peach lace
Aug. 14th, 2003 08:46 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
twistedchick posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
ds_flashfictionMy first flashfiction post, just something frilly and utilitarian next to the knickers...
The Goat wheezed at Ray, and Ray groaned. Ninety-five in the shade, stuck in the Industrial Zone with a broken fan belt. In this heat, the engine would overheat in no time.
One car fire with the Mountie had been enough. He didn't need a second, and with his own car too. Besides, Fraser was expecting him at the Consulate in ten minutes.
Nothing useful in the back seat or under the front seat, other than the spare bone Dief had hidden for long trips, which Ray left. It felt good that it took so little to make *someone* happy.
That left the glove box.
The latch caught. He yanked it hard and the garter belt nearly flew into his hand.
Four long strips of elastic covered with peach satin and lace that set off Stella's long golden legs. It still smelled like Stella a little, that wispy scent of L'heur Bleu underlying her own fragrance ... and his. It had been in the glove box from long before the divorce, from the time they'd gone to the last good drive-in on the North Side and made out like kids in the big back seat.
Good times.
Ray stroked the satin and lace one last time. Still good. He tied it into a loop and tested its strength -- yeah, it would work.
With any luck he'd still be on time to take Fraser to the ball game.
The Goat wheezed at Ray, and Ray groaned. Ninety-five in the shade, stuck in the Industrial Zone with a broken fan belt. In this heat, the engine would overheat in no time.
One car fire with the Mountie had been enough. He didn't need a second, and with his own car too. Besides, Fraser was expecting him at the Consulate in ten minutes.
Nothing useful in the back seat or under the front seat, other than the spare bone Dief had hidden for long trips, which Ray left. It felt good that it took so little to make *someone* happy.
That left the glove box.
The latch caught. He yanked it hard and the garter belt nearly flew into his hand.
Four long strips of elastic covered with peach satin and lace that set off Stella's long golden legs. It still smelled like Stella a little, that wispy scent of L'heur Bleu underlying her own fragrance ... and his. It had been in the glove box from long before the divorce, from the time they'd gone to the last good drive-in on the North Side and made out like kids in the big back seat.
Good times.
Ray stroked the satin and lace one last time. Still good. He tied it into a loop and tested its strength -- yeah, it would work.
With any luck he'd still be on time to take Fraser to the ball game.
