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Hot and Heavy

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She was mesmerized by the ring, the way it pinched in so tightly, creating an hourglass from the CFO's bloated sausage finger. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose, but she kept up the rhythmic pumping, pausing only to take a quick swipe at the curl pasted to her cheek.

Pathetic, she thought, taking in the enormous island of a torso that she straddled, his white belly rippling with every thrust. She could not look at his face while she worked.

He never said a word, only grunted once in the end. But she hadn't finished; she would not give up.

The siren wailed as the ambulance raced toward Mercy Hospital, and the last rich waves of life charged through the executive's corpulent body. Finally, she dismounted, a dark butterfly of moisture spreading across the pants of her creased navy uniform, damp from where their bodies had touched.

Notes from the Author
Hot and Heavy was one of those rare stories that just appeared—poof!—on the page after I saw a man whose wedding ring pinched so tightly, I could not imagine how he would ever get it off. Or on.

First appeared in The Binnacle, 2005
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