“What I want ain’t on the menu, sweet cheeks.” His usual prelude to a grab at her ass.
He was a regular. She and Annie disagreed about the regulars, this one in particular, but Annie was the owner as well as the cook. “He’s just having a little harmless fun,” Annie would say.
He always sat at her tables. If she worked the counter he took a stool. “Lean over the counter, show me your specials.”
Straightening involuntarily, she endured his dessert order. “Gimme a taste of your cream-pie.”
“I knew you’d say that,” she said. “Here you go, made it special. The pie is to die for today.”
My response to the challenge of #FFR event # 7: Write a flash fiction in 109 words, no more, no less and weave a murderous vibe through an every-day setting, either in thought or deed. Go to Carrot Ranch and enter this contest for the chance to win cash.