This is an entry for the BlogFest creative writing competition.
"We were going out for dinner," Janey murmurs, sidetracked.
She sighs. The gray silk dress whispers as it slithers down her body, settling perfectly to her curves. She shuts her eyes.
She can sense his cool strong hand on her shoulder, thumb rolling over the strap, and back, a little rub of delicious heat. His brown eyes watching her, looking for the spark he’s lighting.
The skirt of the dress flows around her legs, like breath on her skin. She sways in front of the mirror, dance music swinging from her memory. The chill fabric fluid against her skin except, she thinks, where he holds her. Tightly.
She turns, peering back over her shoulder. Flirting, the game has begun. “Oh, no. Not here,” and she whisks away from him. Just out of reach. But the door of the changing room stops her, dead plastic in her way.
Back to her reflection, tiptoed on fantasy sandals. The sock marks of reality not even beginning to fade.
She knows would reach for him, stretching to nuzzle where his collar meets his sunbrowned neck. The smell delicious.
There’s a knock at the door and he retreats from reach. “Who is it?”
“It's me.”
“Oh,” He’s here... Her small son. “Mummy where is Teddy? I can’t find him anywhere.”
She digs under her discarded jeans and t-shirt. “Hold on.”
The whimsy whisper of silk is quickly dragged over her head and puddles on the floor.
Janey hauls her workaday cotton back on. And there, under her socks, is Teddy. She hands the yellow teddy over.
“Come on, love.” His sticky hot hand holds hers. Teddy tucked under his arm they leave the changing room.
“Any good?” asks the disinterested assistant.
“No. It’s not for me.” The dress swishes to a halt on the returns rail, ready for the next woman.
"We were going out for dinner, weren't we son? How about McDonald's?"