Thanks to Doug Danielson, a friend in the Puerto Vallarta Writer’s Group, I happened across Ellis Vidler’s blog — ‘Unpredictable Muse.’ The post was intriguing. Three authors wrote a response to the picture on the right. I’m kind of embarrassed to admit that at first I thought Ellis was the guy in the pic, only to find out she most certainly was not. Anyway, there it is — it’s also on her post.
I also didn’t know she had limited the three authors to 150 words. Sigh. Ignorance really can be bliss. I loved what they wrote, but none got to my take on the guy. Wondering if I was the only one tempted to do the same, I submitted my version. Turned out to be a 300 word flash fiction that some readers seemed to like. That got me to thinking I might should post it on my blog. What do you think? If you like it, I got more.
I saw him every time I went to the Night Owl Cafe. Usually I pretended to be engrossed in a book. I’ll even admit I bought Camus’s The Plague to impress him. Significant, impactful. Not as well-known as The Stranger.
The night he came to my table I was actually reading – The Mists of Avalon. He slid into the chair across the small round table, asked if he could buy me a glass of wine. I smiled, nodded.
“I’ve seen you here before. You a student?” he asked, accent on the last syllable. I nodded again and finally managed a yes. Up close I found him even sexier. Curly black hair, 2-day beard, cigarette between his lips. He looked as if he spent most of his time in bedrooms, satisfying women. But his eyes. Set back under a powerful brow and thick eyebrows. Piercing, intelligent, a little scary. Irristible. I wanted them eyeing all of me, appreciating, soaking me in.
I stared at his cigarette, wanting to pull it out and fill the void with my lips. He asked questions. I remember telling him I was in Italy for my semester abroad and was only in Venice for the week. When he gently touched my hand and asked if I wanted to leave, my body answered for me. This sensual, enigmatic man would be my first one-night stand. Or just maybe he could be the one. His hand was cold; mine clammy. Maybe he felt it too.
We walked along the canals, chatting, laughing, hugging. Finally the kiss. I had imagined his full lips warm, hot on mine. But they were so cold. I pulled back and turned away, only glimpsing the sudden movement of his head and mouth before I felt two teeth sink powerfully into my neck.