UNDER CONSTRUCTION

The Duel - Day 6

Round #6 in the week-long Flash Fiction duel between Selena Jardine and Alexis Siefert.

That's Amore

By Selena Jardine

(Flash Fiction - 287 words)

She does the supper dishes. She stands at the sink, beautiful despite the grey that's starting to show in her hair, humming slightly, thinking of nothing at all. She is not listening to the radio. She never listens to the radio. This is routine. She dries the dishes, puts them away.

She takes out the mop - this is Tuesday - and mops the kitchen floor, still humming. It is a tune she heard earlier in the day, perhaps in a store somewhere. "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie--"

She moves around the living room, bringing things to order. This is her job. An empty tumbler and a crumpled newspaper sit by the armchair. This is routine. She picks them up along with the ashtray and takes them into the clean kitchen.

While she is standing at the kitchen sink, washing the ashtray, the moon catches her eye.

She goes to bed. Her husband is there, waiting impatiently. This is routine. She runs a hand up his thigh and finds that he is already hard. She bends her head to him and takes his penis in her mouth, listening for the sharp exhalation that is her job evaluation. She is an expert. She swirls her tongue, flicking the tip. She bobs her head and moans a little, using the vibration of her voice for added sensation.

When he comes, she turns her head and, for the first time in her life, she spits over the side of the bed. He doesn't notice.

Afterward, she gets up without a sound, packs a small bag, gets in her car, and pulls out of the driveway.

It's her fifty-fifth birthday. She's taking early retirement.

Dinner and Dessert

FlashFic by Alexis Siefert

299 words

It was the only thing that could rouse him from his post-orgasmic stupor, and she knew it. He had settled in for that perfect, late-afternoon, warm-bed, after-sex nap when the smells hit him.

She was cooking.

Coffee first. He somehow missed the sound of the grinder, but the aroma of the first drops lured him from the bed.

Then butter. From the soft crackle, he knew she had the skillet warmed. He imagined the golden, silky pools melting on the hot surface.

Wrapping a towel around his waist, he slipped around the corner to watch as she cracked eggs into the butter and added a handful of mushrooms.

His stomach growled.

She laughed, not turning. She was wearing a short Chinese silk robe, tied loosely around her waist. The robe just covered her wonderful ass. He moved behind her, stroking under the curve of her bottom. She giggled and shuddered, but spread her legs slightly, and his fingers pressed in further, teasing between her lips.

He wrapped his other arm around her waist, pulling her against his chest. He yanked the dangling end of the tie, and opened her robe. He brushed her ear with his lips and whispered, "Keep cooking, we don't want dinner to burn."

She pressed back, grinding against him, but she didn't stop scrambling, didn't stop stirring. He watched chocolate melt in dark pools in the double-boiler.

"Do you want eggs first or your dessert?"

"Eggs, of course. Dessert after."

"Too bad," she said softly, turning to face him. She put her hand on his chest to push him back a step. As she spoke, she dipped the pastry brush in the warm, melted liquid and drew dark lines of chocolate over the tops of her breasts, circling her hard nipples. "Dessert is on me."

Round #7 in the week-long Flash Fiction duel between Selena Jardine and Alexis Siefert.