ONCE MORE... FOR OLD TIMES' SAKE
“I just hate these meetings – full of losers. I don’t know why I come, really” said the blond on my right, nervously running a hand through his candyfloss hair.
“Well they keep me on the straight and narrow” I smiled at him, dimly hoping he didn’t have to dash off. “Don’t they you?” I asked - hoping he’d engage; he looked inviting. Tempting on a lonely night.
“Oh well!…Sometimes they do…and sometimes...“ He smiled lavisciously, slowly - licking his full lips as if he were tasting me.
“Fancy a quick one, around the back?” He winked at me, and nodded towards the fire exit.
“Yes…please” I squeaked, my imagination running hot riot.
Furtively, I followed him out of the back entrance. And there amid the drenched squalor of waterlogged refuse he slaked my thirst. The heady taste of that first gulp! A relic of those carefree un-tipped days - before the safety police got hold of the vital tube; a welcomed throwback to a less caring time. The rain fell harder; the drops bounced off my nose and misted up my glasses. I began to identify with the sodden rubbish.
Ah, but it was worth it - to be able to pollute my lungs once more!
AVIS HICKMAN-GIBB writes from her home in rural
"This story started as a flash writing-group piece. I enjoyed inserting the ambiguity(smoking, sex), role reversal (a blond bimbo - male) and dipping a toe into the world of addiction (the story takes place at an AA meeting)."