Concentration

This was my entry into this week’s “5 Minute Fiction” Challenge, run (for 19 weeks so far), by Leah Patersen. I didn’t make the downselect, but it was fun, and a wee bit sexy. Pantsless lapsitting usually is. –M

“What?! What are you doing? I’m trying to work here!” I was on a deadline.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m sitting in your lap.” Jamie is a literalist.

“Off! Shoo! Begone! I’m on a deadline.”

“So? I can’t help? What are you working on?”

“Nothing you’d care about. Some quick writing. I only have five minutes for Chrissakes and… Where are your pants?”

“I didn’t think I needed any to be on your lap. At least that’s what you said yester-”

Fine, fine. Just sit still. Let me think. Let me write.”

“But… your lap is all lumpy. It makes me squirm.”

“You are fucking ruining my concentration, Jamie.”

“Oh, Boo-hoo. Here. I can help. I think you’ve done enough. I’ll just hit the submit button for you and you can concentrate on me.”

“No! DON’T! Not Ye

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