Wednesday, February 27, 2019


“A baking pan?”

“A brownie pan. And brownie mix.”

Sunday, January 18, 2015

“There isn't one in the kitchen of your hotel suite?”

In back row of the empty movie theater, Antonio pulled his purchase out of a crinkling paper sack and held it out for Noa. “It's an all-edge pan. And bonus, the top part looks like an S, for Sasha.”

Noa squinted at the gift in the dark. “I don't want to get my fingerprints on it.”

“You think she'll have it dusted?” Antonio returned the pan to its bag. “Where did you tell Morrow you were going?”

“To a movie.”

“Honesty. A novel concept.”

“I never lie to Morrow. It makes my life easier.” Noa pushed back the armrest and reached for Antonio’s hand. “Where would you like touch?”

He intertwined his fingers with hers. “Anywhere you let me.” 

As Noa felt his right palm glide along her belt, under her shirt, and across her hips, a siren blared in her pocket.

Antonio jumped back. “Did I trigger an alarm?”

Noa switched off the alert. “We have thirty minutes left.”

“The previews haven’t even started.”

“How long has your wife been alone in your bed, wondering where you are?”

Sobered, Antonio set the timer on his phone. “That was ‘thirty minutes’, correct?”


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