Flash Fiction Challenge: Strangers in the Gloam

Chuck Wendig over at http://www.terribleminds.com issues Flash Fiction Challenges, where the goal is to take a series of words or phrases and create a short story under 1000 words using the words and/or the ideas expressed by the words. This week the words were: Figure, Dusk, Flirt, Mobile Phone, and Wig. Given those parameters, I present:

Strangers in the Gloam

“Hey handsome,” the voice floated out of the gloaming from behind him, “got a light?” He turned, the voluptuous curves of her figure almost hidden by the chiaroscuro.

Bryce patted his pockets, then shrugged. “Sorry,” he said “I quit.”

“It’s a disgusting habit.” the woman said, throwing her unlit cigarette in the gutter as she prowled toward him. Primal and predatory, she moved through the checkerboard of light and shadow. Her hair was long and red, and her dress clung to her as she moved.

“It was just an excuse to say hello, really.” the woman said as she stepped close to him. “What was?” Bryce muttered as the woman reached up to stroke his face, her crimson talons flashing like a school of piranha in his peripheral vision. “It doesn’t matter, ” she said, running her fingernails down his chest. “follow me.”

Bryce followed her down the block to a discrete pair of doors. She waved at the desk clerk in passing as she led Bryce down the dim corridors of a once stately hotel. Like the woman herself, the hotel was past her prime, but it was obvious that she had once been a queen. The art deco embellishments gleamed in the flickering electric candlelight and the burnished wooden doors shone with centuries of secrets.

The woman hesitated before a door, glancing almost nervously back at Bryce, before ushering him in. The room they entered was darkening quickly as dusk turned to night. She motioned for him to sit in an overstuffed chair overlooking the city. She stood in front of him, and slowly slid her dress from her shoulders, the silky material whispering down, catching on her nipples briefly before swirling around her feet, an onyx seashell for an olive skinned Venus.

She knelt down at Bryce’s feet, reaching for his belt buckle as her long red hair swept across his thighs. He closed his eyes as warmth engulfed him, riding waves of pleasure cresting into a crescendo…when the journey was interrupted by a soft, but insistent buzzing. He opened his eyes to see Venus glancing at the screen of her phone.

She released him with a sound like a champagne cork moving at high velocity as she rolled her eyes and answered the phone. “Hello. What? But you weren’t due here until tomorrow. No, no, of course we miss the children…absolutely….can’t wait to see you!”

“Goddammit!” Venus exclaimed as she stood up and pulled the long red wig off. “Put your pants on, Bryce,” she sighed, “the kids will be home in 10 minutes.”

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