Sledgehammer Writing Contest

Laurel Roger’s February Mini Sledge winning story is a wonderful, detail-laden scene. Congrats on the win, Laurel!

Prompts:

Character: Politician

Action: Sitting in a rocket, waiting for liftoff

Setting: Underwater

Phrase: “I still left early.”

Rocket Powered
by Laurel Rogers

Her over-processed blonde hair reflected the brassy Florida sun with a glint that made the admiring men around her glad they had donned their Vuarnets and Ray-Bans. Cloaked in dark glass, their eyes tracked her breasts as they bounced gently with every stride of her long, tan legs.

Blonde or not, she wasn’t stupid enough to be unaware of their stares, but today she was too busy to bother with her usual sly tip of her head and knowing smile of her hot-pink lips. Today, she was on a mission–just like the men who would be sitting and waiting for liftoff in the rocket that rose in full phallic spectacle from the sandbar they called a cape. The boys and their stares would have to wait, even if she was more than a little pleased that her bra size was still larger than her age, even if the two were getting dangerously close the same.

Determined, she yanked hard on the handle and the heavy glass doors opened with a swish of cool air. She shivered from the contrast of temperature inside and out. Or was it from the thoughts in her head?

Her heels clicked across the terrazzo floor until the security guard and a velvet rope halted her progress.

“Badge?” the guard asked.

“Don’t you know who I am?”

Just to be sure, the guard looked her over, head to toe with a brief stop at her chest. For security purposes, of course. “Nope, sure don’t,” he replied finally. “Step to the desk.”

She went where he waved, and what seemed like a perky 12-year-old greeted her with too much familiarity. “Welcome to NASA. Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t need an appointment. I’m Mrs. Lefterly.”

The receptionist started to reply her usual “appointments are required for everyone…” but wisely stopped herself as her memory kicked in. “Ohhhh. Lefterly. Lefterly? THE Lefterly?”

Estelle Lefterly just stared at the poor girl as she struggled to collect herself. When the girl finally gave up speaking, Estelle replied quietly, “As I said, I don’t need an appointment.”

“Y-y-y-yes, yes, of course, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Lefterly.” The girl tried to hand Estelle a visitor badge, but Estelle had already started clicking her way across the lobby to the executive elevators.

“George, I know we’re already underwater on this mission. But we can’t just….” The elevator doors only had to open an inch for him to see who was inside, and he knew what he had to say had no more value.

George turned around to see what had so derailed Bob’s thought. His eyes widened, and his body tensed. As the elevator doors finished opening, George inhaled and willed his body to relax as he lifted his most practiced Southern smile to his face and flashed his too-large teeth too-largely toward the once-bombshell. “Estelle! Sweetheart! It’s been too long!” He took the manicured hand she presented coldly and tried to warm it with a brief kiss.

“George, you’re sweet as always, but you know why I’m here, and it’s not to listen to you blow sunshine up my…skirt,” Estelle replied. Then she turned slightly to Bob. “And who’s this?”

“Ah, right,” George answered. “This is Bob. He’s the chief engineer of…”

Estelle cut him off. “You know I have no interest in that engine stuff.” She waved her hand at the meaninglessness of Bob’s position while emphasizing the importance of the hefty diamonds clustered on her fourth finger.

Bob squirmed and turned away toward some suits over by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Unable to flee with grace, George had no choice but to see to Mrs. Lefterly. “Well, Estelle, how about we just step over to my office and have ourselves a little chat.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,” she replied with a saccharine smile. “There’s just one thing I want, and that’s my boy up there on your big rocket tomorrow when it lifts off.”

George feigned an understanding chuckle. “Well, Estelle, darling. Oh, you know I’d like nothing more than that, but Johnny is still in rotation for next time. Of course if we need him as a sub for this mission, he’s first in line for that. But this isn’t his turn.”

Estelle looked hard in George’s eyes, then scanned the room. She nodded her head to a few of the suits and shot a knowing smile at a couple more. The room grew quieter as some of the most powerful politicians from Washington and their wannabe counterparts in NASA shifted uneasily from foot to foot.

She knew George was watching. She knew he knew the power she actually had. She knew he knew she held the same sway over him. So she just let him think about that for a moment, before she leaned in close, her pink lips almost touching the soft peach fuzz of his earlobe, and whispered. “My boy, on that rocket. Tomorrow, George.”

Then she pulled back and smiled warmly at him. “You look a little pale, George. You need to come out to the beach house sometime soon.” With that she waved and turned back to the elevator. As she climbed in and the doors began to shut, she overheard Bob begin his thoughts again.

“George, seriously, the launch is tomorrow, and this is about safety….”

© 2020 Laurel Rogers

Laurel Rogers was surprised to win her third Sledgehammer this month. When she’s not playing with fiction, Laurel is busy providing content strategy, writing and editing to a variety of clients throughout the West Coast. Her blog and podcast are underdevelopment at theclockstruckmidlife.com.

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