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Message-ID: <36931asstr$1024683002@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: drspin@newsguy.com
Subject: {ASSM} [rom fest] Flash Challenge - Timepiece ~ by DrSpin
Date: Fri, 21 Jun 2002 14:10:02 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

Timepiece
(Flash Fiction - 258 words)
by Neil Anthony/DrSpin

---------------------------------------------------------
* The author welcomes comments and opinions from readers 
and is invariably motivated to respond. Write to:
drspin@newsguy.com or neil@ruthiesclub.com

* DrSpin's Standard Disclaimer: 
I write and you read, if you care to. That's all there is 
to it. Any reader who is offended should not have been here 
in the first place.
---------------------------------------------------------

A woman is a timepiece. I look at her and I judge the passage 
of years with pitiless accuracy.

Too old. Dismissed.

Clothes, hairstyles, fitness, cosmetics, creams, drugs, 
surgical intervention -- these things may blur the edge of a 
year or two. Such blurs are hard won, never wholly 
convincing, barely qualifying as temporary. But because 
there's a blur I take a second, closer look. 

She's done awfully well. Worked hard. Tried her best. But.

Too old. Dismissed.

I'm home early, fresh from Thursday Liar's Club, where men 
like me pretend brilliantly for too many summers that we are 
invincible, and that we will never die. We don't hit the ball 
long off the tee any more, nor even putt bravely, but nobody 
has the bad grace to mention it.

Sitting in my chair, unexpected, I catch her emerging from the 
bathroom with a towel wrapped turban-like around her head and 
another wound around her waist. No make-up. No clothes. No 
props. Just her, flat-footed, breasts bare.

I suddenly remember coveting her breasts when they were half 
the size.

She sees me and blinks, startled. She begins to cover her 
breasts with her hands, and stops reluctantly, awkwardly, 
unhappily. We've been married nearly thirty years, but it's 
been a long, long time since she was exposed to the naked eye.

I take a second, closer look.

She walks briskly past me into the bedroom, trying not to 
rush.

"Nice tits," I say.

She won't acknowledge it, but it's the sweetest thing I've 
said to her in a decade.

ENDS

Edited by Selena Jardine.
      

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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