The words over at Three Word Wednesday are backward, ease and omission.
Hopefully, by the end of the day, I will have a high-speed Interweb connection. Until then, I give you a drabble. Just a slip of fiction, in 100 words.
She counts backward from 100, as he instructs. There’s some rustling, but she resists the urge to open her scrunched-tight eyes.
Hands move across her nakedness, raising gooseflesh. Her nipples are erect. Her heart races, nostrils flair with ragged breath.
She’s altogether tense, giddy.
He reaches for her legs. Something eases up her thigh, which elicits a gasp.
She does as she’s told.
She marvels at the leg, stomps a heel, testing its heft.
It looks exactly like the one she lost.
But that’s an omission on her part.
It looks exactly like the one he took.