Late to the Ball, by Jo Oldani Osborne

Alexy wiped down the bar waiting for dark. He was surprised when the pale beauty in white swirled in with a flourish. She had startled him as much as the last rays of sunlight.

He was enchanted.

It hurt.

“Ahm, a bit parched,” Sweet Sherry whispered huskily as she viewed the Blood Bank menu.

“A tasting — You ‘vish?” Alexy stuttered as he awkwardly set out the warming snifters. “Dis! ‘Vee have a ’72 Italian –“

Sherry took his pale hand raising it to her red lips,

“No, Lover — “ she said. He felt the thrall.

“You’re more my type.”

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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