May 10th, 2013 by Theresa

Suzanne forced herself to take in her new client.  It was the way he eyed her .  She was a prime rib dinner; he, a starving man.  Suzanne shuddered as he licked his lips.  She wasn’t sure if was pleasure or revulsion.

“Daniel Baker,” she began.  “As your attorney I will defend you to the best of my ability.  However, you’ve got to tell me if you’re truly guilty this time.”

“Ms. Delta, may I call you Suzanne?  Would you like to have breakfast with me?”

“It’s four in the afternoon.”

“So? I’m sure we can occupy ourselves until sunrise.”

“Mr. Baker, please,” Suzanne hissed.  “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”  Suzanne’s eyes looked to his.  He licked his lips again and leaned forward.  He reached out a hand, cuffs jingling, to trace a finger along her arm.  “I make a great omelette.”

Suzanne moved her hand away a few seconds too late.  He knew that she fell for his charm.  “Fine,” she said slowly.  “Then tell me the truth. Did you do it?  Have you either this time or ever in the past stolen money?”

“Not even once,” he replied with a sly smile.

“Can you prove it?”

“Yup.”

“Then why have you been arrested and charged thirteen times?”

“I’ve been trying to get you as my lawyer.  Know how hard it is to find your number?”

Suzanne snorted.  “Fine. You give me unshakeable proof?   I’ll not only get you off the hook but I’ll bring the orange juice.”

”Deal.”

As seen on Thursday Threads with Siobahn Muir

Crime, Flash Fiction, writing

May 2nd, 2013 by Theresa

Only a few women in the Sagittarii, the most elite horse archers of the kingdom, looked at him with a measure of respect. He was the only man to make it this far in the trials. He reset the strap of his quiver a few times and stroked his horse’s mane.

“Berit? This way please? You can mount when you get to gate.”  Mylam, the captain spoke softly, her voice carried far.  Berit followed his instructions carefully.  At the designated stall, he got in the saddle and waited patiently. The captain herself walked up to him, new bow in hand.

She didn’t smile as she handed up the bow. “You do know how to do this, right? You know, aim and shoot?” Her voice carried farther now, as if she spoke for all to hear. Berit looked down at her face. His keen eyes detected that something was amiss. Was it a set up?

He raised a brow slowly.  Mylam rolled her eyes.

Definitely a set up.  Berit let a half smile flash for a moment. This was his time to shine. “Aim,” he said loudly, “like this.” Laughter broke out as he purposely fouled his grip.  He looked back to Mylam to see her grin.  He was ready as she stood back and slapped the horse’s rump.

He took the course in a blur, arrows hitting their targets. As his horse slowed and walked back to the gate, silence greeted him.

“You’re in the third flank. Don’t get killed,” Mylam said.

Fantasy, Flash Fiction, writing