Prompt: Ambiguity

‘Another thing, Mr. Saxon, I would suggest a little less ambiguity on the topic of your time at Cambridge.’

‘Oh?’ Harold Saxon raised a pointedly polite eyebrow, cocking his head at the section of text Lucy was indicating with one red-nailed finger. She smiled, easily playing along.

‘People love a school story, Mr. Saxon. Adolescent cleverness, a spot of buggery behind the library, all the classic nonsense.’

( Saxon looked at her in barely concealed amusement. 'And what happens if I didn't actually engage in any recreational buggery during my time at university?' )

Character: Lucy Saxon
Word Count: 320

Grinning hugely, Lucy snapped her laptop shut, letting herself fall back on the pillows of the couch, laughing giddily. There was no-one else in the flat, after all, so why not? A moment passed, and then she pushed herself up, spinning over to where her mp3 player sat sleek and black in its base- highest quality speakers on the market, those. Lucy liked her music, after all. Flicking through her playlists pensively, she finally settled on what she wanted, and a moment later, the guitar of Modest Mouse’s ‘Dashboard’ started up, a steady groove with the blare of brass behind it.

Hips and shoulders moving in time to the beat, she made her way over to the kitchen, sliding across the polished wood floors in her stocking feet. Lemon cakes and tea it was! Getting ingredients out, she sang softly along with the music, smirking at nothing in particular. Harry. Her Harry, and like the oh so perfect wife she was, she’d welcome him home with cake and tea.

Not, of course, that she hadn’t considered what they might do after the tea. A proper shag went without saying, of course, but after that as well. Perhaps they’d go dancing; Harry had always loved dancing, and the sight of the two of them together, young and beautiful, always attracted attention of the best sorts. But mostly, she just itched to feel him cool and solid against her, to hold him, to kiss him and feel the quadruple beat of his drums in the back of her head. Ohhh, yes. Just to know he was there- her husband.

After fifteen minutes or so, the oven pinged politely, announcing that it was finished preheating, and Lucy slid over, still singing to herself. She didn’t know when Harry would be here, after all, but best to have things ready for him when he arrived.

Lucy's mouth aches from holding back her smiles as she leans on the doorjamb to the sitting room, watching Harry fiddle with the back of the television set with something that certainly wouldn't be found in an ordinary toolkit.  He's so absorbed in what he's doing that he doesn't seem to notice her at all, and despite the news she has to impart, Lucy can't bring herself to interrupt him for several long moments.  Finally, though, she does speak, and her voice quivers, just a little bit.

'Harry, darling?'