terrible thing. As was fibbing. She’d dumped Bill because of his hurtful lies. But this was an emergency.
She only needed one small white fib here as a Band-Aid for friendship. Not for herself, but for Angie. God would understand.
She had to invent something as unmysterious as possible to satisfy her pal. Under no circumstances short of torture could
she mention her nocturnal cartage,since it appeared that Angie had not budged. Besides, she couldn’t have been gone long, really. She and the stranger had only
trotted in a circle.
“I had to go to the bathroom,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back, because that’s what you’re supposed to do so
that the good powers up in the sky know that you know the difference between a fib and the truth. “Couldn’t wait.”
“You had to go
out here
?” Angie snapped in disbelief.
“You of all people have the least cause to question that,” Barbie pointed out. “I believe you’d have a bathroom installed
in your Fiat, if it were possible.”
Angie’s teeth clamped shut audibly, though she managed a stunted reply. “You might have mentioned this sudden need to go.
I thought something might have happened to you.”
“All that talk about heads. . .”
“Very funny,” Angie chirped. “You left me alone.”
“I’m sorry, Angie. Truly. I didn’t want to yell back about the lack of facilities or what I was doing. Someone might have
heard and come looking.”
“Hmph! Lack of facilities? You got that right. I swear I’m never going to do that client’s hair again. Or maybe I’ll dye it
orange. See how she likes that. Singles party, my ass!”
“Amen,” Barbie replied. This had been a huge mistake. Except for the strange guy. The thought of a good-bye kiss from him
was making her lips tingle.
“Not working with that woman ever again,” Angie ranted. “Men to die for? Give me a break!”
“Amen,” Barbie repeated, wishing she could cross her arms high enough to cover her chest, where puckered nipples were causing
another round of chills. Pesky nipples had a way of bringing attention elsewhere, much farther south on the female anatomy.
She didn’t want to think about elsewhere. There would be no elsewhere.
“No more singles parties!” Angie all but shouted. Barbie nodded. “Although we haven’t been to one yet, I’m right there with
you.”
“Graveyards.
Pfft
.” Angie was on a roll, and seemed to have bought the excuse Barbie had given. She hadn’t even asked if it was number one
or number two.
“Graveyards might even be worse than singles bars,” Angie went on.
“Oreos are waiting,” Barbie said brightly.
“Oreos are our friends,” Angie agreed.
“Can’t keep our friends waiting.” Barbie tucked her arm inside of Angie’s, deciding she had made the best choice after all
by returning to her friend. What man actually knew the significance of a moment like this? What man knew the importance of
chocolate to the female psyche, or could compete with it? Probably none.
As she and her friend retraced their steps toward where Barbie hoped the car was parked, it seemed that her eyes were adjusting
to the dark somewhat. Finally. This was a good thing, and better late than never. Others folks might be lurking in all those
bushes, other possible perverts with husky voices, slightly cynical temperaments, and marvelous pecs. Other men who weren’t
afraid to assert themselves with women in order to gain an introduction.
Ya think?
No! No thinking!
It wasn’t her fault she’d been the tiniest bit attracted to her temporary abductor, was it? How many men had she actually
found in the entirety of her dating career with as much potential? Zero, that’s how many. Zippo. Still, her mind warned, since
when had kidnapping, even on a temporary basis, been considered endearing? Never. Since when had kidnapping equated to being
swept off your feet? Since when had your garden-variety pervert begun
She only needed one small white fib here as a Band-Aid for friendship. Not for herself, but for Angie. God would understand.
She had to invent something as unmysterious as possible to satisfy her pal. Under no circumstances short of torture could
she mention her nocturnal cartage,since it appeared that Angie had not budged. Besides, she couldn’t have been gone long, really. She and the stranger had only
trotted in a circle.
“I had to go to the bathroom,” she said, crossing her fingers behind her back, because that’s what you’re supposed to do so
that the good powers up in the sky know that you know the difference between a fib and the truth. “Couldn’t wait.”
“You had to go
out here
?” Angie snapped in disbelief.
“You of all people have the least cause to question that,” Barbie pointed out. “I believe you’d have a bathroom installed
in your Fiat, if it were possible.”
Angie’s teeth clamped shut audibly, though she managed a stunted reply. “You might have mentioned this sudden need to go.
I thought something might have happened to you.”
“All that talk about heads. . .”
“Very funny,” Angie chirped. “You left me alone.”
“I’m sorry, Angie. Truly. I didn’t want to yell back about the lack of facilities or what I was doing. Someone might have
heard and come looking.”
“Hmph! Lack of facilities? You got that right. I swear I’m never going to do that client’s hair again. Or maybe I’ll dye it
orange. See how she likes that. Singles party, my ass!”
“Amen,” Barbie replied. This had been a huge mistake. Except for the strange guy. The thought of a good-bye kiss from him
was making her lips tingle.
“Not working with that woman ever again,” Angie ranted. “Men to die for? Give me a break!”
“Amen,” Barbie repeated, wishing she could cross her arms high enough to cover her chest, where puckered nipples were causing
another round of chills. Pesky nipples had a way of bringing attention elsewhere, much farther south on the female anatomy.
She didn’t want to think about elsewhere. There would be no elsewhere.
“No more singles parties!” Angie all but shouted. Barbie nodded. “Although we haven’t been to one yet, I’m right there with
you.”
“Graveyards.
Pfft
.” Angie was on a roll, and seemed to have bought the excuse Barbie had given. She hadn’t even asked if it was number one
or number two.
“Graveyards might even be worse than singles bars,” Angie went on.
“Oreos are waiting,” Barbie said brightly.
“Oreos are our friends,” Angie agreed.
“Can’t keep our friends waiting.” Barbie tucked her arm inside of Angie’s, deciding she had made the best choice after all
by returning to her friend. What man actually knew the significance of a moment like this? What man knew the importance of
chocolate to the female psyche, or could compete with it? Probably none.
As she and her friend retraced their steps toward where Barbie hoped the car was parked, it seemed that her eyes were adjusting
to the dark somewhat. Finally. This was a good thing, and better late than never. Others folks might be lurking in all those
bushes, other possible perverts with husky voices, slightly cynical temperaments, and marvelous pecs. Other men who weren’t
afraid to assert themselves with women in order to gain an introduction.
Ya think?
No! No thinking!
It wasn’t her fault she’d been the tiniest bit attracted to her temporary abductor, was it? How many men had she actually
found in the entirety of her dating career with as much potential? Zero, that’s how many. Zippo. Still, her mind warned, since
when had kidnapping, even on a temporary basis, been considered endearing? Never. Since when had kidnapping equated to being
swept off your feet? Since when had your garden-variety pervert begun
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