Denis listened impatiently to the woman’s droning voice. Finally she was silenced, and he heard only the faint metallic staccato of Carol’s preparations, and his breath’s gentle susurration as he leaned over the woman’s supine figure.
Then Carol moved to stand beside him and the tempo of his breathing accelerated. Was there an echo in hers?
He lingered in this anticipated moment: the harmony of their breathing, her closeness – her readiness. A warm, tremulous glissando vibrated through him. He murmured the cue she was waiting for: ‘Suction.’
In his head a symphony exploded, drowning out the screaming of his drill.
This story is my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers, hosted kindly by Rochelle, who also provided this latest photo prompt. Each week writers submit flash fiction of 100 words in response to the given picture.