Somewhere in America
The Woman – Micro-fiction
The man sat up quickly. “Did you hear that?”
“Hmmm?” Said the woman laying in bed beside him. She had that beautiful just-woke-up-look which some women manage with perfectly tousled hair and dreamy sleep filled eyes.
“Downstairs; I thought I heard something.”
The woman smiled and blinked at the morning sunlight streaming in through the window above her head. “Mmm….” She lay back down, closing her eyes as she stretched, two full breasts appearing above the lip of the quilt.
“There it is again,” the man said nervously. Muffled sounds came from down stairs. “It must be my wife. Fuck, I thought she wouldn’t be back yet. I have to get you out of here.”
The woman opened her eyes again, laying one hand on his shoulder. “Get me out?” She asked blankly.
He stared at her like she was mad. “Yeah!”
“Oh… will she be upset?” She stretched out again.
“Well, yeah! Come on!”
“Mmmm….” She reached for her pants on the floor beside her, in no particular hurry. Pulling them up to her she reached in one pocket and then another, frowning.
“Come on! She could come up here any minute!”
Pushing her pouty little lips out she checked a third pocket, a smile blossoming across her face. She pulled out a pack of Kools and a lighter. Laying a cigarette between her lips so it hung in the air just right she used both hands to work the little lighter.
The man stared at her in disbelief as she inhaled, dropping the lighter on the quilt. Closing her eyes once more a look of absolute bliss passed over her face and she fell back on her pillow, her hands above her head, chest pressed comfortably into the air.
“My God, are you crazy?”
The slap was fast and hard. “Don’t call me crazy,” she said, her face suddenly millimeters from his own. He blinked saying nothing, too shocked to think straight.
“Mmm…” She put one hand on his face. “You’re cute,” she said, gently stroking the rough stubble there as she kissed his lips softly.
She pushed him down against the bed and pulled herself up, crossing her legs. Through the door footsteps were making their way up the stairs. The man was sweating. She smiled.
She took another drag and reached out over the side of the bed, the inside of her naked thigh extended across his face to balance herself. She plucked her purse from the ground, pulling it up to her as a woman opened the door.
She was a tall blonde with wavy hair and beautiful features. She wore business casual with a Louis Vuitton purse clutched in one hand and appeared to have been on the verge of saying something when her eyes fell on the naked woman sitting comfortably in her bed with a lit cigarette pressed deep between her middle and index fingers. The woman was smiling at her with a ‘well, hi, and what’s your name?’ Look on her face. The purse dropped from her hands, landing silently on the thick shag carpet.
“Hi, what’s your name?” The woman in bed asked.
“I’m his w-wife, S-Susan,” the woman began, her voice choked with sudden tears.
“Oh good!” Cried the woman in bed, daintily clapping her hands together. Cigarette in hand she pulled a gun from her purse. With one eye closed and her tongue between her lips she took aim and fired. The man’s wife dropped to the ground.
Carefully blowing on the gun she put it back in her purse and pulled out a cell phone, dialing a number into it. She put the phone up to her ear and took another drag from her cigarette as she waited for someone on the other end of the line to pick up. A moment later they did
“It’s done,” she said into the receiver
She waited a moment longer and then put the phone back in her purse, turning to the slack-jawed man beside her, a big, bright eyed smile gracing her colorful cheeks.
“Wanna have another go before I leave?”
This story is part of a series of short stories to come. Please let us know what you think and, more importantly, what else you would like to see, i.e. subject, emotion, background, style, etc.
The Temperamental Monkey