After She Left
Peter reels in the wake of his wife leaving him suddenly. He leaves his home half empty, and he leaves the shockingly short break-up note on the fridge where his wife left it. To spite her, he starts regularly going to the same gym as his wife. That’s where he first sees Elle, an intriguing woman with a massive tattoo and must learn what it's like to move on. More
Peter reels in the wake of his wife leaving him suddenly. He leaves his home half empty, and he leaves the shockingly short break-up note on the fridge where his wife left it. To spite her, he starts regularly going to the same gym as his wife. That’s where he first sees Elle, an intriguing woman with a massive tattoo. Later, he meets her in a bar and sparks fly. Quickly, he learns that what seems like an end can actually be a new beginning.
WARNING! This short 4000+ word short story contains graphic and explicit depictions of sex between consenting adults. It is intended only for a mature and adult readers over the age of 18.
I looked at her strangely. “It’s Saturday night, and you’re reading in a bar?”
“Beats doing it at home.” She glanced around for the bartender. “He, Steve, two shots of tequila.”
My stomach turned. I hated tequila, but I hated even more the thought of not drinking it with her. Besides, you don’t turn down free booze. Several shots later, she had filled me on the elementary aspects of ballistics and blood spatter. It seemed rather weird, but I loved her conviction and confidence. Plus, listening to her talk seemed a lot better than dishing out on my problems. I certainly didn’t want to think about Olivia leaving. Neither of us got too hammered, but the tequila and the beer certainly had us a little more liberated than if we were sober. Then, bell rang and the lights came on as the bartender yelled “last call.”
“Oh, phooey,” Elle said with a pout. “The night is too young.”
Even while rather tipsy, I felt uneasy about what I felt like saying. Still, I had enjoyed being around her enough to wish we’d met earlier in the evening. “I have a few bottles of wine at home. Want to go uncork one?”
We walked the block and a half back to my house. We walked in, and she followed me into my kitchen as I went to fetch that wine bottle. Only, she took the cork screw out of my hands and put it back onto the counter. I quickly learned that the old adage is true; tequila does make people do rash, impulsive things. “I think you and I have had enough to drink, actually.”
“But,” I couldn’t get the sentence out.
“You don’t normally invite a girl in unless you have other intentions.” She stared into my eyes with a warm, but hungry way.
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