Short Stories to Entertain

“Come on, let’s go.” She said standing up. Unconcerned her low-cut top was undone to her navel, blue silky bra and white flesh hanging out. Her warm, soft hand small in his great big mitt, the slight squeeze encouraging, the sudden determined tug betraying an overpowering need. Kissing, proper kissing. They had been kissing and fondling in the dark corner. Behind the door. Chaos all around. Hectic. The noise. The thumping base- up beat . The toxic smell of enjoyment. 

The late evening news that day had said about a man being shot six times. All in the chest. All by machine gun fire. A tall man about sixty maybe, with dark hair and a moustache and rich. He was extremely rich, that was obvious. The house was one of those right up there swanky places. His cleaner had found him slumped over on the sofa in his sitting room. White shirt a mess as you can imagine. Reading glasses broken. Tall wine glass spilled. Did she scream? No one really knew but you would think so, wouldn’t you? With the blood and all and two dead eyes staring right up at her as she walked into the room. The vacant wide sort. Kind of stuck open.             No signs of entry so the police said. Everything was locked. Front door security chain on. No windows broken. They were stumped; the police were. Was he on his own? That was a question they asked themselves and the cleaner of course. She didn’t know. How would she? She was not there until...