Friday Fictioneers – Dangerous Liaison

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

PHOTO PROMPT © C E Ayr

Dangerous liaison

Alone on the beach, I stand silent. The winter sun dapples land and sea, confusing the eye.

I need to plan. What can I do? Where can I go?

I finish my cigarette with three long drags, but the nicotine hit brings no inspiration.

It was my own stupid fault.

Poor Dolores. Beautiful. Seductive. I couldn’t resist her. Giovanni had beaten the truth out of her, then killed her.

Perhaps if I go to London? By train, of course.

I turn towards the steps. It’s my only hope.

There’s a flash from the sand dunes. The sun on binoculars? or…

Inlinkz – click here to join the fun!

Friday Fictioneers – Bum Deal

Every week, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (thank you, Rochelle!) hosts a flash fiction challenge, to write a complete story, based on a photoprompt, with a beginning, middle and end, in 100 words or less. Post it on your blog, and include the Photoprompt and Inlinkz on your page. Link your story URL. Then the fun starts as you read other peoples’ stories and comment on them!

FF - Bum Deal 200108

PHOTO PROMPT © C E Ayr

Bum deal

The streetlights were yellowed by the onrushing dawn as Tony, groundsman of the Paradiso Marina, parked his scooter in its designated parking bay. He doffed his helmet and strolled to the big campervan. He yawned. It had been a busy night, both profitable, if not strictly legal, and pleasurable, if not strictly monogamous.

Why was the campervan here, by the Sopranos’ mooring? He would have to move them on before nine o’ clock.

He hammered on the door, then noticed the hissing and the smell of gas.

“Shit!”

The explosion of the campervan was heard all over the town.

Inlinkz – click here to join in

Infidelity – 300 word version

Infidelity

It was dark in the wings. I should have been in the Green Room but I wanted to watch the performance.

A strong arm slipped around my waist. It felt so right that I couldn’t help myself. I turned towards Frank, tilting my face up to his. He kissed me. I yielded, as I would have done for Jim, and then thought, ‘No, I don’t need to pretend…’ and kissed back enthusiastically.

How long is eternity? Two seconds? Three seconds? That is how long the kiss lasted, but it brought its own sort of eternity.

And then it was over.

Frank stepped back.

“Liz, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I’m so sorry. You’re a married woman.” Even in my swirling Arcadian haze of arousal I noticed that he didn’t say that he was a married man.

“Don’t be sorry, Frank. Don’t be sorry”. My right hand stroked his chest feverishly. The quartet on stage was reaching its climax.

“Oh, Liz, you are just so…Liz, I love you’.

Why did Jim never speak to me like that? Why did he never kiss me like that?

I felt guilty that night as I went to bed. Jim didn’t seem to notice anything. He kissed me goodnight, rolled over, and was snoring gently within a minute. Normally I liked Jim’s snores. They weren’t loud, they just rumbled gently and reminded me that my man lay beside me; a comfortable knowledge of security. That night, though, they grated.

‘Liz, I love you’. The joy of that knowledge! And its guilt. Lying there beside my sleeping husband thinking of another man’s love.

And then, knowingly and deliberately, I imagined Frank’s embrace, the look of bewildered joy on his face, his tender words. I allowed the joy to seep through me. I went to sleep.

 

What Pegman Saw – Tropical Paradise

“What Pegman saw” is a weekly challenge based on Google Streetview. You can read the rules here. You can find today’s location on this page,  from where you can also get the Inlinkz code. This week’s location is the British Virgin Islands, noted for sailing, watersports, luxury hotels and tax dodging.

WPS - Tropical Paradise 190209

Tropical Paradise

“Oh, stop pestering me! You know I hate tours. You go on your cruise and I’ll stay here and sunbathe.”

“And drink,” thought Roland, sourly. He gave Denise a peck on the cheek. “Okay. See you Thursday.” By the time he reached the quayside he was whistling cheerfully.

A dip in the pool. A gin. Lunch on the terrace followed by a pampering session in the spa. As Denise dressed for dinner, she felt toned and attractive. “Not bad for forty,” she commented, sidelong, to the mirror.

As Denise ordered a martini she smiled at Leo, immaculate in linen suit and lilac tie, who was sitting alone at the bar.

“Roland went on the tour then?” he asked.

“Oh, yes, And Helen?”

Leo nodded.

“Would you join me for dinner?” he suggested.

Meanwhile, Helen and Roland, close and intimate in a single berth, didn’t spare their spouses a second thought.