“Would you like to see my collection of antique typewriters?” Carl asked the woman sitting next to him at the bar.
She smiled at him, giving her head a toss, her long, thick, reddish-brown tresses swirling, “Sure,” she said. “I’ve always fancied antique typewriters. My name is Rachel.”
“Hi, Rachel, I’m Carl.” He got the bartender’s attention and closed out both tabs. He stood up, offered Rachel his hand, which she accepted, and led her out of the pub.
“Can I get you anything?” Carl asked when they got to his place.
“No,” she said, “just show me your typewriters.”
When she saw his collection, she pointed at one typewriter and asked him to take it off the shelf. He placed it on the table and she began sensually fondling the keys. She started groaning and in a few moments had orgasm.
“Yes,” Carl said. “You certainly do fancy antique typewriters.”
Written for Sammi Cox’s Weekend Writing Prompt, where the word is “typewriter.” The post must be exactly 149 words. No more. No less.