This was the first of three microfictions I did when I co-hosted a day over at Torquere Press's LiveJournal Community. The prompt was "milkshake" and "heart rate." Took me about half an hour. Enjoy!
Kimmie perched on the barstool, her short-shorts too damn short to keep the skin of her thighs from sticking to the vinyl. Every time she shifted there was a squeaky ripping sound, but she couldn't help it, recrossing her legs yet again as Mari leaned over the counter.
"Here's your milkshake," Mari said. The loose neck of her scooped tee gaped open, exposing the swollen half-rounds of her breasts.
God, she looks good enough to eat. Like a mocha sundae. Kimmie couldn't tear her eyes away, her heart rate spiking hard as she looked down the other girl's shirt. Why did she do this to herself every week? She'd never have the guts to ask Mari out. "Thanks."
This was usually where Mari would smile and bounce away, but business was slow tonight. Instead Mari leaned on her elbows and propped her fist on her chin. "You're a chocolate fan, huh?"
Kimmie jumped, blushing, half afraid Mari had somehow seen Kimmie's mental image of licking lines of syrup off Mari's skin. She looked up at last. "I'm sorry?"
"You're in here every Tuesday for a chocolate shake. You must really love chocolate."
Mari's brown eyes sparkled. "Funny, I'm a strawberry fan, myself." She reached out and ran a lock of Kimmie's red-blond hair through her fingers.
The door jingled, and Mari pushed away from the counter before Kimmie could get anything past the sudden lump in her throat. "Here's your bill," Mari said, pushing the slip across the slick surface before going to greet the new customers.
Why can't I ever say anything? Dejected, Kimmie looked down.
At the bottom of the slip was a phone number, and a message. "I get off work at 8. Milkshakes at my place? Mari."
Biting her lip, Kimmie glanced at her watch. There was time to run out to the store for chocolate sauce, if she hurried.
Copyright © 2010 Mercy Loomis
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