The Long & The Short of It

When I decided to write fiction, I began with a novel. It was something I’d thought about for a very long time and really wanted to accomplish. A short while later, I became a member of Sisters in Crime and was exposed to a different form of fiction: the short story.

SinC pals like Terrie Farley Moran, Hilary Davidson, and Kathy Ryan were writing great short stories and flash fiction pieces, a form I’d never even heard of before. Short fiction had a certain appeal and I thought I’d give it a try.

The results so far have been “Out of Luck,” a story which is in the upcoming New York Sisters in Crime anthology, MURDER NEW YORK STYLE: FRESH SLICES and “Fatal Flaw,” which was published online at “Beat To A Pulp.

I have another story I’ve been working on and saving for the right venue. I think this is it and I’d like to premiere it here at Women of Mystery.
The story, which comes in at 690 words, is entitled “Waiting Room” and I hope you enjoy it.

Hubba, hubba, thought John as the woman took a seat opposite him. The old-time phrase flashed through his mind unbidden and instantly reminded him of walking around town with his granddad when he was a child. A poke in the ribs and a whispered “Don’t tell your Grandma,” had inevitably followed as the old man stared open-mouthed at some pretty young girl they’d passed on the street. Well, granddad would sure be staring now.

Wow, she’s hot, he almost said aloud, catching himself just in time. Better than hot. The woman sitting opposite him was smokin’. She had settled herself comfortably on the end of a small floral sofa and was already immersed in a magazine. Tall—man, he hadn’t missed those long legs when she sauntered in—and curvy, with wavy brunette hair and spectacular blue eyes, she was the whole package. He watched from behind his newspaper as she crossed her legs and her short skirt rose up a little higher on her thighs.

She’s mine. It’s a done deal. All I have to do walk over there, ask her out and she’ll want me so bad she’ll have to say yes. The sex will be great. Like nothing she’s ever had before. So great, we’ll never leave the apartment. Just order in when we have to eat, if we can tear ourselves away from each other. John took off his glasses and started polishing them as he thought ahead to his plans for tonight.

#

Emily had noticed the guy as soon as she’d walked in the office. He’d put down the paper he’d been reading and was carefully polishing his glasses. Cute. Actually very cute with buzz cut sandy brown hair and deep brown eyes set wide apart. Dressed okay, too, in black jeans and a button down shirt. Casual, but nice. He didn’t give off the vibe of a financial type, or a lawyer, which was fine with her. She’d had enough of those guys. He seemed more settled than that. Maybe did something with computers or the web. From where she sat, it looked like he had a good body. Like he worked out and spent more than a little time in the gym. Probably had a few tricks he’d liked to show off at the right time and she was just the girl to coax them out of him. She bit her lip and raised her eyes from her magazine focusing on the middle distance. If she smiled at him now, she bet he’d come running.

#

But what if she gets clingy. John gulped and suddenly was having trouble swallowing. What if she wants a relationship with all the commitment that could lead to. No way. That’s just not happening. Hot or not. I mean I like her and all that. She’s terrific but I don’t think so. This is just way too complicated.

#

No. I’d better rethink the smiling before I do anything stupid, Emily told herself. I mean who is he anyway. Okay, the body’s a plus, but underneath he’s probably just some boring online guy who’s a total nerd. God knows if he even has any imagination. I mean, look at him sitting there wiping those glasses over and over again. You know, they’re not going to get any cleaner, buddy, she wanted to shout at him. I bet he’s all into having virtual fun instead real fun, as if he’d know the difference. He probably never wants to go anywhere, just stay home and play with his computer. Well, he can play with whatever he likes on his own. What a loser. I never want to see him again.

#

“Mr. Matthews,” the receptionist said as she put down her phone, “the Doctor is ready for you now. Through that door please,” she added and pointed to her left.

John rose and tucked his glasses into his shirt pocket. “Bitch,” he whispered to himself as he walked in front of the woman on the couch.

Emily shuddered slightly as the man passed by. “Asshole,” she muttered under her breath and turned the page of her magazine.

The End

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