Dangerous Liaisons – a call to arms!

Three girls, a Hasselblad and a Dresden Hinterhof is all you need…

This is my gender-bending pictorial take on the delicious Les Liaisons Dangereuses.

I hope it inspires you to add your own flash fiction/images/songs/videos or autobiographical tales of seduction, revenge, love and betrayal in the comments section or by pasting a link to your story!

98 thoughts on “Dangerous Liaisons – a call to arms!

  1. My first time ever writing – and contribution …Ashamed beyond words. But Since people are adding nice stories and you are so kind to them in your comments, I guess you will not hack me to pieces….I have created a wordpress profile and would not be surprise if I messed it up and nothing appears when clicking down…Me, being the IT genious I am…
    Anyway, this is just a way to say Thanks for the nice communication throughout Instagram.
    And please, add any Complains (should be “comment”, I know, but I am being realistic) of my bad writing here in your space… I am not going back to that wordpress page of mine never again!…
    Thanks again and I pray no Writer, English translator or English teacher finds ever this link…

    The one page “Story” is called “Cling”… Oh well…



    1. Peter, what a beautiful existential and heart-rending story! I would advice the hero not to settle for the nagging defeating voice and instead listen to the voice of love from inside, the best guide there is 🙂
      This call has brought so many wonderful stories out into the open and this makes me very happy indeed.
      muchas gracias amigo,


      1. De nada! No wonder you are happy. The fact that people are contributing with their stories speaks millions! So you should take all the credit. Glad you liked the story…can’t believe I dared to write something… Upps… I created the wordpress because the text was too long for a comment. So, no chances I will do more…”probably I will delete it…” Oh…that bloody nagging deffeating voice again!
        Anyway, thanks again!

        Liked by 2 people

  2. gender-bender and non-fictional … a true story. and a hilarious one at that!

    during my first year in london (actually in my first couple of weeks after moving there…) i went to a concert of a (at that time) rather obscure french singer called (philippe) katerine, which happened to be at madame jojos. thinking it was a normal concert venue, i was surprised to be seated at a round cocktail table. alright, it is a cocktail/jazz bar then … with a plush red velvet curtain. the waitress came and took my order and i was suprised how tall all the waitresses were, so much taller than me. and those huge hands when my drink was served! it took me two hours to realise that all those immaculately styled tall waitresses were men in drag. country bumpkin that i was at that time, it really did not cross my mind!!!
    the concert was fabulous and even nowadays i laugh about myself being such a ‘parsifal’ (after all wagner calls him an innocent sap!) back then.

    ok, there was no seduction nor revenge here – but the gender-bending from the original post … and that counts for something as well, right? 🙂

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Dear Drori, I laughed and loved that story! And Madame JoJo’s – what a legendary place! Just imagining you sitting there thinking, I just entered the land of beautiful tall girls with big hands… It’s good to be Parsifal 🙂
      thank you for sharing this memory.
      Wünsch dir einen genüsslichen Sonntag,

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you for giving us a taste of what 1968 revolutionary Paris was like. You’ve lived exciting times in exciting places… It’s a veritable call to arms and I hope we get more of the gender-bending liaisons in the next installment 🙂


      1. Thank you, especially for your comment on alienaid 🙂 One of the questions I was thinking about was “Can anybody really feel someone else’s fear/pain/joy… and what would that be like?”, but you uncovered another level of meaning, the different parts of oneself and the need to accept and embrace who we are, to face even our “dark parts”, however scary that might be.

      2. I thought your question was such a beautiful starting point and I loved the way you explored and ‘lived’ it in the story. If we would really allow ourselves to feel and to feel what others feel, there would be very little crime, rape, torture, murder and abuse in this world. So also in this sense, KERNFUSION is an important story.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. These nights
    These nights, in which the darkness swallowed the houses and the mist hung low between the ravines of them. The shadows inside herself came to life in those nights. She strolled calmly through the streets of this little place nearby the coast. It seemed, that the cracking and crackle on the wayside were whispering to her. The men and the women, who were out at this time, mostly came right out of the small pub in Bridge Street.
    Inebriated, they turned up their coat collars and hurried away. The drinks and the darkness obscured the views of those people. However, her view was utterly clear. Her eyes were like the eyes of a cat and she had trained for a while to appear and disappear unnoticed. It was a kind of art, like magic and she was really good at this. She was using this gift. In this night as well.
    With trained eyes for objects, which are reflecting the moonlit, she approached to them. This time it was a pearl-necklace, which was shining in contrast to the darkness. For her it was love at first glance. Her heart beats faster and there was a special kind of stimulation flowing through her body. The proprietress stood one step ahead – suddenly everything went fast. Monoeurvrable, skillfully and gentle the closure of the necklace was opened and it disappeared softly rustling in the coat pocket of the thief. Seconds later, the thief leaned on the house at the corner again. It looked like she was part of the facade. 10 minutes later she was fulfilled and smoking on her way home. Already on the way, she puts the pearl-necklace around her neck. How lovely it was- this sublimed and cool feeling of pearls.
    She will wear it tomorrow at work and, if her colleague, the police officer Ryan will ask for it, she will answer, like she did before. Like she answered for every single piece of jewelry: „It is from the last journey of my beau. The sailor, you know?“ And he will ask for details about this stranger. Details she will not tell. Merely the imagination of the situation triggers her stimulation anew; tingling, blissful shuddering.

    ok, i think i did it better in german:

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Reading this makes me think your English is better than mine 🙂 You have a great way of creating suspense and foreboding, I could feel the almost sensual pleasure she takes from stealing objects of desire and making them her own. A kleptomaniac is walking the streets of London, beware!

      Liked by 3 people

      1. thank you so much for the inspiration! In the text there are many words i had not known- but: there is google translation 🙂
        and yes, beware there is a kleptomanic walking by. (maybe mona lisa goes with her)

        Liked by 1 person

      2. yeah it’s really funny to translate whole sentences with google. but for a few words it works sometimes. (maybe mona will knock on my door this night – i hope so. But not with this kleptomaniac or i send her right home)


  4. The Parasol

    On a fine Spring morning two young lovers, Claudia and Hanna embraced in the squalid backstreets of post-war Dresden, away from prying eyes.

    As the early mists cleared and the day brightened, they took shelter from the bright sunshine beneath a parasol Claudia had purchased from Grete, the owner of Grete’s Parasol & Umbrella Emporium. It is a fine parasol, simple in design but of good construction.

    Claudia had an appointment at the hairdresser. She started to leave, taking her parasol.

    Hanna, was distraught.

    ‘How could you leave me like this, in the hot sun with no parasol. I will become wrinkled and ugly,’ she said, somewhat over-dramatically.

    Claudia, seeing that Hanna is apparently serious, tried to reason with her angry paramour, but failed. She walked away, with Hanna glaring angrily at her back.

    ‘I need a fucking parasol,’ Hanna yelled, startling a small dog, rooting through the trash-cans.

    Hanna’s behaviour had become very erratic since the loss of her favourite umbrella during the Winter. She was drinking too much and had developed a strange habit of talking to kitchen appliances.

    A desperate Hanna rushed round to the parasol store, but finding it closed, went to the home of Grete, the owner. She demanded to purchase a nice parasol, something in the mid-price range and not too fussy.

    Grete informed her that she had been forced to close the shop because of a terrible earthquake that had devastated the Bolivian Leper colony where her products were made. She had sold the last of the parasols to Claudia, at half price.

    Furious, Hanna choked the hapless woman to death in a moment of jealous insanity.

    Later she confessed her crime to Claudia, who looked lovely, fresh from the hair salon.

    Claudia is horrified and upset, and confessed she was having an affair with Grete, which is why she received such a big discount on the parasol.

    Hanna cannot believe her love could betray her so cruelly. Enraged, they fought and she strangled Claudia, then took the parasol before fleeing.

    With the police hot on her heels, a confused and heartbroken Hanna escaped the city as a stowaway on board a merchant ship bound for South America. Apart from the parasol, she had few possessions, and lived off a meagre diet of stale rye bread, raisins and seagulls.

    On reaching south America, she met a beautiful French nun and former trapeze artist called Veronique who was, by an incredible coincidence, helping the poor lepers caught up in the Bolivian earthquake. They fell madly in love and ran away together, then later joined a traveling circus in Peru, before eventually becoming disenchanted with the horrible exploitation of the animals and staff.

    After many more adventures, including a spell with the Shining Path Guerrilla group, and a year running a hat shop in Venezuela, they started an animal sanctuary in Ecuador, funded partly by the sale of their adventures in a bestselling book.

    Hanna never forgot the streets of Dresden and the crimes of her dark past. But she found peace through her work with the animals, as well as meditation, yoga and large quantities of brandy.

    Veronique never pried about the bad times in her lover’s earlier life. Some things are best left alone. She also avoided borrowing Hanna’s parasol. It seemed the wise thing to do as her beloved had one hell of a temper.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. This had me chuckle throughout. You just debunked my sincere take on Italian neorealism. I think there is enough material for an epic in this, will read it again just in case I missed something.
      Thank you Jason and here is to more (transatlantic) adventures!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You’re very welcome Dagma and thanks for a very interesting writing prompt that had me thinking and writing for much of the day. There is actually a much longer version of this!

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Ah yes, I remember that now… I once had a client that was a firm of solicitors. They changed their minds about having a website after we’d done all the work. I had to threaten them with the small claims court before they paid up!

        Liked by 1 person

  5. Dangerous Liaisons, maybe not. It’s what came out.
    Monsieur de Laclos clearly need not worry about competition.

    Schultzy & Kelly (a flash fiction)

    Schultzy shifted back and forth, nervously, his eyes darting about, occasionally falling on Kelly’s face as she sat transfixed.
    “He’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” she thought to herself.
    “Look,” Schultzy started, fidgeting and halting “although we’ve known each other only a short time, I’ve quickly become very fond of you. More than that even.”
    Kelly watched him, her head moving slowly side to side, as Schultzy paced the kitchen floor.
    “Me too.” she replied. “Dare I say I’m falling in love with you?”
    “But we’re worlds apart,” Schultzy quickly responded, “you’re way up there and I’m down here. There’s no way- no way they’ll let me climb up there. The caste system is pretty clear, and no one wants me up there.”
    “But that’s not stopping us.” Kelly answered, resolutely. “Just because you can’t climb up doesn’t mean I can’t climb down.”
    “But there are other obstacles, my age for instance. You’re so young and I’m so…”
    “I don’t see you as old. Your maturity is one of your most attractive features. Not all full of the nonsense and constant motion, the impulsive stupidity and recklessness of youngsters. I’m no spring chicken, you know. More of a grown hen I guess.”
    They laughed at this silly metaphor.
    After the laugh, as they quieted, their eyes met in that moment after, all smiles and sparkling.
    “I’ve had a good long run and you’re so young. Not only would you be stuck with an old timer and all my aches and pains, but how long would we have? Then what are you left with? Heartbreak.”
    “For someone who’s trying to say he loves me, you sure are painting in a lot of options for back-peddling.” she smiled as she admonished him. His head dropped a little, he stared at the floor.
    “I just don’t see any good future for you in this. I care too much for you to let things happen that would be bad for you, even if you don’t see them the same way.”
    “Whenever I’m with you, I can never imagine bad things. You’re right. I don’t see how anything could be bad about this because I’ll have you. Even if it’s for a year, a month, a day. Every moment is like sunshine and music. Not to mention, it’s not like you can stop it. It’s like a beautiful flower, it grows each day all by itself. And today…a bloom!”
    “Look kid,” Schultzy put on his best Humphrey Bogart, “there are places I need to go and things I need to do that you just can’t be part of.”
    “Well, I guess you’ll have to do the thinking for both of us.” Kelly said in her best Ingrid Bergman imitation voice.
    They sat a long time in the kitchen, by the pellet stove, enjoying the heat and light of the wood fire. They sat staring into the flames, speechless. Silently, they each contemplated the fate of their hearts.
    As the sunlight of the day faded into twilight, Schultzy stood and stretched, let out a sigh.
    “We’ll have to think of it as a someday thing.” he slowly summarized. “We can imagine that someday perhaps we can be together. Maybe in Heaven. Maybe in the next life.”
    “If that’s what you think is best…” Kelly’s thought trailed off as she stared out the window at the rising moon. “Still, we’ll be here together, and there’s no reason we can’t remain best of friends.”
    “Gosh, you’re the greatest. that’s just one more thing I admire about you, being able to see through something clearly, logically, sensibly.”
    With that, Kelly hopped down from the table, walked to Schultzy, and curled up beside him in front of the fire.
    “It was a crazy idea anyway, I guess.” she said, fussing with a tuft of his hair. “After all, you’re a dog and I’m a cat, and I guess the twain shall never meet.”
    “Thanks Kel.” Schultzy replied, “You’re the best.”


    Liked by 1 person

    1. A beautiful story and I didn’t see the twist coming at all, well done! Romeo and Juliet in the animal kingdom, shame the great barde can’t read your take on the doomed lovers. Plus I like their intelligent 21st century way of problem-solving 🙂
      thanks for getting your brain juices flowing, have a great week,


  6. Well, it’s been a while since I’ve done any English-language fiction (I used to write some when I was still living in Heidelberg since they had a community of English-language writers) or even true stories, but recently I’ve come accross Don’t Explain by Jewelle Gomez (written in 1987) again and for some reason or other it keeps me occupied because it resembles a part of my own story with someone in a certain way, and seeing you ‘prompting’ people like that I might just give it a try and tell that story. After such a long time a bit fictionalised perhaps, but 16 years is no short period of time. This is all a long way of saying I’m trying to give it a try 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

      1. It seems to me I should have kept my mouth shut because it does work, which is the good thing, but it’s unraveling, unraveling and unraveling again so once it’s gonna be finished it will be anything but flash fiction but lengthwise more of a novella and at this point I have no idea how to turn everything I remember into a fictionalised context. I didn’t know it would happen. However, it’s going to take time and a lot of it because as it is the person in question once ‘reappeared’ in a fiction story as a character and now once I’m at it I can’t stop sorting out which was which and what is actually important about that person and our story when I would turn it into fiction. But I sincerely want to thank you for getting me to write in English again. Back in Heidelberg I did it a lot, also in the job I had back then working at a school, later I tried it when I decided to give genre fiction a try but when that didn’t work out because genre fiction isn’t what I like I stopped. Actually a shame, as I see it now.

        Liked by 1 person

      2. I think that might be possible some time, though I admit that I find it hard to choose excerpts that actually ‘speak for’ a story, no matter in which language.

        I’ve got this scene though, it needs to be worked at as of yet, which to me seems quite impressive in so far that I think would I be a strange reader I’d have a clue about what was going on between people once I’d read it. But I’ve got no idea if it works for other people.

        We may see because right now that scene is the only part of all my notes that I feel I can transform into something comprehensible enough to stand on its own any time soon.

        Of course if I do sort of make to get through the thing I might ‘bug’ people with that overly loooong tale. 😉

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I will eventually attempt that. I have a hard time with the spelling , because I don’t proof read most of the time, even my comment to you was spelled wrong.

        Liked by 2 people

      2. Thanks, I just am overly critical, and I feel that I should be paying more attention at what I am doing. I don’t think my poor eyesight helps.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Sorry to hear about your poor eyesight, but that maybe enables you to see more with the heart and soul. And in my opinion, self-criticism can go to hell, that inner censor and chiding (parents) voice – I listen to it, then I say thank you very much and just keep on doing my things 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      4. You could be right about that. Blind people are supposed to be more attune to sound, and dark to sight, so I am somewhere in the middle. And yes, making these connections is a nice part of this experience. I know since I started this journey with words, I have come a ways and feel better for it. Meeting others and sharing views is great inspiration.

        Liked by 2 people

      1. I should have said tantalizing rather than evocative, as this is the story, no doubt, of Sappho and some clueless slattern–reputed to be her cousin–who, instantly and blindingly, take the umbrella industry by storm.

        Liked by 1 person

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