Fire Down Below Quotes & Sayings

Dove sat between his legs for a few more seconds, trying to come up with any feasible reason she could stay there.
I want to sniff his balls. Just once. — Debra Anastasia

The day had begun sombrely in grey cloud and mist, but had ended in a pomp of scarlet and gold. Over the western hills beyond the harbour were amber deeps and crystalline shadows, with the fire of sunset below. The north was a mackerel sky of little, fiery golden clouds. The red light flamed on the white sails of a vessel gliding down the channel, bound to a Southern port in a land of palms. Beyond her, it smote upon and incarnadined the shining, white, grassless faces of the sand-dunes. — L.M. Montgomery

I just want to make sure he's a good fit for her. She has problems - craps her pants, stuff like that. If she needs help, I want to be there. — Debra Anastasia

He shrugged and laughed a little. "It was a stupid idea. Who takes a girl to a funeral as their first date?"
Dove fought through her gown so she could find his hand and hold it. She wanted to lick it, too, but restrained herself. "You do. It would be my honor to go to this old fart's funeral with you. Except pretend I said that like a person with a heart. — Debra Anastasia

It couldn't be good to want something this bad. Want someone this bad. I'm just me. Oh God. I'm me, and he's him. — Debra Anastasia

The man whirled, his hands still gripping the animal's skin, his face perfectly illuminated by the fire. He was half in shadow, and the shadow revealed him slowly. His left eye was covered by a black leather patch, and thin white scar raked his brow and the cheekbone below. The carried on, down the length of his neck, into the thick black beard, twisting under his collarbone and around his torso. They marred only the skin, I noted, for the muscles beneath were whole and strong, and the entire impression was one of great vitality and energy, strength unbridled. He looked nothing so much as a fallen god working at a trade.
"Hephaestus at the forge," I murmured, recalling my mythology ... — Deanna Raybourn

Dove ripped her panties off her body like the Hulk and threw them in the corner. — Debra Anastasia

Duke was already sitting in the passenger seat, waiting for her. She got in and started the car. Duke busted into a Slim Jim of his own.
"You hairy toad fucker. That stuff's nasty. Your toilet must be like a nuclear reactor." Dove turned on her windshield wipers as a light mist seemed to fracture the glass.
"I'm sorry, Whore Basket. I couldn't hear you over the noise of you crapping your pants!" Duke took another huge bite and chewed the waxy meat like gum.
"This stuff is off the charts. I could eat vats of it. — Debra Anastasia

Metal is from the earth, he thought as he scrutinized. From below: from that realm which is the lowest, the most dense. Land of trolls and caves, dank, always dark. Yin world, in its most melancholy aspect. World of corpses, decay and collapse. Of feces. All that has died, slipping and disintegrating back down layer by layer. The daemonic world of the immutable; the time-that-was.
And yet, in the sunlight, the silver triangle glittered. It reflected light. Fire, Mr. Tagomi thought. Not dank or dark object at all. Not heavy, weary, but pulsing with life. The high realm, aspect of yang: empyrean, ethereal. As befits work of art. Yes, that is artist's job: takes mineral rock from dark silent earth transforms it into shining light-reflecting form from sky.
Has brought the dead to life. Corpse turned to fiery display; the past had yielded to the future. — Philip K. Dick

How can I ever make you understand Cassie and me? I would have to take you there, walk you down every path of our secret shared geography. The truism says it's against all odds for a straight man and woman to be real friends, platonic friends; we rolled thirteen, threw down five aces and ran away giggling. She was the summertime cousin out of storybooks, the one you taught to swim at some midge-humming lake and pestered with tadpoles down her swimsuit, with whom you practiced first kisses on a heather hillside and laughed about it years later over a clandestine joint in your granny's cluttered attic. She painted my fingernails gold and dared me to leave them that way for work ... We climbed out her window and down the fire escape and lay on the roof of the extension below, drinking improvised cocktails and singing Tom Waits and watching the stars spin dizzily around us.
No. — Tana French

She could feel her pussy lips starting to swell like she had overdosed on lip plumper. Like she had fucked a gang of angry bees. — Debra Anastasia

Get me your manager." Dove held her head high and tried to seem older and more self-assured.
The teenager barely registered her request.
"Do it now. My friend here is about to crap his pants. Do you want to smell it?" Dove slapped her hands down on the counter, snapping the life into the girl. "Do you want to smell his shit? — Debra Anastasia

Dove hated that he knew way too much about her now. He knew she had a big girl boner for Johnson, he knew she'd tried to remove her crotch hair and had crapped her pants. It was Shameful with a capital Shit. — Debra Anastasia

To A Friend Whose Work Has Come To Triumph
Consider Icarus, pasting those sticky wintgs on,
testing that strange little tug at his shoulder blade,
and think of that first flawless moment over the lawn
of the labyrinth. Think of the difference it made!
There below are the trees, as awkward as camels;
and here are the shocked starlings pumping past
and think of innocent Icarus who is doing quite well:
larger than a sail, over the fog and the blast
of the plushy ocean, he goes. Admire his wings!
Feel the fire at his neck and see how casually
he glances up and is caught, wondrously tunneling
into that hot eye. Who cares that feel back to the sea?
See him acclaiming the sun and come plunging down
while his sensible daddy goes straight into town. — Anne Sexton

She wrangled her tits into the bustier cups. It was like trying to pipe Jello into an ant's anus, but eventually she was cinched tight. Dove tried the rollers again. No luck. They weren't coming out, and it made her a little sick to her stomach thinking about what it would take to remove them. — Debra Anastasia

Dove found Flower waiting outside her apartment. Flower was staring at her Doc Martins and in a very slow-motion move; she looked up at Dove.
"Jesus!" Flower's eyes were wide and her mouth stayed open.
Dove wanted to ask, "Bad Jesus or good Jesus?", but Flower had already used almost half her allotted words on Dove's predicament. She felt guilty asking for more. — Debra Anastasia

So, are you moving in? Dove tried to look like she was casually leaning against a lamppost. But there was no lamppost, so it looked more like she had injured her back or one of her legs was shorter than the other. — Debra Anastasia

You're rocking the full monty? A fur bikini? A wheezing wildebeest? Well, I'll be your fucking Hairy Plotter. Hold up." Duke waddled around in his homemade nonsense and returned quickly with a tube of what looked like lotion. "This here? I used it on my face. Seven minutes and I was slippery like a nipple in oil. — Debra Anastasia

Ruric clung to me and shouted, "Your father." Looking down below I saw my father running after us, several alarmed guards trailing him. As I watched, the High Lord's slight demon shape began to shimmer in a remarkable transformation that stretched him out and out and up into a huge and long, black serpentine dragon. It was a glorious sight, one I'd never thought to see. He launched himself gracefully into the air amidst shouted protests from his guards, a large dragon smile on his face that showed more free and delighted emotion than I'd ever seen on his face.
... "His poor guards. An eight-member team set out at a dead run after us. They must be having a hissy fit over my father taking off like that, alone, unguarded. Although I couldn't imagine what could possibly be of threat to a four-ton, fire-breathing dragon. — Sunny

Your meat curtains smell like a dirty, dead whore that fucked a dirty, dead gorilla. — Debra Anastasia

Johnson seemed to have a playbook memorized. He mumbled things like, "Pleasure, apply pressure, female gratification." And bent her legs to accomplish some pretty spectacular sexual Twister poses. One in particular had Dove ratcheted up like a street dancer with twenty years' experience. — Debra Anastasia

She knew it was crazy. That was a given. She had a balloon-sized head covered by a scarf while rocking a uniboob. Her cat was orbiting her, while hissing, at top speed.
It just figures at this point. There's a rain cloud fucking me up the ass. Don't panic, she told herself.
Her brain ran around, scraping at her skull and trying to get out of the horror instead.
Be someone else!
The two men stood, stunned stupid by her elaborate costume. Both jumped when
Dove opened her mouth to speak.
"I'm Lotsa Vampersex!" She'd increased her volume and cranked up the pitch of her voice in an effort to disguise herself.
Duke recovered first. "Hey, are you, like, hosting Voldemort's half-dead body or are you just into freakier stuff than I thought? — Debra Anastasia

The intruder took a step forward, and Moody's voice asked, "Severus Snape?" Then the dust figure rose from the end of the hall and rushed him, raising its dead hand.
"It was not I who killed you, Albus," said a quiet voice.
The jinx broke: The dust-figure exploded again, and it was impossible to make out the newcomer through the dense gray cloud it left behind.
Harry pointed his wand into the middle of it.
"Don't move!"
He had forgotten the portrait of Mrs. Black: At the sound of his yell, the curtains hiding her flew open and she began to scream, "Mudbloods and filth dishonoring my house--"
Ron and Hermione came crashing down the stairs behind Harry, wants pointing, like his, at the unknown man now standing with his arms raised in the hall below.
"Hold your fire, it's me, Remus!"
"Oh, thank goodness," said Hermione weakly, pointing her wand at Mrs. Black instead; with a bang, the curtains swished shut again and silence fell. — J.K. Rowling

Here's the deal. We go in, you stand there like the asshole you are, and I explain you aren't gay lovers with the pharmacist. Sound good?" Dove clicked her blinker on and checked her side mirror.
"All I heard was blah, blah, holding your dick later, blah, blah." Duke rolled down his window and stuck his face into the night. — Debra Anastasia

Finally, he backs off and looks at me, smiling. "First time you've been kissed by a man, Puss? A real man?"
I come back to my senses and says, breathlessly, "Put out the fire, Jared."
"If you mean the fire down below, Jacky, that will never go out ... ," he says, coming for me again.
"The fire on the desk, you fool! — L.A. Meyer

Hey, pharmacist here. Bodily fluids don't scare me. Neither do yeast infections or wild hair-remover rashes. He moved her hand and leaned down to give her a long hug.
He's hugging me.
Me. — Debra Anastasia

That's sweet. Nice of you." Johnson put his hands in his pockets. Dove couldn't help but wonder if he was massaging a sore bag of testicles. Dove looked around, and Johnson shuffled his feet. It seemed neither knew what to say, but she hoped neither wanted to part ways either.
Johnson's default was always medical.
"How's your infection?"
Die. Die. Kill me.
"It's ... cleared up ... nicely." Dove twisted her hand into her hair. — Debra Anastasia

Are you leaving the rollers in on purpose? He was concerned again.
Dove bit her lip. Her womb wanted to hump his face. — Debra Anastasia

Dove held out a hand to Johnson, and he took it - not because they were fleeing a fire and not because she was holding a million dollars. He took her hand to wrap his fingers around hers.
His long, long fingers.
Her knees went a little watery. Johnson placed a hand on her lower back to steady her. Her ass went a little watery. The trip up her stairs took longer than Ulysses on his epic journey. Johnson took the keys from her hand and opened her door. — Debra Anastasia

Thank fucking God. Christ, sorry about praying with "fucking." Shit! Sorry about saying "Christ!" Shut up, Dove. God hates you. — Debra Anastasia

Randall looks at me with fire in his eye, but he nods and decides to smile at my banter. He gets to his feet, bows low, and says, "I believe I saw my sister's fat friend Pickering down below. Shall we all go to dinner and hear more tales of your adventures?"
Hey, Ezra ain't fat, he's ... well ... sleek is what he is. Sleek, like a well-fed seal. Or, hey, maybe even a silkie ... — L.A. Meyer

Dove still couldn't trust herself to speak without blubbering. But she could kiss. Not Lotsa, not a dressed-up weirdo. Just Dove. She pulled her hand from its sweet prison and touched his face. She leaned in to kiss him, and instead of worrying about which way her nose was pointing, if her armpits were sweating, or if there was a funky taste in her mouth left over from dinner, she thought about lips and touch and kissing. When Johnson moaned, Dove felt so powerful she could have head-butted a dinosaur to death. — Debra Anastasia

One of Duke's very strict rules was to take his dick out any time a woman demanded it of him. He reached deep and put his favorite friend carefully on the fake wood.
She turned and cringed. "Jesus, dicks are so fucking ugly. Why you think putting your grandmother's jewelry on it will make it more fetching is beyond me."
Duke covered his dick's ears and snarled back at Dove, "You'll hurt his feelings. — Debra Anastasia

In my mind's eye I can still see the first night flight I made in Argentina. It was pitch-dark. Yet in the black void, I could see the lights of man shining down below on the plains, like faintly luminous earthbound stars. Each star was a beacon signaling the presence of a human mind. Here a man was meditating on human happiness, perhaps, or on justice or peace. Lost among this flock of stars was the star of some solitary shepherd. There, perhaps, a man was in communication with the heavens, as he labored over his calculations of the nebula of Andromeda. And there, a pair of lovers. These fires were burning all over the countryside, and each of them, aven the most humble, had to be fed. The fire of the poet, of the teacher, of the carpenter. But among all these living fires, how many closed windows there were, how many dead stars, fires that gave off no light for lack of nourishment. — Antoine De Saint-Exupery

Holy tit fungus! Did you give Sasquatch an autopsy in here? God almighty, girl." He waddled back into the hallway, this time holding his privates with both hands. "You balded the dick mitten. Nice. Let me see it."
He looked at her like she might drop trou simply because he suggested it.
"I would rather lick a monkey's armpit than show you my vagina." Dove gave him the finger.
"You know what I love best about a naked muff hole? It looks just like a camel's dangly lips." Duke extended his own lips to make them appear gummy and slack. — Debra Anastasia

No, I was just thinking how much I like hearing you talk about numbers. It's soothing. Dove was tempted to lean her head back in a friendly way and clamp on his cock like a toothless, sucking pit bull. — Debra Anastasia

Dove had next to no coping mechanisms when it came to social interactions gone awry. When all else failed - the running, the hiding, the dying - all that was left was the giggling.
The moment she thought about trying not to laugh, it became one hundred times worse. — Debra Anastasia

PATER PROFUNDUS. [Far below] The chasm at my feet, dark, yawning, Rests on a chasm deeper still, A thousand streams, their waters joining, In a cascade terrific fall; The tree's own life, its strength from nature, Its trunk lifts skywards straight and tall - All, all, show love's almighty power That shapes all things, cares for them all. The storm breaks round me, fiercely howling, The woods, ravines, all seem to quake, 12240 And yet, swelled by the deluge falling, The torrent plunges down the rock To water lovingly the valley; The lightning burns the overcast And clears the air, now smelling freshly, Of all its foulness, dankness, mist - All love proclaim! the creating power By which the whole world is embraced. Oh kindle, too, in me your fire, Whose thoughts, disordered, cold, depressed, 12250 Inside the cage of dull sense languish, Tormented, helpless, hard beset! Dear God, relieve my spirit's anguish, My needy heart illuminate! — Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

Dove's heart broke. He'd been so hopeful until cock rings and butt fucking ruined his career. — Debra Anastasia

I don't think one stalker is allowed to call another stalker a stalker. — Debra Anastasia

He apologized profusely. "I knew that frog position was too freaky. I'm sorry."
"It's not that, Johnson. Did you notice that like every third thrust I was like a virgin? That was my asshole." Dove put a hand on his shoulder. — Debra Anastasia

Kisses that danced with smiles tasted amazing. — Debra Anastasia

With only one thing in common, they got the fire down below. — Bob Seger

Do you repel pants? Do they actually jump off you?" Dove cringed as she noticed his black socks.
"Pants are afraid of my dick. — Debra Anastasia

Your nipples are like Novocain."
"You're at a distinct advantage because I have no idea what controlled substance your nipples are like." He ran his tongue across his top teeth. — Debra Anastasia