by Doug Wacker
Venton could feel it again, that light pressure on the top of his left knee. He was sure it was a mistake the first time, but now he didn’t know what to think at all. He looked at his wife, Mary, and smiled, then slowly twisted his head, carefully making sure everyone was consumed with their own conversations, until his eyes fell on the young woman seated to his left. Valarie Jones, his boss’s nineteen year old daughter, was in a heated conversation with her father about whether majoring in art history was a waste of time or not. Her hair, reddish brown, long, and thin, was cut just above her shoulders, in such a way that the ends curled up from her pale neck. Then, as quickly as it had come, the pressure was gone again, and Venton sat uncomfortably as the Jones’s maid took away his half-eaten bowl of cold tomato soup.
Doug Wacker, an avid member of The Drinklings, is an adjunct professor in the Biology Department at Seattle University. He lives with his lovely wife Kim, and two persnickety cats, Luna and Nimbus. He is currently working on his yet-unnamed debut novel about paternal betrayal, hyperborean self-exile, and the lives of three brothers.