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Devine Tragedy – Part III

24 Saturday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, romance, teenagers

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Fiction, young-adult

“What are we going to do?” Becca asked her friend Chloe. Desperation in her voice.

“We are going to do absolutely nothing and act like nothing whatever has happened.” Chloe left off looking for the pen and slammed the locker door roughly. Becca jumped. “Just like nothing happened.” Chloe stuck her chin in the air. “We need to get to class.”

“Okay,” Becca gulped and turned to follow her friend down the hall.

That afternoon, Becca and Chloe were in Lit class. Greg was there. Jennifer was sitting next to him, as close as Ms. Himes would allow. She flashed a smile at Chloe that was brilliant and dazzling white.

Looks like a toothpaste commercial, Chloe thought grimly to herself. Class started and she had to fight to keep her concentration on the subject of the day, John Dunne, and force herself to not keep looking at Jenn and Greg.

An agonizing fifty minutes later, Chloe had her bag packed, on her shoulders and was the first one out the door. Becca rushed to keep up with her.

“Oh, Chloe, Becca,” a feminine voice rang out. Chloe tried to ignore it but Becca tugged at the back of her sleeve.

Slowly, the teen turned around. Jennifer was behind her in the hall with one small hand delicately placed on Greg’s arm. Her eyelash extensions made her blue eyes look even bigger than usual. Greg was busy looking at the ceiling.

“My parents and I will be having a little get together after the Winter prom. I am so hoping you,” her eyes slid over to Becca and she smiled, “and your date will be able to make it. You know the address.” She smirked, tugged on Greg’s sleeve. Her long pink acrylic nails sparkled with tiny jewels. The little hand now had a firm grip on Greg’s upper arm. As they moved down the hall, the pom-pom tassles of her Ugg boots bouncing as she walked. Her black skinny jeans fitting her form perfectly.

Chloe’s vision stared to blur; she felt her hands forming into fists. She was grinding her teeth.

“We should go, sweetie, people are staring at you.” Becca touched a delicate finger to Chloe’s arm.

Chloe yanked away and walked stiffly back to her locker.

Two days later, Chloe was in her room trying to get her homework done. It was difficult because she kept slipping into daydreams about charting a boat and sailing away … her phone rang. She usually ignored it during homework sessions but it was Becca so she picked up.

“Becca.”

“Chloe, are you alone?” Becca whispered into the phone.

“Yes, of course, I’m in my room. What?”

“Um, I have some bad news.”

“Bad news? Becca, the girl I hate most in the entire school is going to the Winter prom with the guy I have been in love with since the 5th grade and you say it gets worse?’

“Well, I don’t know. I think it’s better you hear it from me rather than …”

“Christ. Just go ahead and tell me already!”

“She got a car, a new car.”

“Who got a new car?”

“Jennifer, Jenn got a new car. And …”

“And what? Quit dragging it out.”

“It’s one of those cars; you know that looks like a shoe. That kind. I saw it when I was out shopping with my mom. “

“Okay, so …”

“Chloe … it has a custom paint job. Custom. Pink with brown stripes and little yellow flowers over the brown stripes. It’s really cute …”

“Shit …”

“And … one more thing …” Becca was breathless.

“What!”

“Her new besty friend, you know, that new girl with the red hair and tattoos. Kiki or something. She got a matching car. Same type, same custom paint, different colors.” Becca stopped talking. There was a long silence.

Chloe felt like banging her head against the desk and never stopping.

“Chloe? You okay. I just … ”

“Becca, I’m fine. Thanks for telling me. You are absolutely right. Better from you than someone else. But, I got to go now. Homework, you know.”

“Oh, right, right. Well, um, see you in school tomorrow?”

“Sure thing. We got a swim team race tomorrow after school. ‘Member?” Chloe let out a short hallow laugh.

“Oh, God! We do. I better get to bed early then. Okay, love you lots. Tomorrow.”

“Love you too, Becca.” Carefully, Chloe hit the end button on her phone and put it down. She stared into space. She felt numb.

The next day went by in a blur for Chloe. At lunchtime, she was aware of Jennifer sitting next to Greg and preening him constantly. Her friend Kiki was there and a swarm of young men from various grades kept trying to find room at the table.

Kiki had shown up a few weeks late in the term. She was thin, a little taller than Jenn, with dark red hair cut in a severe asymmetrical style. Half of her head was shaved to the scalp with tiny braids woven tightly at the top before the straight red hair flowed down in a sharp angle. She had tattoos all up one side of an arm and various piercings around her body. Her shirt was low cut and her jeans were torn. She had a pretty, elfin face with small, white teeth, which she flashed often at the boys. They in turn, were gaga over her.

Kiki reminded Chloe of an Anime drawing. The Evil Elf, she thought to herself.

Several of the regulars at their table could not resist the siren song and they too began to drift that way during lunch.

Chloe ate with her head down. Becca ate nervously; alternating between gawking at Jenn and company and glancing at her friend.

“How did her parents ever let her get those tattoos? I thought you had to be eighteen or something,” Becca asked the air not expecting a response.

“San Francisco or Mexico, I expect,” Chloe answered. “Ah, who cares? You done with lunch?”

Becca stole one last glance across the cafeteria and then stuffed the rest of her sandwich in her face. Becca, slightly stocky of build, was a stress eater.

“Sure, coming,” she grabbed her bag and her Diet Coke. Becca found trying to converse with her friend these days increasing difficult.

Later that afternoon, Becca and Chloe suited up and were by the pool waiting for roll call. The guys came out of the locker room together. Chloe turned her back to them so she was looking across the gym.

“Wish me luck, Becca,” a male voice said behind her. Chloe did not turn around.

“Oh, right.” Becca replied nervously. “Good luck, Greg. Is this a tournament day for you guys, too?”

“Yep, it is. And good luck to you on all your races. Even to Miss Chloe.”

Chloe stopped breathing a moment.

“See you, Becca.”

“Right, see you, Greg.”

“Well, what do you think about that? Oh, oh. Oh, no!” Becca exclaimed.

Chloe turned. “What, oh no? What are you talking about?”

“She’s here,” Becca whispered.

“Who?” Chloe had an angry look on her face and looked around the stadium. Then, her heart sank. Three rows up sat Jennifer with two of her friends. They were holding some kind of glitter pom-poms and waving them at the guys.

“Jesus F. Christ, what next?” Chloe turned away.

“Better not let coach hear you talk like that, Chlo. You know how he is.”

Chloe pulled her swim cap down, stalked over to the diving block, and stared hard down into the water.

“Chloe Devine!” she heard her name read.

“Here, coach!” she shouted back.

“Okay, girls, you know the drill. We have been over this a bunch of times. Do your best and try to top your last speed.”

Chloe shook out her arms and legs. All the girls got up on the blocks. The coach blew his whistle. Chloe dived smoothly into the pool.

The water was cool and comforting as always. The pool was deep and a light blue color. Multi-colored flags flew overhead. People started yelling. Chloe swung her arms forward and kicked like the devil himself was behind. She struck the water again and again. Vicious blows. She was hitting Jennifer, she was hitting Greg, she was …. hitting herself. She got to the end of the lane; did her underwater turn and plowed back. Two more laps. The cheering got louder. She pounded the water; all she could think of now was the finish line. Got to get … she hit the wall and stopped.

Standing up suddenly she heard cheering. The coach was leaning over her.

“Chloe, you won; 1:05 minutes for 100 meter freestyle. That’s Olympic quality! I just can’t believe it. I knew you had in it you.” The old guy was smiling like he hit the jackpot. Chloe smiled dazely.

Chloe’s mom and dad had showed up to the race at the last minute and got to see her time posted on the big board.

“Oh, Chloe that was wonderful. Good for you!” her mother was holding out a big dry towel for her and her dad was looking proud.

“Thanks, Mom. We have to do a few more races and then we will be done. You guys want to wait?”

“Of course we do, Hun. Why wouldn’t we?” Mrs. Devine glanced nervously at her husband. Chloe’s younger brother hung back from his parents looking bored.

“Oh, nothing. Okay, it should be another 45 minutes.”

“We’ll be on the bleachers, Hun.”

Chloe dried off as much as possible and wrapped in the big towel, waited her turn for the next round. Her next time was good but still didn’t quite match the first round. Maybe I’m not quite as angry, she thought to herself and grinned.

The family went out to the local coffee shop for an early dinner.

Chloe ate like a starving man and her parents both stared at her.

“Hungry, squirt?” her dad asked carefully.

“Always starving after a meet,” she responded.

Her dad nodded sagely and sipped his coffee. He glanced at his wife and she rolled her eyes a little.

On the way home, they all sang some dumb songs and Chloe felt happier than she had done in weeks. That night she fell into a deep sleep and didn’t move until her alarm went off the next morning.

Continued in part IV

Devine Tragedy – Part II

23 Friday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, Fiction, romance, teenagers

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young-adult

After practice, Becca and Chloe usually rode their bikes home. But the weather was starting to get a little chilly and Becca’s dad brought the SUV around to pick up his daughter and her bike.

“Lift?” he asked Chloe.

“No thanks, Mr. Thompson, it’s just a few blocks and I’d rather ride today.”

“Okay, kid. Keep us in mind, weather turns ugly.”

“I will, sir, count on it.”

Thompson did a little salute, climbed up into the SUV cab and pulled away.

Chloe wanted some down time to think. Think without someone getting worried that she was depressed. She stuffed everything into her enormous backpack, shouldered the entire load and headed off home. It was early October and it was getting dark earlier. She would probably have to take Becca up on her offer of a ride soon.

As she rode home, she couldn’t stop thinking about Greg and the skinny kid he had been when her family moved to this neighborhood. At that time, the two of them were about the same height and equally boney.

Who knew the guy would sprout up into the 6’1” monster he was today?. Of course, she was taller too, about 5’7” or 5’8” at last measure. However, while Greg had seemed to erupt into muscular shoulders and back, Chloe was still on the thin side with sharp elbows. Her long arms and big hands were excellent for swimming and eating up the yards, however, out of the water, she often found herself sitting on her hands to hide them. Both her hand and feet made her feel awkward. Her nemesis, Jennifer was much shorter, rounder, prettier too with big boobs and natural blonde curls a la Shirley Temple.

Choe was thinking about the resemblance. Damn it, she even has the dimple!

Most of the boys in the senior class became transfixed when Jennifer floated by and were struck dumb in her presence.

How can I compete with that? Chloe thought viciously to herself. I mean, other than have a boob job or buy falsies.

The girl almost wept. She and Greg had been friends in many classes through the years. In fifth grade, he sat behind her and made her giggle all year long with his fast quips about their 5th grade teacher. A stand-up comedy wanna-be.

“Hey, dude. I hear Jay Leno is auditioning for a backup. Shall I get him your number?” he whispered in her ear. She stifled a giggle.

She also remembered the time that Jennifer Miller, as she was back then, did a spectacular fail on a big English exam. Chloe could remember Mrs. Miller coming to school to pick up her daughter, her face bright with anger.

“All the best men are at all the best school. The best men make the best husbands. You need to get into one of those schools. You will keep your grades up!” she hissed.  With that, the woman jerked a plump and red-faced Jennifer to the parking lot.

Well, she isn’t plump anymore, Chloe thought wryly to herself.

But things had been good between herself and Greg for a long time; sitting with her group at lunch, walking with her to class. Then, slowly things began to change. They both ended up at New H high school and on swim teams. However, when Greg got into water polo, his parents began to send him away for summer camp training. There was even talk about a possible scholarship to the U. Each time Greg got back from a camp, he seemed a little taller, a little bit bigger and … ever more slightly distant.

It wasn’t that Chloe was a complete geek or anything, but she was not, she clearly knew, one of the really cool kids at school. Her mom was an insurance underwriter and her dad; a contractor who had been out of work a lot this year due to the pandemic. Money was a trifle tight at home. Between herself and her younger brother, Sam, what they had needed to go a long way. They still had their ranch-style house of course, and it was in a nice neighborhood. But, Chloe still didn’t have her own car and there was no plan in sight for getting one.

The summer before senior year, Greg’s dad bought him a small, red convertible coupe. It was a BMW. When the kid got that car, things really took a shift.

“It’s the smallest BMW made,” Greg had explained when Chloe complimented him on the car. The boy looked down and nearly shuffled his feet. Finally, he looked up and seemed to gather himself together. “But, yeah, it is nice.” He grinned, his blue eyes glowing.

Chloe felt her heart melt. The no-car thing hurt like never before. She plastered a smile on her face, then, continued on to class, clutching her books in front of her like a protective shield.

She could hear Jennifer and her posse surround Greg; oohing and ahhing all over him, going on about the car.

                                                                                      #

Chloe was about to turn into her street, when she heard the blast of a car horn and jerked right. A car zoomed by and the driver made an ugly hand signal. She had been concentrating so hard on the Greg situation; she had not even noticed the car approaching rapidly from the rear.

She dropped a foot to the street and had to breathe. Her heart was racing as she realized the near miss. She leaned her bike against the curb. Looking around, she realized she was at the small park down the street from where she lived. Lugging her bike and bag over the curb, she went a few feet and plopped down on a cement bench. The bench was cold on her legs. It actually felt good. Helped her to focus.

It wasn’t that Greg was ignoring her deliberately all the time or anything, she had to be honest and admit that. It was more … she gazed around the park. There were large trees gradually loosing leaves. Huge moist yellow leaves lay on the short, cropped grass. The bushes, as always, were trimmed to within an inch of their lives. The City took its responsibilities to the park system seriously. Across the park, two little kids were swinging on the swings over a batch of sand. A bored mom was working to get them to stop, tapping her watch. Dark shadows started to lengthen in the park. There was a slight breeze and chill to the air. Chloe shivered slightly.

Not really ignoring me actually. It was more like … what was it like? She asked herself.

Then it hit her. What is was like, exactly like. Chloe remembered the Disney movie where the kid had the cowboy doll. The kid would play and play with that doll. It was his favorite toy. He loved that doll. Over time, the boy got older and got other favorite toys. Finally, he grew up and the doll was totally left behind, forgotten. Chloe felt just like that doll. A forgotten, favorite toy.

Small tears started to form and fall from her eyes. The wind picked them up and chapped her face. She started to cry harder and harder. She pulled off her backpack and rummaged around for her pack of Kleenex. There were three sheets left. She dabbed her eyes, blew her nose, and then stared out into the gathering dusk.

The mother of the small boys finally gathered them up. The trio trudged out of the park. They walked by her. One little boy stared at her face, his mouth open.

“Don’t stare, Jeremy, it’s not polite,” the mother chastised.

Chloe came back with a jerk. She wiped her eyes one more time. If she didn’t get home, her mother would start calling people. If she got into the house and got to the bathroom quick, she could get a hot towel on her face, then her mom wouldn’t start asking a lot of nosey questions like “Why are your eyes red?”

She didn’t feel like answering questions tonight. She didn’t feel like doing anything except crawling into bed and staying there about ten years or at least until graduation was over.

Pushing the bike back up, Chloe pulled the backpack on and climbed on her bike. She flipped up the headlamp for traffic and headed home.

Becca and Chloe were at lunch the next day. They were at a table with some friends. Greg used to sit with them but now he was several tables away with Jenn and her pals. Their group were all talking and laughing hysterically.

“I wonder what they are talking about,” Becca asked, her mouth full of sandwich, nodding her head at the other table.

Chloe let out a big sigh, spooned her chocolate pudding and said, “I could care.”

“Oh, Chloe, don’t say that girl. You can’t give up the fight. The Winter prom is coming up. What if he asks her? Becca’s eyes got big around and there was no doubt who the her was. “He used to always like yo…”

“I know, Becca, I know,” Chloe was getting testy with her friend. “He used to always…everything.” She spooned a dab of chocolate in her mouth. “That was then, this is now.”

“Ooh,” Becca put on the sad face. “I’m sorry…”

“Becca,” Chloe slammed down her spoon and went to grab her bag, “there is nothing to be sorry about. He has never asked me out, not once, and we were never,” she used her fingers to create brackets, ‘a thing.’ So, can we drop it before I scream?” Chloe stood up to go.

Becca looked slightly cowed and surprised at the same time. “Sure, sure, Chlo, whatever. Um, see you next class?”

Chloe nodded to her friend, got up, threw her trash away and stalked out. She hadn’t finished her lunch, but somehow, she wasn’t hungry anymore. Tittering and laughter from the Jennifer table followed her out of the cafeteria.

Life went on as always, the Winter prom approached. Chloe consoled herself that neither she nor her shorter, heavier friend, Becca had been asked to the dance. It was good to have some constants in an inconsistent, fickle world. It was a Monday morning; the teen was getting her stuff out of her locker when her friend sidled up to her.

“Chloe?”

“Hi, Becca. I’m looking for my good pen.” Chloe kept rummaging through the bottom of the locker.

“I need to tell you something.”

The tone in her friend’s voice made Chloe stop what she was doing and look around the locker door. Becca looked like a basset hound that had been caught chasing chickens.

“What is it?”

Becca clutched her books more tightly to her team sweatshirt. “Well … you know about the Winter prom …”

“Yes, yes. Of course…”

“Well, I got a phone call last night from Tina and she got it from Holly, so, I’m sure it’s really the truth.” Becca looked desperate.

“What is really the truth?” Chloe demanded and stuck her arms akimbo to her waist. She patted her sneakered foot.

“Gregory has asked Jennifer to the Prom and I wanted to tell you first before anyone else told you and you found out in class!” Becca said it all in a rush and out of breath, stopped suddenly, staring at Chloe.

Chloe felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach, she almost bent over, her face flushed. She could feel tears forming behind her eyes. She grabbed the locker door, steadied herself and took a big breath.

“Oh, sweetie, I’m so sor…”

Chloe put up a stopping hand. “Don’t, Becca. Don’t. It just makes it worse.”

“What are we going to do?”

“We are going to do absolutely nothing and act like nothing whatever has happened.” Chloe left off looking for the pen and slammed the locker door roughly. Becca jumped. “Just like nothing happened.” Chloe stuck her chin in the air. “We need to get to class.”

Continued Part III

Devine Tragedy

21 Wednesday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, Fiction, romance, teenagers

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Devine Tragedy

A teenage romance

Courtney Webb

Chloe Devine was seventeen years old and a senior at New Horizons High School, in Southwest Arizona. Students were finally back in class, with masks, but it had been a very long, lonely year, taking classes online at home. The Covid outbreak had put a cramp on a whole lot of things related to high school.

She was relieved to find that her senior class would probably actually walk for graduation. The previous year’s class had accepted their diplomas by Zoom. In any event, Chloe was grateful to be walking the halls again, talking to friends in person. The first day she was back on the campus of New H, as students called it, a load seemed to lift off her shoulders.

Especially fun was her AP lit class with Ms. Himes, who was also a Vice-Principle at New H. Ms. Himes had curly, unruly red hair that frizzed out in bad weather. Not only did Chloe like the woman and admire her, she felt here was a fellow frizzy-haired sufferer. Chloe’s hair was not red, it was dark brown, but curly and a complete misery during humid weather. The teen took to having a knit cap handy so when her hair got completely out of control, she could pull on the cap and content herself with simply fluffy bottoms sticking out.

The AP class was small, only seventeen students, fifteen girls and two boys. They had all earned their seats by dent of hard work, good grades and ‘aptitude.’ Chloe had found herself in class with any number of these students over the years, from as far back as the 5th grade.

Gregory, a tall slim blond, her favorite male at New H, had also got himself into the class by some miracle. Chloe knew for a fact; Greg didn’t really care for literature that much.

“Majoring in biology,” he told her one day at lunch. “Marine biology I think,” he added as he wolfed down his ham and cheese. The girl always wondered where he tucked all the food he was constantly devouring. Chloe was tall and skinny too, but man! She couldn’t eat like that!

Chloe had daydreams about Greg. He would ask her out on a date, they would become a thing; they would go to senior prom. They would go to the same university – he would ask her to get married … The dreams went on and on.

Her big brown eyes popped open when she realized that Ms. Himes had just asked her a question.

“Hmm, ah, hmm…”

Ms. Himes give Chloe a stern look and then, “Jennifer?”

Jennifer blithely brought forth a smooth melodious answer. “Jane Austin, Ma’am, Pride and Prejudice.” She smiled.  Chloe began to feel a pink blush of embarrassment rise on her cheeks. I knew that, she chastised herself.

Jennifer finished speaking and gave Chloe an arch, cat-like glance, smugness itself. The two had been in many of the same classes over the years. Although Chloe hated to admit it, they were frequently competing for the same classes, same grades, same awards, same everything.

In fact, Jennifer would get to class early and save a seat for Greg. She would mince and pat the chair when he came in. Whenever she accomplished her goal, Jennifer would tilt her blonde curly head to the side, smile sweetly and work very hard to keep her all her attention on either Ms. Himes or Gregory.

Greg seemed to not notice what was going on with Jennifer or else, chose to ignore the implications.  

I just bet he loves the attention! Chloe fumed to herself.

As soon as the bell rang, Jennifer would jump up and get as close to Greg as possible and walk with him out the door. When this happened, she would always turn slightly and shoot Chloe a tight smirk.

Chloe couldn’t help it, when she saw the two of them walk out of the class together, her heart sank.

Of course, Chloe would get her own back when her team would meet after school at the indoor pool for swimming. She was on the girls’ team and Greg played water polio. His big, long arms were perfect for spiking the ball over the net and he was the team’s star player. Chloe had been swimming her whole life, Austrian crawl was her specialty, and she was good at it.

The girls and boys came out of separate locker rooms. Chloe was wearing a new teal, one-piece, Speedo suit. It complemented her pale skin and fit well over her lanky frame. She still despaired over being mostly flat chested.

Her mother would say, “Stop worrying, Chloe. They’ll come in. The boys used to call me Ironing Board when I was your age. Look at me now!”

Since her mother was also a little on the plump side, Chloe didn’t want to think about that too hard.

She was suited up and chatting with the girls on the team when Greg strode by. He paused.

“Chloe.”

“Greg.”

“New suit?”

She looked down at herself and paused. “Let me think. Ah, yes, it is.” She smiled and looked up at him.

Greg was smiling too. He grinned. “Looking good girl, looking good.” He instantly turned and kept striding to the big square pool where water polo was held.

“Oh, Chloe isn’t he too much!” Becca, Chloe’s good friend gushed. She put her head down and whispered in Chloe’s ear, “Do you think he will ask you out? The Winter Prom is coming up soon.”

Chloe shook her head and shrugged. “No idea, it hasn’t happened yet.”

“Ooh,” Becca looked sad a moment and then glanced over to the other pool. “Thank God, that silly Jennifer hates to swim, or she would be here and all over him like an eel. Geese, she gives me the creeps!”

“Yeah,” Chloe responded.

The coach showed up with his whistle and clipboard. He started to call out names. Time to shift focus, Chloe turned toward the coach.

Continued Part II

Little Black Book IV

11 Sunday Feb 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, Fiction, marriage, mystery, romance

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Tags

ancient, fishing, romance, writing

                                                                        ###

Back home that evening, he was looking forward to a nice home cooked meal and maybe some quiet time with his wife and kids. He got into the apartment. It was unusually quiet.

He went over to the breakfast bar and saw a note in Shin’s hand.

‘Robert, the school was having a parent/kid fun night tonight. Know how much you hate those things. We will be gone a couple of hours. Dinner is in the frig.’

He crumbled the note into a tie little ball and threw it hard at the trash can. He went to get himself a beer and turn on the soccer game.

Tuffy, their little white dog, cocked his head at Robert, but kept to his side of the room.

                                                                  ###

The rest of the Professor’s week didn’t get much better. He found himself having lunch more and more often by himself. His feelings were like a slow boiling pot.  Alice was avoiding his calls. He was about to throw the phone away. He couldn’t wait for Saturday so he could go fishing.

                                                                          ###

The next Saturday dawned bright and clear. Robert pulled his stuff together and barely spoke to his wife in his hurry to get out the door. She stared after the slammed front door and shook her head.

At the marina he buzzed through the bait shop and got a small order of chum. After getting some help with gear, he hustled out. Jumping in the boat, Bob flung a large, padded bag with a handle into the bottom of the craft. He started the engine and when it roared to life he sped out to the sea.

“Mama, why does Pappa want to catch that fish so badly?” One of the girls asked Shin. Shin put down some darning she was doing and looked at the girl.

“Well, there is an old, old story about a fish. A magical fish. Would you like me to tell you about it?”

“Yes, yes!” the older girl cried, and her little sister came running when she heard there would be a story. The hard-wood floors were heated from the bottom. So, comfortable and hugging soft toys, they both sat crossed legged in front of their mother, eager to hear.

“Well,” Shin began to tell them the story of Yeh-Shen, the Chinese Cinderella.                                                         

In a community of cave-dwellers called Wudoung, there was a beautiful girl named Yeh-Shen. She was not only beautiful but kind, and gifted in many skills. In contrast, her half-sister, Jun-li, was plain-looking, selfish and lazy. Both she and her mother envied the attention the father lavished upon Yeh-Shen. Yeh-Shen’s mother had died years before.

Unfortunately, Yeh-Shen’s father died from a great illness and Yeh-Shen was left alone to live with her step-mother and step-sister in poverty.  With her family so reduced and poor, Yeh-Shen was forced to become a lowly servant and work for her scheming stepmother and envious older sister.  Despite living a life burdened with chores and housework, and suffering endless abuse at her stepmother’s hands, she found solace by up befriending a beautiful, 10-foot-long fish in the lake near her home. The fish was a magical fish with golden eyes and scales and talked to her.  The fish was really the guardian spirit of an old man, sent by her mother, who never forgot her daughter, even beyond the grave.

One day, Jun-li, curious about where Yeh-Shen went every day, followed her to the lake. Hiding behind a tree, the step-sister was surprised to see Yeh-Shen talking to the fish. Angry that Yeh-Shen had found happiness, the girl ran quickly home and told her mother everything. The cruel woman tricked Yeh-Shen into giving her the tattered dress she wore. Disguised, the step-mother went to the lake, caught the fish and served it for dinner for herself and Jun-li.

Yeh-Shen was devastated until the spirit of an old man, her ancestor, in a white robe with white hair, appeared and told her to bury the bones of the fish in four pots and hide each pot at the corners under her bed. The spirit also told her that whatever she needed would be granted if she talked to the bones.

Once in a year, the New Year Festival was celebrated. This was the time for the young maidens to meet potential husbands. Not wishing to spoil her own daughter’s chances, the step-mother forced her stepdaughter to remain home and clean their cave-house. After they had left for the festival, Yeh-Shen was visited by the fish’s spirit again. She made a silent wish to the bones and suddenly found herself clothed in a magnificent gown of sea-green silk, a cloak of kingfisher bird feathers and a pair of golden slippers.

Yeh-Shen went to the festival by foot. Admired by everyone, she particularly enjoyed attention from young men who believed her to be a princess. She enjoyed herself until she realized that her step-sister may have recognized her. Quickly she left the festival and in her hurry, accidentally left behind a golden slipper. Arriving home, she hid her finery and the remaining slipper under her bed. The fish bones lay silent now, however, for they had warned Yeh-Shen not to lose even one of her slippers.

Her step family returned from the festival, talking and laughing. They mentioned a mysterious beauty who appeared at the festival. Although Yeh-Shen was sad, she told them nothing of her adventure.

The golden slipper was found by a local peasant. The man, entranced by the beauty and value of the shoe, hurried to the castle of a nearby king, where he felt certain of a reward. The palace guard paid the man a small token and took the shoe to his master.

The king of the To’Han islets, was ruler of a powerful kingdom covering thousands of small islands. Fascinated by the shoe’s small size, the king issued a royal decree to search to find the maiden whose foot fit into the shoe and proclaimed he would marry that girl. The search extended until it reached the community of the cave-dwellers. Every maiden, including Jun-Li, tried the slipper. But, by some magic, it seemed to shrink its size whenever touching a maiden’s foot. Despondent that he could not find the woman he was searching for; the king made a great pavilion and placed the shoe there on display.

Yeh-Shen stole in the pavilion, late at night to try to retrieve her slipper, but was mistaken as a thief. She was then was brought before the king. There she told him everything about her life, how she lost her friend, the gold-eyed fish, and now her slipper. The king, struck by her gentle nature and beauty despite her circumstances, believed her and allowed her to go home with the slipper. The next day, the prince came back to the meager dwelling and claimed the girl and her golden slipper to be his wife. He took her back to the palace and married her. They were happy ever after.

                                                 ###

“So, girls. What did you think of the story?” Shin finally stopped talking and addressed her two daughter who sat in rapture listening.

“Oh, Mom! We loved it!” They both chorused together, eyes shining.

                                                                                  

In the bay area, south of Busan, Robert was about a mile offshore; he stopped the engine and regrouped. He lifted the black, padded bag with a silver logo on the side. Carefully, he unzipped it and pulled the device out. He balanced it with one hand and smiled. Damn! Amazing what you could get on the Internet these days.

In his hand, it shone in the sunlight. Stainless steel, titanium alloy, five feet long, light in the hand. Razor sharp, it was five feet of instant death. A custom made, harpoon, designed mostly for shark dives, the beauty of the thing sent a shiver down his spine.

Robert had tested and retested the nylon rope coil which was attached to a ring at the end of the harpoon. He even had the guy in the bait shop help him test it. He pulled one way, and the little fat guy pulled the other, and the knot held. Bob always prided himself on his sailor’s knots. Another thing he had learned from his overbearing, Navy father.

“A man is as good as his knot.” The old duffer used to say.

“Ha,” Robert laughed out loud. “I got you now, you little bastard. No one calls me stupid and gets away with it.”

He looped the nylon rope around the ring at the prow of the skiff. He pulled on the double knots again and again. They held.

He laid the harpoon in the hull of the boat and pulled out the rod and reel; baited the hook and threw it in. Just a matter of time, he told himself. Just a matter of time.

It wasn’t too long before there was a tug at the line. He carefully started to reel in the line. He just wanted to get the grouper to the top of the water. He wasn’t interested in hooking it anymore. There was a slight tug, some resistance, but he thought, maybe. . .

There was a splash on the surface.

“Hey, asshole. No, you, over here.”

The man whipped his head around and the big grouper was on the exact opposite side of the boat from his line. What?

“You’re never going to catch me, asshole. You don’t have it in ya.”

We’ll see about that, Robert smiled grimly and almost casually reached into the bottom of the boat. He got a grip on the harpoon.

Quickly, he rose up and pulled back his arm and with all his might, threw the harpoon. There was a thud sound.

An “Ah!” cry came from the water and a pool of blood started to form on the top of the water.

“Ha!” Robert called out with glee. Suddenly, the rope coil started to unwind, going down deep into the water. He tried to grab it but it was going too fast and it burned the palms of his hands. “Ow,” he yelled.

The line got tight against the prow of the boat and the boat started to move in the direction of the line.

“Ah, shit!”

The boat was starting to move more rapidly now. He tried to untie the line, but it was too tight and there was no give. The boat was being pulled and was completely out of his control.

He ran over to the back of the boat to the engine and started it. It came to life and then, for no apparent reason, sputtered and died.

“Jesus!” Robert screamed. But the boat was moving away from shore and there was no one to hear him.

The fat guy in the bait shop waited and waited for Robert to return and tie up his boat. The old guy even went out to the pier and peered around for the little craft but could see nothing.

“Ah, well.” He shrugged his shoulders. “He’s a big boy, I guess he knows what he is doing.” He finally turned off the lights to the shop, locked up and went home.

When Robert did not return home that evening, Shin started to get concerned. She called and called to his cell phone but there was no answer. She started to call around to his various teaching buddies and no one had seen him.

By the next afternoon, she was frantic and called the police. They told her she had to come down and made a written report. Reluctantly, she called her mother to come watch the girls and went to the station.

A hunt was undertaken, and the skiff was found, floating, empty, about two miles offshore. There was no Robert Towne, and no one had seen him.

Shin was at the station, or the police were at her apartment every day for two weeks and there was nothing. She started to run out of tears. They were beginning to talk to her about his being ‘legally dead’. She didn’t want to think about that yet. Not yet.

                                                                        ####

Continued Part V

Scarecrow

22 Monday Jan 2024

Posted by webbywriter1 in aging, exercise, dating, Fiction, romance

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Huge blue eyes, a shock of pure white hair tucked under a ball cap. Tall and gangly, you could tell by his profile he had been a very handsome man once. Sunburned by a thousand hot Fresno suns, he rode his bicycle over the streets of the town, scarecrow on the back of a bike.

“Bill, Bill, is that you?” The chubby elderly lady dressed in a mauve warm-up suit waved one hand out of her front door. “Oh, Bill, I have something for you. Just wait a sec and I’ll be right out.”

He paused in front of his apartment door, and turned to look down the hallway. Impatience clouded his face.  He decided to go in anyway, Phyllis would catch up. He unlocked the door and dumped his backpack on the heavy brown Barcalounger. Thankfully they had a nice bike rack downstairs so he could lock up his bike without having to bring it inside.

He started to flip through his mail. Whole Term Life, discounted, special for senior citizens! He threw it in the trash with a flick. Coupons, coupons, Green Dot Market coupons, he set those aside. More ads for cable TV, wireless phones, hearing aids. Funeral home specials.

 “Jesus!” He thought to himself. “I’m not dead yet!”

There was one card for a Latin dance club. Cumbiatron!!!!! In brilliant green, orange and black letters it announced salsa night at the club. He put that one to the side.

There was a knock on the door. “There you are, thought I had missed you!” Phyllis gushed with an aluminum covered pan in her hands.

“I wish,” Bill muttered to himself, holding the door open.

“I just happened to have some extra of this beef casserole and I know how much you like ground beef. No big pieces.” She smiled the big smile, a wonderful set of choppers showing.

“Oh, that is so nice of you Phyllis,” he oozed is his best nicey, nice voice. “You are so right, it is my favorite.” He yanked the glass dish out of her hands and placed it on the counter.

“I thought maybe you could join us downstairs later for some bridge.”

“Sorry Phyllis, I just can’t. Got some things I just have to get done. Maybe next time.” He was scooting her toward the door with his big, boney hands.

Her mouth formed a little disappointed frown. “Oh, I just thought…”

“No, no. You were right to ask. It’s just that I have had a long morning already and have to rest up for this evening. You understand.” He grinned at her. He had a nice set of choppers too.

Phyllis recovered. “Okay then. Well, enjoy your dinner and next time.”

Bill nodded vigorously and shut the door on her rear end.

“Now where is that blue silk shirt I used to have?” He kicked his shoes off and scooted his feet through the olive-green shag carpet he’d put down on the living room floor. He popped a cassette in the player and turned it on. In the bedroom he began to rummage through his closet. He wanted to make it to church tonight and see if that new gal was there.

“Lady, Linda,” he mused, “what was her name? Ah, here it is.” He slid the long sleeved shirt out of the closet and examined it. Being over twenty years old, it was not doing too badly.

“Like you, you old dog.” He winked at himself in the mirror. “Lady, I think the name was. Hot!”

He headed for the shower humming along with the music, Lady from Styx.

That evening, Bill arrived at Open Door Mission Church a little early and hustled over to get coffee and cookies before they were all gone.  The church crowd was starting to gather and mill around the room.  Bill worked the room saying hello and shaking hands. He was peering around looking to see if Lady had arrived yet. 

“Patience,” he mumbled to himself. “All things in God’s time; can’t rush it.”

“Bill, hey, you’re here!” Came the booming voice of the church pastor. Bill turned. Jimmy Smith, minister of Open Door was a paunchy guy with a friendly face and thin, balding blond hair. He extended his hand toward Bill.

They shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. After a few minutes, Jimmy shifted his over-tight belt around on his double-knit polyester tan pants. Bill wondered if they came from Wal-Mart. It would be the kind of tacky thing the pastor’s wife would buy.

“Bill, I need to discuss something with you for just a minute.” Jimmy was starting to sweat a little on the brow.  There was a pause while the man tried to collect his thoughts.

“You know that we at the church,” he waved his hand to indicate the congregation, “always appreciate the help you give us, volunteering and all.”

“I’m here to serve and help Jimmy, you know that,” Bill answered earnestly. “I’m just a humble servant of God.”

Jimmy paused for a moment, seemingly losing his train of thought.  “Ah, yeah. Right. That is sort of the thing Bill,” he paused again, “some of the parishioners, just a few mind you, have been complaining about the help you have been giving them.”

Bill managed to look shocked. “Whatever can you mean, Jimmy?”

“Well,” Jimmy was having a little trouble with the words, “some people feel you are a little, well, intense…yes, yes, that’s the word. A little too intense for their liking.”

“Jimmy, you know that I started out in seminary school, and I have been doing good works and carrying the message of the Lord for all these years. I am so sorry if people just aren’t interested…”

“Interested is not really the right word Bill, no, no. I wouldn’t use the word ‘interested’. No, it’s more like they feel like you come on too strong with them and the message and they feel…….” He was struggling again, “they feel, well, intimidated. Yes, that’s it. Intimidated.”

Bill shook his head back and forth, mystified.

“Well, Jimmy, whatever it is you want from me, you know you just have to ask. You know that don’t you, Jimmy?” He put a boney hand on Jimmy’s thick shoulder.

“Well, of course, Bill,” Jimmy was trying hard to maintain eye contact. “Tell you what. Maybe if you could just, tone things down a bit, for the time being. Let the newcomers sort of feel their way around here, maybe that would help.”

Bill was nodding with enthusiasm, “Absolutely, Jimmy, you’re the man in charge.”

Jimmy looked relieved; he could see his wife scowling at him from the kitchen area. “Well, actually, He’s the man in charge,” he pointed a finger upwards. “But still, so glad we could speak to each other like this. Again, thanks for all your work for the church. Enjoy the service.” He wiped his brow with a hand and scurried off to see what his wife wanted.

Bill smiled and turned back to the congregation and pews “Ass,” he thought to himself. “I was preaching when he was in diapers.”

Jimmy beat it over to his wife, double time.

“Did you talk to him?” she hissed at him.

“Yes, Susan, I talked to him. He seems very cooperative.”

“I hope so, I am so sick of him. The old moocher,” she shook her head in disgust.

The service was starting, Bill was forced to find a seat with the others. To his delight, Lady came in late through a side door and grab a seat a few rows ahead of him. He could lean sideways and get a glimpse of her stocking-clad legs over a well shod heel.  “Got to love it,” he mumbled a little. The short, dumpy lady sitting next to him shot him a suspicious look. He opened his pew book.

After the service, the church always served more coffee and refreshments and he raced the crowd back to the kitchen.  Lady wandered in and was talking to some other women. He moseyed over and hung onto the edges of the conversation, laughing when the others laughed.

Out in the parking lot; as the parishioners started to leave, he casually got his bike off the rack and wandered over to where Lady was getting in her car. “So, good to see you here tonight, we just love newcomers,” he told her.

She looked up a little startled and then pausing said “Ah, that is so sweet to hear you say. Thanks Bill, it feels great to be welcomed.”

“Don’t know if you’d ever like to go for coffee after the service,” he ventured.

She had gotten the car door opened and threw her purse in. She looked like she was considering his offer for a moment. “Oh, don’t think so, Bill. Thanks so much, I have to get home to my fiancée.”

His guts lurched at the word fiancée but he managed to keep the smile on his face. “Well, maybe invite him too sometime, why the heck not?”

She laughed and got into her car. “Maybe, sometime.” She started the engine and drove away. When she was well out of the parking lot she shook her blond head back and forth. “Men, amazing.”

Bill was pedaling like a madman back home to Happy House Village.  “She’s not that great,” he fumed furiously. “And that suit she was wearing. What’s that color, hot pink? Just another tart in a cheap suit.” He slammed his bike into the bike rack. Scuttling past the warm light of the club house he could see a group of people playing cards. Phyllis was there sitting next to some man he didn’t know. “Yucking it up, as always. Bunch of jerk-offs.” He stomped up the carpeted stairs not waiting for the elevator.

                                                                        #

Next night, Bill rode the bus, putting his bike on the front, and was able to find the Cumbiaton bar for the salsa dancing. Electro Latin Nights the billboard screamed. He was wearing his best blue silk shirt and some nice fitting white pants. He was so proud of himself he could still fit into all his old clothes. “That’s exercise for you.” Plus, he knew the light here would be very dim so that would help immensely.

Always a good dancer, he was eager to try these new steps. “Go Dog, go,” he encouraged himself. He asked many ladies to dance and they usually said yes and pretty soon the whole place was a riot of motion and energy. He was really having fun.

After the end of one exhausting set, he asked his little Latina partner “Drink?”

“Si, senor, Dos Equis, por favor.” Bill ran to get her drink.

As she sat sipping her drink, he fondled his coke. “Would you like to go out sometime?”

She laughed, a little tinkling laugh, and her black curls shook. “No man, you fun but you old enough to be my grandpa.” She giggled again and sipped her beer, her bright red nail polish brushing drops off the low-cut chiffon thing she was wearing.

Bill raised his glass. “Cheers, no problem,” he gave her a big smile, disco light glinting off his choppers.

Back home that night, he stared in the mirror. “What’s wrong with me?” he asked his reflection. “Girls  used to go wild over me. They must have no taste anymore.” Shaking his head sadly over the state of the world, he made his way to bed, carefully folding back the baby blue chenille cover.  

                                                                        #

Next night, he waited until it was bridge time and ambled downstairs to join the group. He balanced one skinny hip on a plush tan chair. The chair was color coordinated with the Italian styled plaster walls.

“So, Phyllis,” he asked casually, “still looking for that bridge partner?”

“Oh Bill, that is so sweet of you.” Phyllis gushed. “But, oh, here he is.” She waved at the entranceway. A dark haired man stood under the heavy crown molding entranceway. “Fred, Fred, over here honey!”

Fred sauntered over and plopped down in one of the folding chairs at the card table.

“Fred is my new bridge partner. Isn’t he just the cutest?” Fred, looking a bit like a carnival bear dressed in a shirt and tie, gave a curt nod in Bill’s general direction.

“So, we gonna play or what?” growled Sally, the unofficial bridge headmaster, a cigarette hanging out of her mouth. The others eagerly pulled their chairs up to the table waiting for their cards.

“Ah, yeah,” Bill mumbled to Phyllis who was already caught up in the game. He got off the chair and wandered out to the pool and laid down on one of the big white plastic loungers. The pool cleaner swept back and forth in the water producing little gurgling sounds.

He leaned back and stared up at the night sky and the bright, white stars. “What’s the world coming to Lord? What’s the world coming to?”

cew

What Does it Feel Like to get Vetted by a Guy?

28 Tuesday Nov 2023

Posted by webbywriter1 in aging, exercise, dating, FRIENDSHIP, holidays

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Do guy ‘vet’ girls? Absolutely.

I was recently on a short vacation in my home state and went on a day’s tour of one of our famous national parks. It was fun. For me and all the other tourists! However, I had booked a tour van beforehand, so I didn’t have to drive and could enjoy the scenery.

I was the last one in the van and sat down by a very good-looking guy. I instantly saw that he was a lot younger than me, (oh, sigh!). Still, we spent a lot of the day together, chatting about our respective lives. He had recently broken up with his girlfriend and I concluded he was a) lonely b) slightly depressed and c) looking for someone new.

Anyway, we talked all day, and he told me a great deal about himself. I talked about myself a bit and my work, and we exchanged like stories. Although, certainly, at the end of the day, he had been to more places than I had been and quite certainly had a lot more money.

Here’s where it gets interesting. He spent most of the day either talking to me or following me around. Why? Because I’m fabulously attractive? Well, probably (for my age.) More like, he is lonely and likes to be around a woman. Was he interested? To an extent but he also certainly took note of the crow’s-feet and other wrinkles. He got my email to send me some park pictures, but, I doubt I’ll hear from him again.

It was fun. Was I being vetted? Yes, I was. Did I pass? No, too old. What about him? Cute, right? Very, and sexy. Hmm. But… This guy made his money building a CBD enterprise that was successfully and that he recently sold. How do I feel about that? Well…I’m totally opposed to all CBD products. I have been against marijuana forever and felt that the jury was out about how much real damage this ‘natural, and herbal remedy’ could do. Since I doubt my new friend reads all the health bulletins I read, he probably doesn’t know about the absolute crisis going on in the medical field with older patients using CBD products that combine poorly with their other medications. Patients are having severe adverse reactions to include heart problems, breathing and blood pressure issues. This is drop-dead kind of stuff. So…the data is trickling in as to the effects of this now legal drug.

Bottom line, what does this mean? It means that the two of us have some very significant and fundamental differences in our value systems. Is this important? Very. Men tend to have a very discerning radar for a woman’s beauty and almost any little thing can mar the package. Women tend to be much more sensitive to the man’s character flaws and less on beauty, although, that does matter.

So, seriously, how many relationships fail over beauty issues versus failure over character flaws? Do we  need to think about that one very hard?

So, girls…let me be the nineteenth person to tell you not to fall into bed with Mr. Wonderful after you first meet. The temptation can be very great. And, you may think I say that because you don’t want him to think you are ‘easy’. True, but there’s a lot more to it than that. The guy who pressured you into the sack may think you’re easy or maybe he’s not really all that interested. It can, curiously enough, be that he is very interested, doesn’t have a lot of self-confidence (for whatever reason). He wants you in the sack so you will think of him, not from the neck up, but from the waist down. Maybe he doesn’t feel so great about himself and doesn’t want you to spend a lot of time getting to know him, ‘cause, what will you think then? It is so important to get to know the guy before the fun stuff starts so you can form some kind of idea about who this guy really is.

I did like on my trip, and it was great getting all that male attention. Just as well that I didn’t pass the vetting test. I might have been forced to give him a piece of my mind about all that CBD crap. That wouldn’t have worked, would it?

CEW

P.S.: Final note, if you don’t hear back from the guy in three days, you won’t hear back from him. Oh, sigh.

Connie Goes Online – Conclusion

12 Monday Jun 2023

Posted by webbywriter1 in aging, exercise, dating, romance

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ittle before she got dressed and met her date. No point in looking droopy. After 45 minutes she got up, reapplied her makeup careful to hide the bruises from the Botox, brushed and sprayed her hair. The dress was on, the stockings up, the shoes matched everything and the jewelry too. She was ready to go.

She met Rudolf by the subway and her first impression was that he was shorter than she thought he would be. “He has got to be the shortest 6’ man I have met in awhile.” Regardless, they were soon chatting together like old buddies.

They tried to find a restaurant, but most weren’t open yet, so they ended up at Starbucks. Rudolf ordered them coffee; Connie got a sandwich. They both talked about themselves, and he seemed to like talking about himself. She had to admit, he had the deepest blue eyes she had seen in quite some time. She could fall right into those…

“And I have been to 27 different of the United States” he told her. “And I bet you have never been to Lynchburg, Tennessee where they make Jack Daniels whiskey.” She had to admit she never had, and he told her all about it and how the place was just like the commercials. Rudolf proceeded to tell her about all the cities in California he had visited too and then started in on the Asian countries he had been to and all the weird food. Are we in some kind of race? She thought to herself.

After about two hours of the ‘where have you been, what have you done,’ marathon, Connie had to interrupt.

“Rudolf, I’m going to have to go. I’m meeting some other people here in town,” she smiled.  “How about lunch tomorrow?”

Rudolf seemed a little surprised by the request. “Oh, ya, sure.” Awkwardly he stood up. “Tomorrow then,” nodding they shook hands. Too soon for any clumsy kisses.

Connie knew she could be in trouble with this one and was happy to meet her friends for dinner and stop thinking about him for a while. Later, in bed back at the hotel, she knew she would have to confront Rudolf about his situation with his wife.  She realized reluctantly that there could be all kinds of reasons for it. Maybe none of them to having anything to do with the wife at all. Perhaps the company offered him a bunch of money to come here, or he was bored and restless, having a mid-life crisis, he wanted to fool around, so on.

Connie got up bright and early the next day, looking forward to lunch. An hour later she got a text from Rudolf that he could not make it because of illness and that he was going to have to cancel all his plans for the day. She texted him back, “Thanks, Rudolf. Talk soon?”

Later that week, she got off the bus with Mr. James.

“So, what are you doing for next holiday weekend?” he demanded, black eyebrows pulled together.

Connie was ready. “Oh, that!” she informed him breezily. “Well, I’m off to the City with the boyfriend and it will be fun!” She smiled brilliantly.

Mr. James got very quiet. “Hmm, well, I will be spending time with my three daughters. And” he coughed, “my wife.” He smiled tightly.

“Now, wasn’t that hard,” Connie thought.

After three days, Connie didn’t think she was going to hear from Rudolf again.

“It’s okay,” she said to Bubbles as they sat watching television, “I gave up all that trying to impress people kind of stuff in high school. I guess that guy is still back there. Weird. I just might not be nearly exciting enough for him. Hmm. Maybe I should send him the phone number of that Pink Escort Service I saw advertised. Now I bet those girls are exciting!”

Bubbles yawned, clearly unimpressed by all this drama. He laid his head on her lap and she gave him a pet. “Sherlock, Bubbles?” He didn’t disagree so she changed the channel.

Finis

cew

Connie Goes Online – Part II

11 Sunday Jun 2023

Posted by webbywriter1 in aging, exercise, dating, romance

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She positioned herself with the hand weights and started to do the back lifts like the gym instructor had told her. She pulled on the weights and repeated 15-20 times.  She did front side and back for several minutes and put the weights down and glancing around to see if anyone was watching. Lifting her arms up, she giggled the arm flab in front of the full length mirror. “Actually,” she thought to herself, “it wasn’t looking so bad,” It did look like that ugly upper arm flab was receding. She thought about lipo-suction. “Nah,” she thought, “If I am going to spend $4,500, I’ll spend it on my face.”

She saw the guy coming her way, who at age 55,  dressed like he was a 30 year-old mountain hiker. He was always trying to get her attention. “I might be interested,” she thought to herself, “if he wouldn’t spend so much time looking at himself in the mirror.” True to form, the guy came over to pick up some of the heavier weights. Stopping in front of a floor length mirror, he adjusted his baseball cap to a jaunty level above his eyes, and gave his cotton neckerchief a little yank. Is that a sporting look, thought Connie, or to hide the wrinkles? She moved away, no point in letting him think she was looking at him.  She was looking at him, she reminded herself, but she wasn’t looking at him.

She moved over to the exercycles and got on one. There was a housewife type next to her who gave her a cheery hello! She seems to be having a great time! Connie thought grudgingly as she pulled out her book to read. She checked the clock, should make this twenty minutes for the correct amount of cardio and all that baloney. She adjusted the dial down to the lowest point and started cycling. Exercise could be a pain.

Later on in the locker, she was amazed as always, at the number of women who sported what one of her friends called ‘the apron.’  The apron was belly fat so large it stuck out. Eventually, it sagged down in a large fold over the bottom of the abdomen, sometime hanging as low as the pubic area. Connie always tried to not stare at women with this. “I am sure they feel just as bad about it,” she thought to herself. “Wow!” as one woman walked by. “Plastic surgery? Something, yikes!”

Connie was contentious about the gym, but certainly did not feel like she was compulsive about it. She was fairly sure one of her ‘gym-mates’ was there every day and possibly twice a day. “Too much!” she thought as she saw the women yet again, “nobody needs that much exercise. Jeese!”

Back at home that evening; she had to get on her online dating site. “I do not have to check my mail, I don’t, I don’t, I don’t…”

‘Looking for Love’, she read, ‘Really Nice Guy.’ “Hum, nice picture,” she told Bubbles the cat who seemed only mildly interested. She read on, “widowed, two boys….they are my life….and my dogs, good doggies…” Connie jerked at this one but continued to read paragraph after paragraph about their lives. He seemed like a good father at least; the paragraph went on and she then came to “but I might get violent if I found you watching a chick flick…” What! She read it again and then once again to be sure if she read it right. Was he trying to be funny? “God, no wonder his wife died!” Connie told an uninterested Bubbles who was licking his fur. She decided to give ‘Looking’ a pass and did send a message to Kiwi from Australia; too young of course, but cute on that bicycle.

Connie had to stop all this frivolity to get ready for bed; tomorrow was definitely another day and this was finals week and she needed her energy.

Mr. James was waiting in line for the bus as usual and she moved behind him and attempted to pull out her book to start reading quickly. No luck, he had to talk to her. Mr. James was an employee at her school who had started there about six months before. He immediately fastened on to her and kept giving her invitations to lunch, dinner, coffee, hiking, etc, etc, etc. Connie countered with being busy, having no business cards, forgetting her phone number, not calling him, having a friend call him after he just insisted on going with her hiking group. Connie had told her friend Lilly “If this guy is not married, my name is Mickey Mouse! And, he won’t back off.”

Today the subject was movies and they managed to squeeze out 5-10 minutes of conversation on the latest movies before the bus mercifully showed up and she could get on. She dashed to a seat next to a girl student quickly before he could figure out where she was and sat down.  “Boy, do I need to shake this guy,” Connie mused to herself, shaking her head.

Connie got through the day of sweaty, semi-hysterical students with their final exams, and fortunately, almost to her surprise, most of the students did really well. “Guess that open-book idea worked,” she told Bob her co-worker.

“Ah, you’re going too easy on them,” was his response.

“Maybe so, “she told him. “But, it is either that or a bunch of them flunk the test and then I am called on the carpet to explain why students ‘can’t’ pass the class.” Bob shrugged his shoulders with a ‘what-do-you-do’ kind of attitude.

Connie told him about the ‘chick-flick’ guy. Bob laughed “Oh no, caught red-handed watching Sleepless in Seattle the second time and it is my favorite movie!” They both laughed.

Back home that evening, Connie decided to skip the gym, she was too tired. She told Bubbles she wasn’t going and Bubbles blinked at her in a kind of blank fashion. “I know, I know,” she said. “First it’s one day, then the next, and the next, and the next.” Bubbles lost interest at this point and started to lick his fur.  “Yeah, yeah,” she said to him.

Back on-line, “Hello, how are you?” came the polite question. Rudolf was 45 years old, blue eyes, 6’ tall and educated. He was here in this country to do some engineering work. He wanted to know if she would like to send him an email. “Hum,” Connie though, “so polite.” She scanned his profile. “Married” was blank. That didn’t look so good. She did send him an email “Nice to meet you Rudolf, you look very interesting, Are you married?”

The answer came the next day and Rudolf indicated that he was ‘separated.’ Experience told Connie that could mean a really lot of things. She began fantasizing about why he was separated. His wife has had an affair with a new boyfriend, a new girlfriend, she drinks too much, she takes pills, she works too much, she won’t work at all, she sits on the sofa all day, she goes to the gym all day long. Between these fantasies they were emailing each other back and forth and finally decided to meet.

Rudolf lived in the Big City which was two hours away by train. She was ok with that; allowed her to collect herself before meeting him. Connie had to grind over and over again about going back to Dr. Lee to have Botox on her forehead. $400 she groaned to herself.  Jesus that is a lot of money!

But, she had to admit, every time she went past a mirror, especially in bright light, the deep furrows between her eyes were doing nothing for her looks. She finally decided to bite the bullet and go in and do it. Two hours later and lighter in the pocketbook, she emerged with only a little ice pack on her forehead.

“You’re an artist Dr. Lee,” she told him. She wasn’t kidding. He had just gone after her face hammer and thongs with two laser guns for heavy sun spots and done a beautiful job. The spots above her mouth were fading away nicely.

Dr. Lee looked very pleased with himself. “He should,” she thought, “making that kind of money. “

Connie got her hair colored and bought a new pair of wooly stockings to go with her latest English dress that was very ‘trendy.’ The dress covered the remaining stomach and butt bulges without clinging. The hairdresser curled her hair with the curling iron, something she could never do herself, and she brushed it out the next day and was ready to get on the train.

By the time she got there and got checked in; she was starting to feel tired. Connie decided to lie down a little before she got dressed and met her date. No point in looking droopy. After 45 minutes she got up; reapplied her makeup careful to hide the bruises from the Botox, brushed and sprayed her hair. The dress was on, the stockings up; the shoes matched everything and the jewelry too. She was ready to go.

She met Rudolf by the subway and her first impression was that he was shorter than she thought he would be. “He has got to be the shortest 6’ man I have met in awhile.” Regardless, they were soon chatting together like old buddies.

Continued Part III

Connie Goes Online

08 Thursday Jun 2023

Posted by webbywriter1 in aging, exercise, dating, marriage

≈ Comments Off on Connie Goes Online

“Hey Cutie! Let’s have some fun!”

Connie read the online message with a frown.  “Now why would somebody his age be interested in somebody my age? I don’t get it.”  She stared at the picture. A buff, tan, smiling 38 year old guy stared fetchingly out at her. “Hum,” she thought, “he is cute.” She pulled the mouse down and clicked on “Profiles”.  “Let’s see” she murmured to herself, “age, height, weight, job, interests, salary, ah…marital status.” She paused to look harder at the screen; did it say ‘married’?  Wasn’t this a singles dating site? What was a married guy doing on here?

Connie read ‘Gary’s’ message again and could see that he was asking her if she wanted to chat. “No,” she said out loud to the computer screen. “I do not want to chat with you Gary,” she said with an angry click to her mouse.

Connie’s life had taken a turn when, as life tends to do, kids grow up and go away to school. This had happened to her when her only daughter, her baby, Scooter, left four years ago to attend a big name university. With her heart breaking, she had said her goodbyes as they packed up a bunch of her daughter’s things.  Also, as life has a tendency to do, the baby was going to be living much closer to the Dad now. Connie had gotten a chilly feeling that Scooter was going to be spending a lot more time with him now, making up for lost time away from him after the divorce. As Connie had predicted, that is exactly what did happen. Countless nights and weekends spent together watching TV movies, eating home-delivered pizza and baking seemed to be a thing of the past.

So these days, if it wasn’t Scooter’s Dad, it was the boyfriend and if it wasn’t him it was her school or her work and Connie-mom didn’t get to see much of the girl anymore. She got weepy over this from time to time as countless friends tried to cheer her up and talked about the ‘growing up process.’ She didn’t know if they meant hers or the kid’s.

“Growing up and growing old,” Connie said to the room with a gloomy tone. Turning 50 had hurt her ego more than anything else. As far as dating, the pool of men seemed to get smaller every year and statistics about these things indicated that wasn’t just in her mind.

Connie clicked on a message from “Greatguy.” “Oh God, nineteen years old! Gak!” That one actually made her feel a little sick. “Why in the world….” She shook her head, at fifty-five, she knew she did look ‘good for her age’, but still, nineteen? Good God.

“Hey, let’s hook up!” She read the message from Steve from California who was also married and apparently looking for a ‘Friend with Benefits’ and ‘NSA’. Connie studied his profile, cute she thought, too bad about the married part. NSA? She looked at it again; NRA? No, NSA. What the heck? “Oh!” she got a sudden flash, “NSA – no strings attached. Of course.”

 “Oh well,” she clicked off the computer, time to get to the gym.

Continued Part II

Dodi Dies – Detective Victor Pauline investigates

28 Sunday May 2023

Posted by webbywriter1 in dating, detective stories, Fiction, romance

≈ Comments Off on Dodi Dies – Detective Victor Pauline investigates

                                    

“Ah, Jan, this is Delores. She will be helping you out in class.” The Dean shuffled awkwardly. 

 Jan turned to meet her new co-worker. It was the first day of class and she was a little distracted. She put down a wad of papers and held out her hand. 

      “Hi, Delores, how are you?” Jan said. Delores flashed a dazzling white smile at Jan. Her teeth almost sparkled. Delores blinked. 

      Jan paused a moment. What was that color on those eyelids? Green sparkle something. 

      “Oh, call me Dodi. Everyone does.” 

      “Sure,” Jan replied. The woman blinked again. 

      Oh. Sparkly green eyeliner
, Jan thought to herself absently. Her coworker was thin with a big bubble of frosted blonde hair and a tailored pants suit. Close to fifty-five, she wore bright red lipstick that had started to bleed into the fine lines around her mouth. 

     “Nice to meet you,” Jan added. 
   
     She needed to get into the classroom. As a new hire to Technology Plus! school, she couldn’t afford to be late. Hustling to the class, she mused, somewhat surprised. The Dean and her direct supervisor, Diana, never mentioned a coworker/helper before. Whatever, she shrugged and reviewed her opening speech as students began to trickle in. 

       A little later, Dodi came in and sat to one side, toward the back. Jan made introductions. They got busy with student attendance and report forms. Jan created 3×5 attendance cards for each student. 

Jan turned and almost walked into her co-worker, who had sidled up to the podium.

“What are those?” Dodi asked her,

      “Oh.” Jan felt off balance. “They…they’re attendance cards with their names and info,” Jan got out. 

      “I’ll just borrow these for a little,” Dodi smiled broadly at Jan who reluctantly handed over the cards.

After break Dodi went to the front of the classroom. 

      “Well, now we’ve gotten to know each other a little bit, it’s time to get organized. I’m going to call your names alphabetically and I’d like you to take your correct seats,” she announced to the class.

She then proceeded to call out names. Students slowly got up and shuffled around the room as she called names and pointed to desks and chairs. Jan watched this process, confused. 

       They’re college students, for gosh sakes, she thought. They should be able to pick their own seats. The roll call continued. Oh, whatever, it won’t kill them. 

      After the reseating was done, Dodi plunked herself down at a desk with a group of file folders and started to label them. Jan stared at her a moment. Giving herself a mental shake, she resumed her place at the front, and continued the lecture.

The second part of class was designatated for student’s computer work. They moved as a group to the computer lab. Students started pecking at computer keys. By the end of class, Jan felt good. She had connected with her students and gotten most of the mountain of material covered. 

      It was 9:45 pm and Jan was packing up her stuff, eager to get home. She stopped back at her desk in the office to get the last of her things. The Assistant Dean was still at his desk. She waved at him. A short, middle-aged man, Dan DeLeon was a snappy dresser with a neat mustache, perfectly manicured hands. His clothing, an unpscale collegiate style, looked like they they came from Patrick James Men’s Clothiers. James was a fancy, bespoke men’s shop in town. Jan liked him, and he waved back as she pushed her way out the swinging door. 

      The following week, Jan came to the office early. She buzzed by the Dean’s office. Dean Nancy was in her office dressed in her usual flowing caftan attire. A fancy necklace around her neck pulled the eye away from her substantial bulk. She waved good-naturedly at Jan. 

“How’s it going, Jan?” she smiled.

Jan paused at the door to the Dean’s office and leaned in.

“Great, Jan. Things are going fine.’ She paused looking at the framed pictures of children on Jan’s desk. “Your children?”

            “No, no. Nieces and nephews. That,” she pointed to a picture on the wall of herself and a group of youngsters, “was my last Kinder class. Finally decided I needed to do something in the real world. Which is why I’m here!”

            Jan smiled at the happy faces, “Well, ah, great. Got to be going. Later.” Dean Nancy smiled and went back to work.

      Jan dumped lesson plans and copies at her desk. She opened her computer and began checking her e-mail. Her boss, Diana, was on the other side of the module, babbling non-stop on the phone to some student. Jan was absorbed, getting ready for class. 

      Dodi showed up a half hour before class and waved at Jan. 

      “I got the student folders done!” She waved a stack of labeled folders at Jan proudly. 

      “Well… great, Dodi,” Jan accepted the folders. “Thanks.” 

      She found a little pushcart and stacked the folders and other copies on top. Pushing the cart to the classroom, she unlocked the door and pushed it in. As she fired up the computer, students wandered in and took seats. 

      A few minutes later, Dodi showed. She stared around the class. A look of aggravation settled on her face. She walked over to Jan.

      “They are supposed to be in alphabetical order!” she hissed. 

     “They found where they wanted to sit, Dodi. I thought it would be okay,” Jan whispered back. Actually, she had completely forgotten about the seating plan. 

      Dodi turned on an angry heel and left the class. Jan continued with the lesson plan.

      At break time, she went back to her desk to grab some supplies. Dean Nancy was still in her office and waved at her. 

     “Jan…” 

     Jan turned and went back to the dean’s office. The look on the dean’s face caused Jan to sit down. The Dean was eating baked broccoli for dinner. 

      “Ah,” the dean put her fork down. “Dodi was in to see me.” Jan felt her face flush. 

      “Jan, I know you are new here and don’t really know how we do things.” She smiled ernestly. “Dodi is a long-term, trusted employee. She was in the military you know, and she just likes to organize things her own way. So,” there was a pause, “I would cooperate with her. We’re just one big family here.” 

      Jan was stunned at this rebuke. Embarrassed, she nodded dumbly and left. Returning to the class, she asked all the students to please stand. She pulled out her attendance cards and called their names in order and had them sit down again, alphabetically. The students looked at her uncertainly but did what they were asked. 

      Dodi sat in a corner of the room. A little smiled played on her lips. 

Continued Part II

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