Small Stains of Fire
by Mitzi McMahon
"Hand me some toilet paper, will you?"
Emma looks down to her left and sees most of a hand extending into her stall, its fingers wiggling impatiently. "Sure." She pulls a long strip from the roll, gathers it into soft loops and drops it into the waiting hand.
"Thanks."
Emma emerges from the bank of pale peach compartments, each stall bigger than their two bathrooms combined at home. She's been gone from the table a while and the idea of that's-the-dessert-fork Paulette coming to check on her convinces her to stop dawdling. Her husband had been right about one thing: the restaurant is classy. But his business associates are dull, their wives pompous.
Emma stands in front of the elegant full-length mirror, the gentle light from the wall sconces enveloping her. Her arms strain backward a she tries to reach the button she'd somehow missed earlier. She feels the hand on her bare shoulder at the same moment she hears the voice.
"Let me help you with that."
Startled, Emma freezes. Arms raised, tongue peeking out and curled over her bottom lip, Emma watches in the mirror as the stranger's long fingers slip from her shoulder to secure the stray button. The woman then slowly slides both hands down Emma's back-one at her side, the other lightly tracing the row of fabric-covered buttons to where they end at the small indentation just above her tailbone.
Inching her eyes upward, Emma finds the woman's indigo blue gaze waiting. Her look penetrates. The air, swollen with possibilities, feels electric against Emma's sun-kissed skin. The need for a breath registers and she inhales. The woman's warm, earthy scent fills her.
The stranger steps away and Emma lowers her arms. Small stains of fire burn where the woman's fingers had been. At the door, the woman turns and faces Emma. "Pretty dress for a pretty girl."
Emma stares after the closed door. The clunk of boots against ceramic tile reverberates around her, through her, and her cheeks flush with warmth.
More About Mitzi McMahon:
Born in the south, Mitzi McMahon now lives one mile, as the
crow flies, from Lake Michigan in Racine, Wisconsin, a city
famous for its Danish kringle. She keeps house with her
husband, three kids and a golden retriever named Apollo. Her
work has appeared in Song of the Siren, Doorknobs & BodyPaint,
and Muse Apprentice Guild.
You can email Mitzi at mitzimcmahon@ameritech.net
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