A little flash fiction about the current economy? Or is this about a successful ‘career woman’?

As a shaker started to rattle nearby, Tony what’s his name leaned in a little closer. Just over the martini being tossed around with the ice, “I think most men would run from you. But, you being a widow three times over and only forty-three years old rather intrigues me.”

Diana looked at her slender, but very strong hand and replied, “Thanks Tony.”

Tony’s lean turned permanent as the drink was being poured somewhere down the bar, “So, you’re unemployed? I find it hard to believe that someone with the amount of character you exhibit could be without something meaningful to occupy your time. Do you mind if I inquire as to what happened with your last employment?” Then a slight laugh,  “Oh geez. Sorry. I know I sound like an interviewer now.”

Diana gave a slight smile as she touched Tony’s arm, “It is quite all right Tony.” She caught his eyes and cast the spell, ”My last employer struggled in this economy. The fall was too great and he couldn’t survive.”

Tony displayed a bit of cunning as he gently rested one hand on her knee, right at the hem of the slinky black dress, and cradled the stem of his martini glass. As if the glass was a crystal ball, Tony stared at it, “I’ve been extremely fortunate in this climate.” A well calculated pause, then a glance in to Diana’s ocean blue eyes, “Extremely so.”

Diana felt so alive as they drove up the coast to his beach house for drinks and an extension of the evening . Her raven black hair being tossed in the night air trapped every light that pierced the dark. She recalled that her second husband owned a CLK350, just like the one she was in. God, she missed that car, and here she was, once again, but only  after a game that she played so deftly. She, herself, was impressed at her long honed skills.

She looked over at Tony as a vision of a weighty bank book flooded her mind. On the cover of the book read the name of Anthony….”Tony darling, what is your last name again?”…….Ciprio. Yes, Anthony Ciprio.  Forty-nine year old investment broker. Maneuvering funds adeptly in and out of medical concerns as if he were a champion with an epee. Successful Anthony Ciprio likes the martinis served at The Prestige, and slender Italian looking women with long black hair. Anthony Ciprio, a sucker for a tight fitting dress whose hem tugs at the top of the knee.

“I’m sorry Tony. I do have a terrible time with last names.”

© 2010, Alex Crabtree. All rights reserved.

Years ago I started writing Flash Fiction for just the sheer enjoyment of writing, and now it has turned into a full blown addiction. I can't quit the horse, man! Another dirty little secret about me is my ability to write all kinds of web content. SEO content, articles, blog posts, manifests; you name it, I'll write it. Looking for some help? My gun hangs at r.alex.crabtree@gmail.com

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This entry was posted on July 18, 2010 at 2:00 pm and is filed under Alex, Featured, Flash Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.