakes his head as he palms his hard erection. “Fine. Two bits.”

    “Twenty-five cents?” he asks in surprise.

    “Dollars.” I smirk.

    “I’ll give you a grand if I taste those fingers when you’re done.”

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