The next morning:
“She told ya about our meeting, eh? ” he asked, picking up the dictaphone which she’d absent mindedly left on the couch. She’d spent the night there and was just rolling off the couch sleepily to make him a hangover cure. “Gimme that! ” Ina exclaimed, grabbing at her precious dictaphone, but he held it outta her reach. She’d secretly recorded their conversation when Mrs. Fletcher had been lost in the story. He motioned to her to sit back down. “She left out a few things.” he muttered, before continuing where she’d left off:
Then, I caressed her hair and she dug her nails into my back, before pulling my jacket off and tossing it onto a sand dune. We made our way to her hotel room where we spent the night. The next thing I remember was me smoking a fag as I usually did after a night o’ passionate lovemakin, an’ er knockin it outta my mouth with a flick o’ er fingers, remarkin- “That’s a disgustin habit! ”  Then, she was gone. We went our separate ways. I continued on my tour, while she jetted off around the world with im– before we ended up together in Scotland. He finished, with a grin, obviously proud of the memory, as Ina listened intently. “She’s got a nasty habit o’ o’er-sharing. I guess I do too! ” he remarked, before pressing the erase button on the dictaphone, to Ina’s horror! “This stuff’s personal. Can’t trust anyone with it. Now, put it outta yer mind an’ bring me my coffee, lass! ” he ordered growlingly, before tossing the device aside.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s