Latest Flash

The Drop

A reasonable expectation of privacy. I don't think that's too much to ask. 

Especially if you're a pair of panties.

The Drop by Tess Makovesky

I'm on the high street when the woman drops her mobile phone.  Small black box on a hard paving slab, but it doesn't break, and the Red Sea of shoppers' legs parts to where she walks.  A skinny thing in black trousers and a padded top, hardly enough to get a handful of, but I'm not one to turn the opportunity down. 

I've done this before.  Women get careless, lose sight of their handbags, spill their cash or phones.  And I'm the Good Samaritan, always on hand to help.  I follow them and hand their goodies back.  They're always grateful enough to give me my reward.  A hand between their legs, a quick squeeze of boobs.  Most don't even protest.

She's getting faster, heels rat-tatting as she runs.  I hurry after her, not wanting to lose her amongst the crowds.  She glances back; I grin.  The chase is half the fun.  Watching them watching me, watching them getting scared.  I gain on her past Marks and Sparks.  There's alleyways round the back, nice and dark, where I can say hello.

Oddly, she's had the same thought.  She's waiting for me, panting, wallet in her hand.  Probably thinks I'm going to mug her, I think, and laugh. 

"You dropped this, luv."  I sidle in for a feel.

"I know," she says, and oh crap, I see it isn't a wallet after all.  "We've been watching you.  You're under arrest!"

Liverpool lass Tess is now settled in the far north of England where she roams the fells with a brolly, dreaming up new stories and startling the occasional sheep. Her gritty stories, however, tend to reflect the dark and dingy back streets of her former home of Birmingham. You can follow her ramblings at