Welcome to Friday Fictioneers, the best flash fiction in town! Each week– on Wednesday, not Friday, writers from all over the world throw their hats in the ring, and respond to a photo prompt. Rochelle Wisoff-Fields leads our merry band, and this week Sandra Crook provided the muse. Join us or check out other stories, on Rochelle’s blog, Addicted to Purple.
My story this week is a continuation from the prompt two weeks ago. It stands alone, but if you want to read part one, check it out here. Positive or constructive criticism are always welcome.
Let’s face it; his accent is what got me. Call me easy; call me a slut, but I came here to forget the divorce– it worked. Mostly. You don’t forget a fifteen-year marriage by sleeping with one Spaniard; but frankly, an exotic lover’s a major jump-start to recovery.
After fifteen years, three of them fighting, sex with Jimmy was like six-day old baguettes: stale and unappetizing. Alvaro was fresh, exciting…delicious. His hand on my leg, then under my skirt, was a game-changer; his playful “Fanthy a rrroll in de hay” sealed the deal. That lisp, who could resist?
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