500 words based on a sentence selected by Dive. Click here for more info.
This week's sentence is from Louisa May Alcott's Little Women: "A pair of silk stockings, that pretty carved fan, and a lovely blue sash."
Miss Smith waited in a booth at the back of the diner, gazing out the window and idly playing with the carved ivory fan she’d picked up at a second-hand store, its pierced floral pattern really quite attractive. She was, as always, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit and blouse, makeup and hair fresh and immaculate. An untouched cup of black coffee cooled at her elbow. She checked the time on the neon clock over the swinging door to the kitchen. He was late, as usual. He’d say it was due to an abundance of caution. She knew it was just sloppiness.
“Miss Smith,” he greeted her, standing tableside. Damn, he smelled good.
“Mr. Richmond,” she sighed as he slid onto the facing seat. Their irises briefly glowed red in recognition as they made eye contact.
“Been shopping?” he asked, noticing the fan. He reached for the menu resting at the edge of the table, but did not open it.
“Supplies,” she said, picking up the fan and putting it into her tote bag. “A pair of silk stockings, that pretty fan, and a lovely blue sash.” She drew the cup of coffee toward her.
A waiter approached to top off her coffee and take their order. Miss Smith waved him away.
“How was your evening?” Mr. Richmond asked, trying to sound casual.
“More pleasant than I’d anticipated,” Miss Smith said, a small smile playing across her face, revealing the slightest hint of her dimples. “Jarvis is fully prepped. I set him up with two triggers. Either the song or the catch phase will induce a trance, making him fully receptive to our instructions. And I planted a visual in his subconscious and in his office just to keep him off-balance.”
Mr. Richmond nodded approvingly. “So he’s a likely subject?”
“Seems to be. He’s clever, intuitive and highly resilient. The tests will tell us more,” Miss Smith replied, reaching into her bag and passing Mr. Richmond a small padded envelope. “And he’s got some special skills I particularly enjoyed.”
Mr. Richmond ignored her last comment, knowing she was just trying to bait him. Their history was personal. This was business.
“Samples?” he asked as the small package disappeared inside his jacket.
“Hair and skin. Saliva. Seminal fluid. All there.”
“And the other?” Mr. Richmond continued.
“Not on a first date, Timothy.” Miss Smith batted her eyes coquettishly. “What sort of girl do you think I am?”
“Really Roz?” said Mr. Richmond, raising an eyebrow. A small spark flashed between their hands, resting millimeters apart on the faded formica. “Technically, you’re not any sort of girl at all.”
“There’ll be other opportunities,” she said. “We’ll take him aboard the ship. He’ll be expecting the full experience. The strobing lights, the cold metal table, the biting restraints, the looming, menacing probe.” She smiled broadly.
“Why wait? You had full access last night,” he insisted. “You just had to flip him over.”
“That would've been unprofessional,” said Rosamond, dimpling. She beckoned the waiter.
copyright (c) 2010 Lulubelle B