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Weekly Contest #367
I leave the pink candy floss skies of the high street and step into the darkness of the stairwell. The heavy fire door groans behind me and the steps leading down to the club are slightly sticky. A beaded doorway greets me. The shredded image of a woman is printed across it. It almost feels wrong to swipe her aside as I enter. An elderly man looks up from a mahogany desk, tired eyes over silver frames. ‘Welcome. Do you have an invite?’I slide the invitation across the counter, hoping he doesn’t notice my quivering hands. He looks t...
Weekly Contest #347
He is already at the booth. His fleshy, speckled hand reaches for my waist and I force myself to melt against his body. His tobacco breath mingles with my Chanel No. 5. Any illusion that we are a grandfather and granddaughter has now likely vanished. I order the most expensive cocktail on the menu and he orders a glass of French Malbec. ‘How was Brighton?’ He asks.‘It was beautiful. I haven’t seen the sea in such a long time,’ I reply wistfully, knowing that he does not care.‘My mother used to take me to Brighton when I was a child,’ he smil...
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