Prompt # 1 (A work in progress By Samantha Davis)

Catching the signal from one of her friends, Angela brushed down her skirt, took a deep breath, and walked over to where he was sitting. “Hello,” she offered, bending forward and smiling hopefully. He looked up and exhaled roughly, rolling his eyes. “Whaddya want, sweetheart,” he asked, with an air of sarcasm about his lips. Angela’s eyes looked irritated, but she continued on. “I’m An-” she stopped herself, her breath lodged in her throat, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth, unable to move. “Okay,” he answered, not offering his name in return. She nodded and tried to look natural. He looked chary. Then again, she didn’t even give him her full name. He had obviously noticed. She couldn’t sweat his reaction, though; she had to keep moving forward. “Anyway,” Angela continued, smoothing down her skirt and sitting next to him, “I have something for you.” His expression didn’t change as she leaned towards him, her breath hot on his ear. Her proximity prompted him to speak.

“Look.” He paused. “Ann.” Her gaze remained transfixed on his face. “If you’re trying to flirt with me, then here – you’re pretty. Now go away, dammit.” Angela started to grin. She had caught him in a weak spot. She was ready to play. “Here. Take it or leave it. Just don’t let anyone see you leave with it.” He looked down to examine her hand, closed in a fist. His curiosity was getting the better of him. He hadn’t had any excitement in years (for good reason) and he was being urged to take a mystery item from a mystery woman who definitely wasn’t named Ann. The cons outweighed the pros here. He decided to feign disinterest, a decision the rest of him strongly disagreed with. “Whatever,” he mouthed, yawning, as she slowly slipped whatever it was into his pocket, allowing her fingers to expand on the way back up his thigh. He went silent and watched her. She stood up, turned her head slightly over her shoulder, and winked at him. Then she left, her sassy catwalk blurring into the image of the crowd in front of him.

He considered taking the object out of his pocket in the bar, testing her. Why would it matter if someone saw him holding it? It couldn’t be anything dangerous; it obviously was a tiny, tiny thing.

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