Trashed. It wasn't when they got there; it was when they left.
"Bit nice in here, innit?" Caz said as they stumbled in, Sid fumbling her clothes. They were all over each other, lips and zips, trousers down, skirt up.
Dishevelled and rezipped but lusting for something more, they spotted the sign when they were done: "In the interest of hygiene and as a courtesy to others, please leave this washroom as clean and tidy as you would wish to find it."
How would they wish to find it? Caz smiled at Sid; Sid smiled at Caz. They weren't done.
"Bit nice in here, innit?" Caz said as they stumbled in, Sid fumbling her clothes. They were all over each other, lips and zips, trousers down, skirt up.
Dishevelled and rezipped but lusting for something more, they spotted the sign when they were done: "In the interest of hygiene and as a courtesy to others, please leave this washroom as clean and tidy as you would wish to find it."
How would they wish to find it? Caz smiled at Sid; Sid smiled at Caz. They weren't done.
"Trashed" first appeared as in one of National Flash-Fiction Day's Flash Floods. More background here.
1 comment:
The images that come from the ending, makes me wonder how mischievous they can be.
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