SUSAN TIPPETT BRAITHWAITE

Welcome to #33 of the Friday Fiction Writing Challenge! Here’s a complete list of all the posts so far. Feel free to join in.

This week’s random word is: Politics.

The moment I saw the prompt word, last week’s characters popped into my head. This scene comes after they’ve had dinner together.

Avril swallowed hard and forced herself to take Michel’s hand. The man had a way of bypassing her default setting of refuse. He’d convinced her to let him drive them to a different restaurant, and now the worst: dancing in public.

Michel lifted her hand to his lips. The warmth of his mouth spread up her arm. Danger. She needed to stop that heat from spreading any further. “You here on business?”

Michel stiffened just the slightest. Fierce eyes lurked in a mask of mild curiosity. “Why’d you ask that?”

Avril gave herself a mental shake. Leave work at work. “I figured you met me after work.” She brought their clasped hands closer. “A little dirt under your nails. We’re used to it here; we’ve got a lot of visiting geologists in the region.”

With a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Michel said, “Observant. Did you also notice that I can’t take my eyes off of you?” He leaned down to her ear and nipped the lobe. “Let’s get some air.”

Avril gasped. She needed to clear the fog he was creating in her head. “Yeah, great idea.”

Michel led her into the ornamental gardens and flashed that not-quite-a-smile smile before pulling her into an old maze. As soon as they took the first turn, Michel pinned her to a prickly wall and kissed her. Before Avril could regain her senses, Michel had a Glock on her. He gave her a pained smile.

Without thinking, Avril’s training took over. She slammed her stiletto into his foot and kneed him in the groin.

Michel regained his composure surprisingly fast and flew at her, sending them both sprawling to the ground. He fought off her flailing limbs and wrapped his arm around her neck.

“Who are you, beautiful, Avril?” He emptied her purse onto the ground and picked up her ID.

Avril struggled but couldn’t move him. “Who the fuck are you?”

Michel pulled out his phone and relayed her information. A genuine smile lit up his disturbingly handsome face.

“What? Who was that? Who do you work for?”

“Don’t ruin our first date with politics, Inspector Gaston.”

After another busy week, I’m looking forward to an obscene amount of hot chocolate while I catch up with comments and everyone else’s amazing posts on Reader.

Thanks for reading and have a relaxing weekend!

If you’d like to join in, the more the merrier (no matter your skill level), read on for more information.

How To Join In:

• Using the prompt, write a maximum of 250-ish words of fiction. (This can be a scene, flash fiction, some dialogue, a bit of description, etc.)
• Link to this post in your post.
• Add the tags ffwc, genre scribes, and the genre your post is in.
• The deadline is 6 PM the following Friday.

Full information is on the Genre Scribes: Friday Fiction Writing Challenge page.