Clubbed

Trifecta: Week Eighty-Two

Feeling kind of like my character, it's scary to write again after being away from it, even though it really hasn't been that long.  I feel like I'm starting over.  
Silly me....on to the prompt.

CLUB
1a : a heavy usually tapering staff especially of wood wielded as a weapon
 b : a stick or bat used to hit a ball in any of various games
 c : something resembling a club
2a : a playing card marked with a stylized figure of a black clover
  b : plural but sing or plural in constr : the suit comprising cards marked with clubs
3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic <nations in the nuclear club>  

  b : the meeting place of a club <lunch at the club>  

  c : an association of persons participating in a plan by which they agree to make regular payments or purchases in order to secure some advantage  

  d : nightclub  

  e : an athletic association or team
4: club sandwich

- See more at: http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/#sthash.LeJb4aOb.dpuf

Jesse had been trying for months to wrangle an invitation to join the local writing club.  She had a folder full of half finished sci-fi novels and short stories featuring fearless women in dangerously alien situations.  

The heroines were always witty, impeccably attired, and braver than their male counterparts.  Except for the witty, well dressed, broad shouldered males that were instantly enamored of the gleaming tresses and seemingly magical shooting skills of Jesse's creations.

An hour into her first meeting, and she wanted to find a closet to hide in.  Preferably with a book of matches handy to burn the pages she'd been so proud of sixty minutes earlier.

The members oohed and aahed, describing their peers' work with words she'd need a dictionary to understand.  The largest word she could come up with to describe her own stories at that moment was abomination.

Jesse mentally rehashed the bit she'd chosen to "wow" her new acquaintances.  Her dream of accolades began to crumble into a nightmare of snide snickers.

She was startled out of her gloom by the sound of her name.

"Jesse!  What did you bring for us tonight?" The evening's hostess, Brenda, asked.

"I... I don't think I'm ready..."

"Oh phooey! Don't be shy, we don't bite."

The woman next to her grabbed her folder and pulled out a page. "She is shy, Brenda, like I was.  I'll start for you, Jesse, then you take over."

Jesse sat rigid with fear as her neighbor began to read.

"Tess Parker held her weapon as though it was an extension of her arm.  Her target, a six-foot worm with legs and teeth swayed aggressively only a few yards in front of her.  She could see the unconscious form of Captain Kirk Bronson lying behind it.  Blood oozing from an ugly gash in his forehead..."

"You write science fiction, Jesse?" 

"Uhh."

"Where do get ideas?"

"Umm."

"Lindsey, keep reading!  I hope Tess blasts that worm into oblivion!"

"I hope that captain is hot!"