I awoke in a sweat. The cheap hotel’s AC was bust.
What was the time?
I got up and went towards the window.
The Marriott opposite was caught in the hot afternoon sun.
It was almost time.
9 minutes more.
I’d intercepted K’s coded message. It was all part of the job description.
“Room 633. 15h30. Alone.”
I focused the binoculars, in case.
K was already there. Statuesque. Stark naked!
A large sheet of paper hid her breasts.
I refocused hurriedly.
“Get your ass here immediately, the champagne’s getting warm and I’m getting less passionate by the minute.
This weeks Friday Fictioneers photo prompt is the featured image of this post. Thanks again to Rochelle Wisoff-Field who despite being eggceptionally busy this week, has provided us with an excellent opportunity to write a short piece of fiction – in no more than 100 words. The prompt is © Marie Gail Stratford.