She has a look she gives me when she's thinking something other than what she's saying. I never knew if she realized that I could read her like that. And then we were naked, and she was saying something about ropes and handcuffs, despite my protests.
Totally at her mercy, and she's looking away, looking at something behind me. Big, naked, fully erect: has he been there all along? His eyes meet hers, and they're on the bed, ignoring my pleas.
But still, it's only one man. Perhaps I can stand that...
No. She's giving me that look again, and the door opens on another man, and she doesn't look sorry at all.
I had a few other ideas, more pleasant perhaps, but this was the one that won out. In such a short flash, it's hard to tell a story at once both tragical and comical, but I'd like to believe that our protagonist wasn't left completely in the cold, and that the betrayal was only skin deep. I don't happen to find the situation in which our hero finds him or herself terribly sexy, but that's just me. Hell, I may have to write another one just to salve my spirit a little.
Now, there's business to attend to. Go and Flash your own Fiction next Friday, or I'll continue to write depressing things with very little of the sexy quality about them. Maybe next week I'll write about an oil spill, or violence in Rwanda. You can't stop me. You can only crowd me out. Do so now.
3 comments:
Oooo you naughty little vixen. This leaves me curious to know what happens next. Good job.
Bisou,
Cate
That's the challenge, isn't it -- to get your overarching feeling or general atmosphere across in just a few short words. For the record, I think you did a fine job of getting the feeling across. Thanks for double-joining us this week!
-- PB
"... she doesn't look sorry at all"
Why would she? It sounds like she knows what you need. BTW, this doesn't exactly sound like a lament... *laughs*
Happy Saturday.
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