Flash Fiction – Love is…

I got a message from a reader on StoriesOnline this week about one of my flash offerings, entitled Love is… He was very complimentary of the 300 word story, and it prompted me to read it again since I hadn’t read it in a while.

And he was right – it is very nice.

My Flash stories are the least read of all my stories on SOL so I thought I’d offer you the chance to read them on this blog. Over the next few weeks I’ll post some of them and I’d love to know what you think of them.

Love is… was written while my wife was pregnant and as part of a challenge at The Fishtank to write a story that had a lot of smells in it. This is one of the very first flash stories I ever wrote. I hope you enjoy it.

Love is…

She meets me at the door. “You’re late.”

“I had to clean up.”

She holds me close and rests her head on my shoulder. I breathe deeply. She’s used her peppermint shampoo. The one that’s good for headaches.

“You smell like the bar.”

She’s right. I can smell it myself—the second-hand tobacco, the stale beer, the oil from the fryer. The stench hangs off my clothes and adheres to my skin. “Goes with job.”

“Do you need two jobs? I never see you.”

“We need the extra cash. I’ll take a shower. Get in bed and I’ll join you when I’m done.”

The shower is invigorating. I walk into the bedroom. She is under the covers, lying on her side. She always sleeps naked. I slip into bed and spoon up beside her. Her skin is soft and smooth and smells of camomile. I put my head on her lavender scented pillow and drape my arm over her. I cup her breast and squeeze tenderly.

“Ow. Don’t. They’re sore.”

I let go and slide my hand down her body until it rests on her once flat belly. I’m hard. She must feel me against her rear.

“I want to make love,” she says, “but I’m scared.”

“Don’t be. It won’t do any harm?”


“I promise.”

I adjust my hips. She does too. “Be gentle.”

One thrust and we are one. “Go slowly.”

I go as slowly as either of us can stand, but it’s been weeks. We’re both aching for release and I get carried away. She moans and comes first. Before she’s finished, I fill her with more seed, not that it’s needed. I hug her gently and whisper sweet words in her ear. My hand returns to her belly. My latest, greatest reason to love her.

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