Welcome to Flash Fiction Friday courtesy of supplicium post mortem. Come write a 250-word story (erotic? tgi oriented?). Start any time Friday, finish by 6pm PDT Saturday. Post the link to your story in the comments here or on Twitter. Try to include the wildcards.

• flautist
• macaroini
• black clouds
  

Spread the word, and have fun!

She could hear it inbetween the gusts of angry wind outside. The faint sound of the melodic flute. The flautist was a regular fixture in the town square every Saturday morning. She sat in the small attic at a ratty desk overlooking the town square through a dusty cobwebbed window. A plate of cold, half eaten macaroni sat beside her. She had sat there all morning with a head of black clouds, writing . Words just would not come so she sat there gazing out the window instead looking for some respite from her lack of creativity.

It was then she saw him. Standing there in the shadows, watching. Surely he couldn’t see her from here? Every Saturday this man, this dark mysterious man would appear around 10am. Stand and watch the flautist play. She in turn would watch him through the cobwebbed window. This morning was no different than any other Saturday except for the piercing gaze directed right at her, through that dank, dark little window. She gasped.How long had he known she was there watching?

The voyeristic side in her liked the idea of not being seen. The ability to watch, discover and breathe people in. Her gaze locked on his, not faltering for a moment she smiled. He smiled back and his lips began to move in silence.

She watched intently as she saw the words form, “I see you too” and with that, a smirk appears in the corner of his mouth, followed by a wink.

She blushes, smiles back, the heat in her crotch apparent and picks up her pen and begins writing a fantasy…