Photo courtesy of Marie Gail Stratford
The hotel bar thrummed with the pop of champagne and the chink of glasses. I slid onto an empty stool. The man next to me rolled the sleeves up on his shirt, his arms were tanned and although I noticed the faint white strip where his wedding ring should be, I didn’t mention it when he introduced himself.
A frisson of excitement ran through me.
Our eyes locked. Electricity crackled.
Soon we were in the lift, pulling at clothes, panting hard.
My phone rang. The babysitter.
‘Sorry.’ I said. ‘Maybe next year?’
‘Happy anniversary’ he muttered, slipping his ring back on. ‘Let’s go home.’
Written for Friday Fictioneers. A 100 word story inspired by a photo prompt. Hop over to host Rochelle’s blog and read the other entries here.