Victor Dandridge's Page

It's Anne's Pizza at her place on Friday nites, with sleep induced by some spacebound adventure for the thousandth time: Armageddon, Independence Day or Apollo 13. Sitting Indian-style (is that even appropriate anymore), while she tied yarn out of the kinky knots of hair that I wore back then. Gummi worms, and by the pound, for movie premiere weekends...and sometimes because we've already paid the rent. The rides to and from work, where we pondered the ways of the world, typically with a kiss an… Continue

"Be like the sun," I told my children, on that autumn day after their mother died. With curious eyes, they glared back at me, beckoning for understanding. "See the sun is a star, and its the only star in our solar system and though it sits in space alone, it freely shares its light and heat with the worlds around it, never asking for thanks or retribution." I thought my words were clever in their inspiration and condolence, when my oldest son, only 5 retorted: "Daddy...the sun can't be a star; t… Continue

Its raining. Heavy clouds of fleshy lips pat the length of my neck and throat. A thunderstorm of eager fingers search my clothed body for access to naked skin. Outside, its raining...but inside, I make love to my weather witch. Her sapphire blue eyes, like the rising tide, overtake me; desire belting out with the crashing wave. I used to fear storms, but this one tastes too good to hide from.

John, not the name of his birth, but the handle of his vice, watches intently as she re-applies Candy Apple Red #2 to her puckered lips. Willfully, she props her feet against the desk, sharing a reflected view with her man of the hour, from under her sundress, all swollen and engorged, still wet from their service. His love of her lingers in the beads of sweat on his bare chest and will carry still when she departs back for the strip. He'll wear it proudly. She will carry his love within her, so… Continue