Clack clack clackity clack... The staccato of her steps eerily echoed around the empty foyer as Claire nervously glanced over her shoulder. So far so good, no-one appeared to halt her purposeful progression to the door.
"Going somewhere?" She freezes like a rabbit in the high beam of a hunting ute. God no. She was so close to escape.
"This? Oh, I'm just taking some of last season's purchases down to the consignment shop. It was your idea, remember?"
"You mean my cutting up your credit cards, and closing your accounts with the designer stores? Or the fact that I had the audacity to suggest you might like to look for employment?"
"Oh George, darling. I know you really didn't mean it, you were just angry with me for my silly splurge." Claire prettily pouted and leant forward to lightly run her peach pink fingernails through the tantalising tuft of chest hair peeking above his unbuttoned shirt. "And I thought we made up last night?" She allowed a becoming blush to shade her already heated cheeks. Pink was so her colour.
The pitiful yelp spoilt the effort as George tightly encased her hand halting movement. He pulled her close, enfolding her against his chest as with other arm he seized the suitcase she held within her grasp.
As he pinned her to him, he deftly opened the clasp on the luggage. Out tumbled the bright array of her new purchases, incriminating tags flashing the immeasurable cost of her addiction. The evidence of her lies flowed across the foyer floor like silken traitors. Claire cautiously raised her sullen gaze to George. Meeting his look of dismayed disgust she knew she had gambled and had lost.