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FFF - A gift for Franklin

For the Flash Fiction Friday challenge for October 26, please use the image above. We’ll give this one a few more days of writing time than usual and try a somewhat longer word limit and see what happens; the required word count is 549 or less, excluding the title. The required phrase to use for this week is “…ever a dilettante ….”  Author's comments follow....


Chapter 1

She walked in to the room and could smell the money.  Feeling out of place and ever a dilettante, she kept her cool and surveyed the room.  She was happy she had answered the phone in spite of the headache, the hangover, her tired back, and her aching feet.  She looked around and realized that everything was authentic. The piano was 1913 Steinway upright with the original ivory keys and the balustrade lamps were straight out of San Francisco, pre-fire, she thought and started doing the math in her head.  This room alone was over $75,000 in decorating.  She knew she had found a good one.

Her booker had told her to dress upscale so she had at least been prepared.  Her outfit was the latest conservative Anne Taylor and her shoes were, well, her shoes were from “Sequins” the local stripper supply store, but the clients never noticed her shoes.  Not if she was doing her job right.

She walked in and he was sitting with his back toward her on the couch.  He didn’t turn when she stepped in and the house-girl hadn’t bothered to announce her once she figured out what was going on.  She’s been dissed by people for years because of her job, but it had paid for a condo in a good part of town and kept her mom in heat and groceries for years, so it just rolled off her back, but, to be sneered at by a 14 year old house-girl really got her goat. Let’s see how she’s doing when the old guy kicked the bucket and she wasn’t needed any more. 

She walked to the end of the couch and cleared her throat.  He looked over at her and smiled sweetly and nodded his head and turned back to his coffee.  He sat up straighter in the presence of company but she was taken aback by the stillness of him in the over decorated museum of a room. 

“Are you Franklin?” she asked as she unbuttoned the top buttons on her blouse, showing enough cleavage to clear away the uncertainty. 

He took a deep breath and looked at nowhere in particular and then back to her and said, “I believe so.”

He sipped again at his coffee and closed his eyes as it warmed his throat.  She stood there with her manicured fingertips on the next button waiting.  He was so; still, there on the couch.  She could feel the dust settle in his lungs between breaths and watched it swirl and dance across his lips as he exhaled.

He opened his eyes and she waited, smiling at him until he regained focus, but not understanding.

“Franklin,” she said as she smiled and kneeled at his feet, “do you know why I’m here?”  She rested her hand on his knee, surprised at the bone instead of muscle, suddenly feeling naked though only 3 buttons had been unleashed. 

He creaked out an answer in a voice that was at once sonorous at ancient, “I believe,” he cleared his throat to continue, “That it is my birthday.”  He looked down at her and connected the dots for the first time.  “Are you my present young lady?”

Delighted that he was with her now, she kneeled up tall and gave him a kiss on the paper thin skin of his cheek.  This was going to be interesting.

Chapter 2

“What kinds of music do you like Franklin?”  She was glad she had brought her iPod instead of her CDs.

“I’ve always ben partial… (Deep breath)…to Big Bands, swing, Tommy Dorsey and the like.  I do miss the Pavilion Dances.”

“Do you want me to dance for you now?”  She grinned at him over her shoulder, catching him looking at her behind with his head cocked to the side.”

He blushed with what little blood he had left in circulation and grinned, “Yes, … (breath)…I would like that.

She picked some upbeat swing music, uncertain if was Dorsey or Goodman but doubting that it made a big difference, her dance was the same.  Her major had been Design, not dance, so she was limited in talent, but unfettered in enthusiasm. 

Button after button opened and he tapped his foot in time with the music, sipping quietly at his coffee as she pealed down with each song.  She liked the old guy and wondered what his body was capable of after all these years. 

She danced, he smiled more and more, breathing heavy with each dropped article of clothing.  When she was down to bra and panties she danced to the end of the song and joined him on the couch. 

“Are you having a good birthday Franklin?” 

He turned away as the nearly naked woman brushed her bare breasts against his worn sweater.  She brought his chin back around with the feather touch of her finger.  “Are you having a good time?”

“Are you?” he asked, turning the tables.

She thought twice, then a third time, and replied, “Yes Franklin, I am” with a gleam in her eye, “and I’m about to have a very good time.”

The amount of her possible tip had faded in to the back of her mind and she decided to make, what might possibly be his last, birthday very special.  She stood and put on Tommy Dorsey’s swankiest tune and peeled off the final layers and worked her way to the floor.  Spreading for her new-found friend, she let him watch her most intimate performance to date.  She did everything her boyfriend urged her to do and realized, as she pulled wet fingers from her lips, that she was liking it more and more.  She spread and touched and herself moaning and squealing in delight.  She held her head up so she could maintain eye contact and kept her legs up high, strong, and open.  Then she felt it hit, like a freight train with too many cars, she was unable to stop it at all.  She didn’t even try.

He smiled with yellow teeth, blew out slowly, and sipped his coffee as he watched.

After her body stopped twitching she lay back on the floor and allowed her body to fall wantonly open to his gaze.  She rolled over as seductively as possible, crawling to him until she slid her hand up his inner thigh.  Her hand found his crotch but found nothing but the dying wish of an old man.

He shook his head sadly, “I was forever a dilettante with the ladies, I’m afraid. Do you happen to have a brother?”

Again, I had to cheat, so sue me.  I did use the required phrase twice and the piece is exactly 1098 words, double the allowed amount, though, greatly to my astonishment and practice, chapter 1 and chapter two are not of equal (549) length.

I liked the picture well enough, I loved his coffee cup and his somewhat disinterested expression.  What's a woman to do when she can't gain his interest in even her most intimate moments?  I thought about secondary ending where Franklin Jr. comes in and steals her away for HIS birthday party which is, of course, being held outside by the pool.  But I thought that lacked imagination and I wasn't in the mood to write another gang-bang piece about rich white boys.  I also wondered, as the ending came in to view, if he had been in denial about his sexuality his entire life, and if yes, how sad that must have been for him.

I credit the old man's voice in my head to an audio book that I just finished.  The story was bland, the reader bad, but he nailed the old man's voice, and it will be in my arsenal for a long time when I need to think of pretentious old men who believe themselves to have been wronged by the world.

I hope you enjoy the piece, as long as it was, I certainly had fun writing it.

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