The Ring--Not-So-Flash Fiction Inspired by a Story by Gary V. Powell

It was date night. They were new to empty-nesting and hadn't yet realized every night was date night.

Meredith took her last bite of lamb vindaloo, drank her last sip of cabernet franc, dabbed at her brow with her napkin and made a controlled dash to the bathroom. In the cool privacy of tile and porcelain, she stripped off her black silk blouse. She let the water run cold and splashed her neck, shoulders, and middling cleavage, not caring if her Natori zebra bra got wet. Dry or wet, she was sure Eric was going to love her new lingerie.

Damn these hot flashes! What purpose do they serve except to humiliate you and remind you you're getting old?

She checked again to be sure the door was locked then resumed her sink ablutions, this time including her pits and arms. She wished for the umpteenth time that bidets were the norm in the U.S. A little cold water spritz on the undercarriage would be put her right in no time.

Meredith gauged her body temperature by checking to see if she could remove her wedding ring. Only when she could slide it off was she sure she wouldn't suffer another imminent attack. Within ten minutes she was able to slip off the band.  She put herself back together hoping Eric wouldn't make a big deal of her long absence once she got back to the table. He could be so annoying sometimes. To distract him, she left the top four buttons of her blouse undone, slid off her slightly moist matching striped thong and walked back to the table.

She playfully leaned over Eric's shoulder flashing her bra and tucked the scant panties into his shirt pocket. He pulled the small wad out and a grin subsumed his chin.

"New?"
"Uh-huh. We need to break 'em in. You game?"
"Check's paid. Let's get outta here jungle woman."

In the car she unzipped him to get him fully fluffed for home. That's when she realized she'd left her ring on the sink.

Shit. If Eric finds out... He thinks I'm a scatterbrained twit these days. With one kid starting college and one kid starting a new job fresh out of college, my commute, my job, the garden, the pets, the beef with my sister, Dad's heart condition, Mom's diabetes, a hyper-critical husband prone to yelling and these effing hot flashes, sometimes it's all I can do to remember my name. No worries, though. I know what to do.

Without missing a stroke she kept him at the ready until they arrived at the house. She gently but firmly grasped Eric's joystick and led him to bed where she proceeded to play him like a flute.

She wooed him with her expert embrasure, wow-ed him with her highly-trained tonguing. He thrilled as she trilled. Her vibrato was full throttle. She changed tempo--largo to allegro to presto and back. She varied her style--dolce, animato, appassionato. He crescendoed, then decrescendoed--until his breathing made her worry for his health. After an hour of their sweaty duet, she orchestrated their paroxysme musical.

Eric slept like an overly-sated Satyr while she called the restaurant. Some kind person had turned in her ring. She got in the car, got the ring and was back in bed within 20 minutes.

Whew! Went off without a hitch. Next time--we'll eat outside on the patio. This date night was a bit more exciting than intended.

While Meredith absentmindedly twisted the ring on her finger trying not to think about her growing list of worries and relax into sleep, Eric dreamed of his empty nest being filled with models in animal print lingerie.