by Rose Vanden Eynden
For Day Three of the Writers Digest Flash Fiction Challenge
Word Count: 219
By Rose Vanden Eynden
The supply closet smelled of Lysol, dirty water, and desperation. Beyond the closed door, she could hear the raucous chorus of the raging office party. She wasn’t even drunk, although she imagined telling coworkers that she was next week, when they rehashed the events of the night and asked where she’d wandered off to.
He fumbled with the front clasp of her bra. He had a cheesy 70’s style moustache, for Christ’s sake. What was she doing? But then her breasts spilled into his hands, and his sharp intake of breath thrilled her. She didn’t care. It had been way too long. She wrapped her arms around his neck, waiting for his kiss.
But he stopped. She frowned and looked into his eyes. They were hazel, hungry but confused. She’d seen this expression before.
“Where does this lead?” he gasped.
For a moment, the words dulled the heat in her body. She couldn’t let this go. She needed to finish what she’s started.
She licked her lips and smiled her most wicked grin. “Nowhere good.”
Anticipation rippled across his face, like an eager boy’s. She leaned into his weight and pressed her lips against his stubbled neck.
And bit him. Warm, sweet blood filled her mouth. She sighed with pleasure.
Better than sex. Always.