mechanic-63201-public-domainJohn reminded Lorelei of her first husband. That was not a good thing. Still, the resemblance was mostly physical, and she could always close her eyes.

Where her ex-husband had been loud and domineering, John was quiet and passive.

Unlike her ex-husband, John treated her with respect.

With her lover’s baby growing inside her and her current husband conspicuously absent, Lorelei was growing ever more desperate. She’d been a wife twice and a mistress once. Neither position seemed to have a great advantage over the other. As a mistress, she’d known she was wanted. As a wife, she’d known she was not.

If John would take her as either, she’d do her best to make him happy. She was good on her knees… or flat on her back, or bent over a three legged barstool while his friends jeered…

No. John wouldn’t be like that. He’d probably use her as his end-of-the-day relief each night and then fall asleep on top of her. She could live with that. At least he was well-off enough to have a cook and a maid; if her husband had indeed abandoned her as she suspected he had, John would make a good safety net. He wasn’t wealthy, but he was safe. Maybe this time she could keep her baby.

“John…” she said, taking the opportunity now that he’d finished tightening the huge…something or other on whatever the invention was.

He nearly dropped his wrench, and blushed ten shades of crimson. “My lady… Your Grace… I… hello. What can I do for you?”

Lorelei wasn’t sure how to flirt. She was used to being pursued and claimed. And she was the wife of John’s employer… he might not be so eager to endanger his position.

“I was just wondering if you’d heard anything from His Grace…” It was a stupid thing to say and she regretted it. She didn’t want to think about him, or who he might be with, or what he might do to her when he came home. If he came home.

John perked up. “Oh, yes Your Grace. He’ll be arriving on Sunday.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday… it echoed in her mind. She had until Sunday to manipulate John into feeling something for her. Pity might work in such a short time frame. And pity she could live with whether or not her husband threw her out.

I’m off on a new WIP. Well, it’s a story I put on the shelf a few months ago. But it’s where my brain is right now and I’m going to try and take advantage of the fact and whip out a rough draft as quickly as I can before my brain moves on to something else. I’ve used the last several flash fiction prompts for warm-ups to the story. This one was for Flash Friday, and the prompt was the picture. The previous post Emeralds and Sapphires is another. While I’m at it, I might as well include the third flash I used as a warm-up to the story. It’s called Squirm and I used it for #FiveMinuteFiction this week. The prompt was, again, the photo. This one would come first chronologically out of the three.

Omalley-5-Minute-Fiction-Prompt-300x193His bride looked at the cup with obvious disgust. “No thank you,” she said with what seemed to be polite sincerity. Then again, he’d noticed her perk up with an obvious appetite as soon as the smell of tea wafted in to them.

Lorelei turned a delicate shade of purple when he picked up his own mug and took a deep drink. It scalded his throat, but it was worth it to see his prodigal wife attempt to control the urge to squirm and run.

Her hand actually reached for a biscuit, but she withdrew it when she couldn’t figure out a way to take one that was not touching the encrusted edge.

Now that she was home, he wasn’t quite sure what to with her.

But one thing was certain. She would squirm. She would squirm and he would enjoy every minute of it.

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