Mrs Robinson slid off the kitchen table, smoothing her skirt over her knees.
It would be nice, just occasionally, if he’d stay awhile afterwards, perhaps share a glass of wine, a cupcake even.
As ever though, his mind was now elsewhere. She studied his muscular back, remembering a time when …
He turned, his dispassionate gaze raking her body from head to toe.
Then his face softened, as though taking in her needs, her frailties.
“If you’ll show me where the dustpan and brush are, I’ll sweep these up for you, shall I?” he asked, indicating the yellowed toenail clippings on the kitchen floor.
Why? What were you thinking? Tut! Friday Fictioneers kicks off on Wednesday again, under the stewardship of our gracious hostess and the provider of this week’s photographic prompt – Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If it hadn’t been for Rochelle’s story, I wouldn’t have known it was Hollywood – it looked a bit like Hong Kong to me. I might have disgraced myself here … I may still have, in fact. 😉