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A tall and slender woman stood on the shore of
a crystal sea. The woman appeared to be young, no
more than twenty-five, but she had been alive longer
than any man. She was a Siren, born in the time
of ancient Greece. She stood on the white sand beneath
a cloudless sky, wearing nothing at all, her long
blonde hair hanging halfway down her bare back.
She dipped her toes in the salt water and pressed
her heels into the wet sand. After a long day of
sweltering heat, the cool sand felt soothing to
the Siren’s feet.
>>The Siren’s
eyes were blue, brighter than the blue sky above
her. She stared blankly across the sea, like one
waiting for a long lost lover to return. She squinted
her eyes as she looked at the Sun, enjoying the
warmth of its rays as it slowly sank in the sky.
Soon it would turn the horizon red.
>>The Siren turned
and walked several yards back from the shore. She
sat on a silver chair, and adjusted her hair so
her long locks hung halfway down her chest, partially
covering her breasts. She placed her fingers on
the strings of a golden harp, and played a heavenly
melody, singing in a language not known to any man,
but if any man had heard it, he would have been
instantly enchanted.
>>The Siren felt
a mystical connection to the crystal sea; it had
been her constant companion for countless centuries.
As the woman of beauty played her song, she remembered
the many sea captains who sailed by her island,
staring at her as she stood naked on the sand. Some
of those captains abandoned their ships to rescue
her. Those captains were never seen again.
>>When the Siren
finished her song, she returned to the water’s
edge, and walked to a depth just above her waist.
She stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and
raised her hands to the sky. When her breasts dipped
below the surface, she did not swim, but sang a
new song, and kept on walking until she disappeared
entirely from view.
******
Bob Hule stood before a door. Behind that door
was his boss, Mr. Butt, a man he always dreaded
to meet with. But there was no escape for Bob. He
had been summoned, and he knew he had no choice
but to face the mean man. He knocked three times,
his heart fluttering with fear.
>>“Who is
it?” Mr. Butt said from within, irritated at
being interrupted.
>>“It’s
me, Sir,” Bob said with a frog in his throat.
>>Bob opened
the door and sat on a wooden chair across from a
big black desk. He was wearing a white French-cuff
dress shirt and navy pants, his armpits dripping
like a maple tree tap in spring. He placed his sweaty
palms on his thighs.
>>Seated behind
the desk was Mr. Butt, a middle-aged man with a
receding hairline, and a rapidly expanding waistline.
He was a big man with a belly like a minor planet,
a perfect sphere from drinking five-hundred beers
a year. Some of the buttons on his white dress shirt
appeared ready to pop.
>>Mr. Butt didn’t
look up when Bob entered his office. The company
President was captivated, making complex calculations
with his calculator. Bob waited patiently for the
fat man to finish.
>>Mr. Butt was
the founder of Thorne, Horne, and Butt, the largest
accounting firm in Loaferville. Like Bob, he had
dark-brown hair and stood six-feet-tall. Unlike
Bob, Mr. Butt was not handsome, although he might
have been when he was Bob’s age nearly thirty
years ago. Bob was an incredibly handsome man, voted
in a newspaper poll as the sexiest guy alive in
Loaferville.
>>Bob fidgeted
in his seat for what seemed like five minutes. He
wondered if his boss forgot that he was there, so
he made a little cough.
>>Mr. Butt finally
looked up. “Oh, it’s you,” he said
with a sigh.
>>“I had
a fabulous weekend, Sir,” Bob said with an
open-mouthed smile. “I went to the coast with
. . . a lovely lady.”
>>Mr. Butt looked
back down at his calculator. “Did you get rid
of that headache you had on Friday?”
>>“Yeah,
it only lasted until . . .” Bob caught himself.
“. . . a couple of hours after I got home.”
>>“Did you
tell Agatha to deduct a half-day from your sick
leave allowance?”
>>“No, I
didn’t, Sir, but I certainly will.”
>>Mr. Butt finished
his calculations, then looked across his desk with
an icy stare. “Let me get straight to the point
with you, Bob. Do you still want to be the managing
partner in Varsity?”
>>“Oh, yeah.
Definitely!” Bob said with enthusiasm. “I've
wanted to be a partner in this firm since the first
day I started.”
>>“Do you
understand what is required to assume that position?”
>>“Me? I
can handle any position, Sir,” Bob said with
a smirk. “I’m a man who has what it takes.”
>>Mr. Butt didn’t
like the smirk on Bob’s face. “Then why
aren't you doing it?” he asked him sternly.
>>Bob’s
smile turned upside down. “What ever do you
mean, Sir?”
>>Mr. Butt slapped
one hand on his desk. Bob was so startled his butt
lifted an inch off his chair.
>>“You get
here at ten to eight every morning. That's good.
You barely take a lunch break. I like that. But
at five o’clock on the nose, zip, you’re
outta here. You’ve got to work the extra hours
it takes to prove you want that promotion.”
>>Bob felt the
accusation was unfair. “But I read at home
every night, Sir. For at least an hour . . . sometimes
even two.”
>>“I’m
glad to hear that,” Mr. Butt said without a
smile. “Studying at home is a basic requirement
for all our employees.”
>>Bob looked
baffled. “So what's the problem then?”
>>“The problem?”
Mr. Butt opened his mouth so wide, the gold crowns
on his back teeth were visible. “The problem
. . . is there hasn't been any additional output
in your performance! If you want to advance your
career, you should follow my example and work a
couple of extra hours like I do each day.”
>>“I’m
sorry, Sir,” Bob said sincerely. “Lucy,
my fiance . . . she really wants me to spend time
with her.”
>>“That’s
not my concern,” Mr. Butt said, cold as ice.
“What concerns me is your duty to this company.”
>>Bob nodded
like a good Boy Scout. “Absolutely, Sir. I
understand duty.” He nodded again. “Totally.”
>>“So what
are you going to do about it?”
>>“I’ll
put in more time. Right away.”
>>“I didn’t
ask you to put in more time.”
>>Bob scratched
his head. “You didn’t?”
>>“No. You
have to choose to do that on your own. I have nothing
to do with your decision.”
>>“I understand,
Sir.”
>>“Understand
we never had this conversation.”
>>“I won’t
remember a thing you just said, Sir.”
>>Mr. Butt looked
down at his calculator. “You can go now.”
>>“Will
do,” Bob said, standing to his feet. “I’ll
be gone in a flash.”
>>Bob stumbled,
tripped over his chair, and his chin hit the floor.
>>Mr. Butt looked
down at the fallen man, and smiled for the first
time. “I hope that girl doesn't distract you
from your most important priorities.”
>>“No, I've
been balancing . . . them very well,” Bob said,
rubbing his carpet-burned chin. “Lucy is a
real beauty. I love everything about her.”
>>“Yes,
I'm sure you do,” Mr. Butt said, not believing
Bob one bit. “My wife, Marnie . . . she’s
good friends with Lucy's mother. You've made one
hell of a financial move if you can marry into that
family. Victor Bigg is loaded.”
>>Bob was filled
with bliss. “Yes, I know. I’m so in love.”
>>“Yes,
well . . . aren’t we’re all . . . with
something,” Mr. Butt said under his breath.
He returned to his calculator. “I’ve got
lots of work to do. Can you do one really important
thing for me?“
>>“Sir,
you just name it. I'm your man.” Bob stood
to his feet like a soldier standing ready.
>>“Get the
hell out of my office and get back to work!”
>>Bob rushed
out of the room like a rat, gently closed the door,
and bolted down the hall. When he was about to enter
the little boy’s room, he suddenly stopped,
and turned his head ninety degrees. His Don Juan
radar had been activated.
The most beautiful woman Bob had ever seen (and
he had seen many) stood smiling at him at the end
of the hall. He stared at the mysterious woman,
enchanted by her beauty. She was tall and shapely
with curves better than Barbie, had long blonde
hair, bright blue eyes, and was wearing a peach-floral
strapless dress.
>>Bob walked
several yards toward her like a man in a trance,
but she suddenly vanished. He stopped, squinted,
rubbed his eyes, and smacked his forehead, but she
was gone like a ghost. Then he remembered the reason
he had been running down the hall, and bolted back
to the little boy’s room to do his business.
******
Bob had only been twenty seconds inside his stall
when two of his co-workers walked in. They laughed
their heads when the heard the loud sound of flatulence
that went on and on like a wild winter wind. But
after two minutes, the winds of Bob finally ceased,
and the toilet flushed.
>>Bob left the
washroom feeling much better, and weighing a pound
or two less. When he entered the hallway, he collided
with Bill Gune, a fellow tax accountant in the firm.
Bill was six-foot-two, pencil-thin, had curly brown
hair, and was pushing forty.
>>“In trouble
with the Boss again?” Bill asked.
>>Bob showed
no sign of being shaken. “No, not at all. Everything's
fine, man. Just dandy.”
>>“I heard
you’ve been going in there a lot lately.”
Bill wanted to know everything about everybody.
“What were you two talking about?”
>>“Oh, nothing
major,” Bob said, acting cool. “He just
had a few questions to ask me. In fact, he needed
my advice.”
>>“Really,
eh?” Bill felt envious. “I wish he'd ask
me . . . Hey, have you heard the latest?”
>>“No, what?”
>>Bill covered
his mouth with one hand and said softly, “A
little birdie told me Thorn, Horne, and Butt is
for sale.”
>>Bob had no
interest in Bill’s rumours. They were usually
wrong. But he decided to play along.
>>“Oh, yeah?
Who told you that?”
>>Bill looked
around to make sure no one was listening. “My
source is Agatha,” he said as if he had just
sold her out.
>>“Don’t
believe a thing Agatha tells you, Bill. The woman
has no clue. Mr. Butt-head would never sell this
firm. He’s making too much moola.”
>>“I don’t
know,” Bill said, confident that the rumour
was true. “Someone else in the office . . .
heard the boss on a telephone call.” Bill nodded
his head up and down like a kid wanting candy.
>>“You pay
too much attention to office gossip, man.”
>>“Fine,”
Bill said in a huff. “I won’t tell you
any other rumours I heard.”
>>“That's
fine by me. I gotta get back to work.”
>>Bill took a
deep breath. “Yeah, me too. I've got a huge
pile of files on my desk. I'll be here late tonight
. . . again.”
>>“You're
always working late, Bill. Why do you do that?”
>>“Hey,
I don't mind. I love my job. Besides, I got nothing
else to do.”
>>“You need
to get a life, man. Get a girlfriend . . . or something.”
>>Even though
Bill was ten years his senior, he looked up to Bob
as if he were his big brother. “Yeah, I know,
but I've never been too lucky with the ladies. I
wish I had your charms.”
>>Bob smiled
proudly. “Doesn’t every man alive?”
******
James Thwarp knocked on the door to Agatha Blahst’s
townhouse. James was twenty-four, stood five-foot-four,
and wore horn-rimmed glasses with lenses thick as
binoculars. His sandy brown hair was cut short and
slicked back with grease. He rubbed his thumbs together,
then knocked on the door again.
>>Agatha, a tall,
gorgeous brunette in her late-twenties finally opened
the door. A black cat stepped out between her feet,
rubbed against James’ leg, and laid down to
sleep. James looked down, then stared into Agatha’s
eyes, and stomped on the cat’s tail. The kitty
shrieked a shrill meow and ran off.
>>“Oh, Angel,
my poor kitty,” Agatha said in shock. “My
poor baby!”
>>James pretended
it was an accident. “Sorry, Agatha, I, I .
. .”
>>“God!
You're such a clutz, James!” Agatha yelled.
“Do you have my money?”
>>“I've
got five hundred.”
>>James opened
his wallet and pulled out the cash. Agatha snatched
the bills out of his hand, nearly tearing them in
two. “That'll do. I’ll pay you back as
quick as I can.”
>>“You were
a little late paying back your last loan,”
James said, feeling used by her.
>>“James,
secretaries like me are very underpaid for the work
we do.”
>>“Just
don’t think I have barrels of money to lend
you.”
>>“Oh, I
think our little arrangement makes my loan totally
worth your while,” Agatha said with a sly smile.
>>James looked
around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Uh,
let's keep that . . . a secret, OK?” he said
softly.
>>“Oh, of
course.” Agatha pinched his arm. “I always
keep secrets.”
>>James pulled
his arm away. “I think you give them away as
fast as you’re told them.”
>>“Whatever,
James,” Agatha scoffed. “You’d better
get going.”
>>“But .
. . I thought you wanted to see me.”
>>Agatha shook
the money in her hand. “I wanted to see you
so you could lend me this cash.”
>>“Yeah,
but why do I have to go now?” James felt rejected.
“I thought maybe I’d hang out with you
for a while.”
>>“Lucy
is coming over soon, and I don’t want her to
see you here.”
>>“Why?
Are you ashamed of me?“
>>“No, not
really. But if she sees you in my townhouse . .
.”
>>“What?”
James felt slighted, and it made him mad.
>>“Well,
you know how rumours get started.”
>>James walked
away. “Fine then. I’ll leave!”
>>As he got in
his Ford Festiva, Agatha called to him: “Pick
me up at seven tonight for the Halloween party.
Don’t forget!”
>>James turned
and yelled, “Yeah, yeah. I'll be on time. Don't
forget you still owe me five more dates after tonight.”
>>Agatha sighed.
“Yes, I'll do . . . my duty for you.”
******
Agatha stepped out of the shower, toweled herself
dry, slipped on a white T-shirt, and a pair of white
boxer shorts with black stripes. Then she wrapped
a pink towel around her head like a turban and darted
out the door.
>>In the living
room on a pink love seat sat Lucy Bigg. She was
twenty-two, five-foot-four, with short blonde hair.
Agatha plopped herself down on the black leather
sofa opposite her friend. A pot of Earl Gray tea
was set between them on a small table. Her black
cat was curled up in the corner of the living room,
licking her wounded tail.
>>“And that's
all he said to you?” Agatha asked with astonishment.
>>“Yes,
isn't it strange?” Lucy looked unsettled. “Agatha,
I really appreciate you letting me come over to
talk about this.”
>>“Don't
worry about it,” Agatha said, flapping her
hand. “My hair can wait until later.”
>>“What
time do you have to go to work today?”
>>“I called
in sick, so we can talk as long as you like.”
>>Lucy paused
for a moment. “I’m not sure if Bob loves
me anymore,” she said sadly.
>>“Really?”
Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you
think that?”
>>“He's
never relaxed when we’re together.”
>>“Maybe
he has something important on his mind,” Agatha
said, trying to reassure her friend. “Have
you asked him?”
>>“Yes,
and he says . . . everything is fine.”
>>“Oh, girl,”
Agatha said, making light of her friend’s concern.
“He’s probably just nervous about the
big day in the spring.”
>>“Agatha,
I think he’s hiding something from me.”
>>Agatha got
up from the sofa and sat next to Lucy on the love
seat. She wrapped one arm around her friend. “Lucy,
my dear,” she said, squeezing her shoulder
to shoulder. “Don't be paranoid.”
>>“He doesn’t
have any time for me lately,” Lucy said, putting
her head in her hands. “He’s always working
late, or studying some tax manual.”
>>“Bob’s
a busy man. Accountants have very heavy work loads.
That's why they get paid the high salaries they
do.”
>>“Yes,
but this is usually the slow time of year. Tax season
doesn’t start until January. Agatha, I think
he’s cheating on me.”
>>“Lucy,”
Agatha said, wiping a tear from her friend’s
cheek. “If you don’t trust him now, how
will you trust him once you’re married?”
>>“I think
he's only marrying me because Daddy has lots of
money. Once we get married, I’ll receive a
quarter of my inheritance -- over one million dollars.”
>>“Well,
I’m sure many men would love you for that.
But I know Bob wouldn’t.”
>>“Do you
think Bob loves me?” Lucy asked, hoping Agatha
was right.
>>“I'm sure
he doesn't love anyone else.”
>>“Does
he ever say nice things about me?” Lucy’s
face brightened a little, like the Sun trying to
break through a black cloud.
>>“No, he's
never said a word about you.” The hope in Lucy’s
heart quickly faded. “But, Lucy,” Agatha
added, seeing how her friend was affected by her
words. “Bob and I aren't great friends or anything.
He doesn't share the intimate details of his life
with me. The more important question is do you love
him?”
>>“Of course
I do,” Lucy said, wondering why Agatha would
even ask such a question.
>>“But is
he really the right man for you?”
>>“Oh, yes!”
Lucy said, remembering the past. “The first
few months of our relationship was like a fairy
tale. He swept me off my feet and made me feel like
a princess . . .” Her brief smile turned upside
down. “But since our engagement in August,
he just hasn't been the same.”
>>“What
are you going to do about it?” Agatha asked,
hoping to find out if Lucy had a plan.
>>“I don’t
know,” Lucy said despondently.
>>“Maybe
you should delay the wedding.”
>>“Oh, Agatha!
How could I? I’d be so ashamed. How could I
ever face my father?”
>>“Victor
doesn’t like Bob, does he?” Agatha already
knew the answer to her question.
>>“No, not
at all,” Lucy said, shaking her head. “I’ve
fought so hard for Daddy to accept him. He thinks
Bob’s a selfish and venal man who will do anything
for a buck. If I tell him I’m not sure if Bob
loves me, he’ll remind me how foolish I was
for proposing to him.”
>>“But how
would you face your father if you married Bob, he
spent all your money, and then asked you for a divorce?”
>>“Do you
think he would do such a thing?” Lucy looked
terrified. “You doubt his love for me, too!”
>>“I didn’t
say that,” Agatha said defensively.
>>“I’ve
got to do something.” Lucy’s hands started
to shake. “Deep down I just know he's seeing
someone else.”
>>“Why don’t
you ask him to sign a prenuptial agreement?”
>>“No, no,
I could never do that. I brought up that idea once,
and he accused me of not loving him. I don’t
want him to doubt my love for him.”
>>“I hope
he hasn’t deceived you. Would you like another
cup of tea?”
>>“No. Thank
you though.” Lucy touched the back of her friend’s
hand. “Please promise me you won’t tell
anyone what I've told you.”
>>“Oh, Lucy!
Why would I? You know you can trust me.”
>>“I know.
You’re my best friend, Agatha. You’re
the only person in my life I truly trust.”
>>“I’m
so glad for our friendship.” Agatha gave Lucy
a warm hug.
>>“I have
to go.” Lucy got up from the love seat.
>>“You’ve
decided something then?”
>>“Yes,
I’m going to ask Bob if he’s seeing another
woman.”
>>Agatha followed
her friend to the door. “That’s very bold.
I hope you get the answer you're looking for.”
>>“I just
hope I find out the truth . . . I'll call you later,
OK?”
>>“Yes,
please do. But whatever happens, Lucy, I'm sure
it will be for the best.”
>>“Yes,
I hope so . . . Bye.”
>>As soon as
Lucy was gone, Agatha ran like a rocket to the kitchen,
and dialed a number on her wall-mounted phone. “Yes,
extension 333 please.” She fidgeted while waiting
for her call to be connected. “We have to talk.
About Lucy. I don’t care if you're busy. This
is important. She's on her way to see you? How can
that be? Well, get out of there fast and meet me
here. Why not? OK. I’ll be there at four.”
******
Agatha stood shivering outside the door to Bob’s
house. The black cashmere sweater she was wearing
wasn’t enough to keep her warm, and the cold
air felt even colder because she forgot to put on
a bra. She pressed the buzzer a second time.
>>Inside the
house, Bob sat on the stairs, reading a letter,
and ignored the buzzing as if it were a bee. When
Agatha buzzed a third time, he slipped the letter
into his pant pocket, walked down the stairs, and
opened the door. He craned his head out and looked
from left to right. When he was sure no one was
watching, he grabbed Agatha, and yanked her inside.
She tried to embrace him, but he pushed her back.
>>“What’s
all this about?” Bob said in a huff. “Mr.
Butt-head hates it when I take off early.”
>>“Lucy
is going to confront you today.”
>>Bob looked
nervous. “She doesn’t know about us, does
she?”
>>“No, but
she thinks you’re seeing someone.”
>>“Wh, wh
. . .” Bob stuttered. “Why would she think
that?”
>>“Well,
you have been a little busy lately with your beautiful
B-O-S-S,” Agatha said, spelling out the word,
and wrapping her arms around him.
>>Bob broke free
from her grip. “None of that right now. This
is serious.”
>>“Relax,”
Agatha said calmly. “There’s nothing to
worry about.”
>>“What
do I say to her?”
>>“Just
deny it.”
>>Bob scoffed
at her suggestion. “And that will solve her
doubts?”
>>“Tell
her you love her then. Show her some affection.”
>>“And that
won’t bother you?”
>>“I know
you’re only marrying her so you can spend her
inheritance. Besides, you promised me you would
divorce her in a year and marry me.”
>>“Yes .
. . that’s true,” Bob said softly.
>>“Then
what’s the problem?”
>>“I never
thought she would doubt my love for her. What if
she finds out about us?”
>>“She won’t.”
>>“God,
I hope not.” Bob closed his eyes, fearing the
worst.
>>“And what
if she does? You won’t have her money, but
you’ll still have me.”
>>“There’s
much more at stake here, Agatha.”
>>“Like
what?” Agatha asked, offended that anything
could be more important than their relationship.
>>“I’ll,
uh, lose credibility with the company,” Bob
said weakly. “Mr. Butt-head and Victor are
best buddies. I can’t let Lucy find out about
us or I, I . . . could get fired.”
>>Agatha flapped
her hand. “Oh, don't be silly. Mr. Butt would
never do that. Besides, Lucy is so naive. She’ll
never figure it out.”
>>They both turned
their heads at the sound of the buzzer. Agatha looked
through the eyehole.
>>“Who is
it?” Bob whispered.
>>“Who do
you think it is, stupid?”
>>Bob pulled
Agatha from the door and looked for himself. “Why
is she here this early? I’m not home from work
until five.” He pushed Agatha into the living
room. >>“Quick!
Go hide in the backyard.”
>>Agatha scurried
to the kitchen, opened the sliding door, and stepped
outside. She sat on a patio chair and shivered in
the cold air.
>>Bob took a
deep breath and opened the door with a big grin.
“Hello, my darling!” he said, his face
full of love.
>>Lucy was wearing
a white winter coat. “Bob, are you OK?”
she asked with concern. “I went to your office,
but you weren't there.”
>>“Yeah,
I had a headache.” Bob rubbed his forehead.
“The Boss told me to go home early.”
>>Lucy closed
the door and unzipped her coat, revealing a white
blouse. “I have something really important
to ask you.”
>>“Oh?”
Bob said, acting surprised. “What would that
be, my dear?”
>>“I need
to know if you love me,” Lucy said, staring
into his eyes.
>>Bob squirmed
in his shirt and suddenly felt itchy all over. “Lucy,
you know I love you,” he said, scratching the
back of his neck. His fiance’s eyes were like
two magnets, pulling him in. “Why else would
I agree to marry you?”
>>“I want
to believe you love me, but I don’t think you
do anymore.”
>>“What?”
Bob blurted. “That's crazy!” He scratched
his armpits like an ape.
>>“The last
few weeks we haven’t spent much time together.
You’re always busy studying tax manuals, or
running off to an urgent meeting with Mr. Butt.”
>>“Things
are really hectic at the office, dear.”
>>“But I
thought this was the slow time of year.”
>>Bob lowered
his voice. “Working extra hours increases the
odds the Boss will promote me to Varsity. You understand
that don’t you?”
>>“I guess.
I . . .”
>>“Lucy,
you want to move there just as much as I do,”
Bob reminded her. “You want to get away from
your over-controlling father, don’t you?”
>>“Yes,
I guess, but I feel neglected. We hardly see each
other anymore.”
>>“Lucy,
my pretty pigeon! I’ve been working very hard
. . . and it’s all for you.”
>>Bob reached
to hold Lucy, but she stepped back. “Don't,”
she said sharply. >>“This
is serious. I think you’re seeing another woman.”
She stared into his eyes. >>“You
are, aren't you?”
>>“Oh, come
on,” Bob laughed, as if the accusation were
absurd. “Don’t be silly!”
>>“Tell
me the truth,” Lucy said firmly, girding herself
with what little strength she had left. “Are
you in love with someone else?”
>>“No, of
course not!” Bob declared. “I don't love
any other woman in the world . . . And that’s
the honest to God truth.”
>>Lucy was speechless.
“Oh . . . I’m sorry,” she finally
said, her voice cracking up. “I . . . I just
had to ask you. I don’t feel loved.”
>>Bob gave Lucy
a big bear hug, twirled her in half-circles, then
let her go, and stared at her up and down. “Lucy,
you are like a buttercup that is fully in bloom.
I love every single thing about you. In fact, you
mean more to me than any woman I’ve ever known.
Never doubt that.”
>>“OK. I’ll
try not to,” Lucy said with tears in her eyes.
“Will you promise not to work any longer than
you have to?”
>>“For you,
Lucy, I would do anything.”
>>“Let’s
do something special tonight,” Lucy said, stroking
his hairy arm. “How about dinner at the Three
Rivers Inn?”
>>“I can’t,”
Bob said flatly.
>>Lucy pouted.
“Why not?”
>>“I, uh,
have to study some interpretation bulletins.”
>>“Let's
go to Burger Hell and get takeout then.”
>>“I can’t,
I . . . um.” Bob’s brain went blank.
>>“Why not?”
>>“Because
. . .” Bob froze. He had to think fast. “I’m
having dinner with the Boss to discuss . . . a proposal.”
>>“Oh, I
see,” Lucy said sadly. “Maybe I should
go then.”
>>“I’m
sorry, dear,” Bob said, putting one hand on
his forehead. “My headache . . . I really should
lie . . . down.”
>>“OK. Call
me when you're feeling better.”
>>“I will,”
he promised. “Just remember . . . my self-sacrifice
is all for Varsity . . . and all for you.”
>>Lucy opened
the door to leave. “Take two Tylenol, OK?”
>>“Ibuprofen
works better, my dear!”
>>“Bye,”
Lucy said, blowing Bob a kiss.
>>Bob caught
the kiss and clenched it in his fist. He heard the
sound of the sliding door in the kitchen being opened.
“I'll call you . . . when my pain has left
me.”
>>Bob watched
Lucy walk to her car, then slammed the door shut,
and closed his eyes, breathing a deep sigh of relief.
Agatha tip-toed up behind him and tapped him on
the shoulder. He turned and watched her take off
her sweater. She had bigger boobs than the Siren.
Even bigger than Barbie. And she wasn’t wearing
anything underneath.
CONTINUED...
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