Dance of the Crystal by Cris Anson

colleges, but managed to be as close as twins during the separation. Deirdra had come back to the area and ran a successful New Age shop, Good Vibrations, in Bryn Mawr. One didn’t need to explain the power of crystals to Deirdra Zinman.
    “Now. Lose those white cotton briefs. Here.” She held up a bikini bottom whose minuscule front and back patches of lace seemed held together with almost invisible elastic.
    “What, no thong?” Crystal asked, only half jokingly.

    “Ick. Thongs go all the way up to your waist. Yeah, they make your legs look longer, but the newest look is a pair of panties that are so low down on your hips that you can see your butt crack.”
    She tossed the garment to Crystal. “It’s a visual thing. Makes him think how much easier it is to pull them down.”
    Crystal groaned. “If you’re trying to convince me to wear it…”
    “Just do as I say. Time’s getting short.” Deirdra reached for the outfit she had browbeaten Crystal into wearing—a cream-colored sweater cropped at the waist, a row of tiny buttons down the front, a sweetheart neckline displaying a modest amount of cleavage, and a low-rise pair of snug stovepipe jeans with high-heeled slides.
    “I can’t,” Crystal gasped when she got everything zipped and buttoned. “There’s too much of my midriff showing.”
    “Not.” Deirdre folded her arms across her chest like a stern librarian. “It’s just right. Don’t you browse through the fashion magazines at the supermarket checkout counter? I could have gotten you one with a two-inch rise. This one’s mild compared to some of the styles.”
    The frown deepened between Crystal’s brows. “I don’t think…”
    “Good. Don’t think. Just do.”
    Crystal huffed out a breath that tickled a curly tress dangling down her forehead. “But isn’t this…overkill?”
    “My great-granddaddy used to tell me that before you can make a mule obey, you have to get his attention. That’s why he always carried a two-by-four when he went into the mountains. Sounds like our Soren is like that mule. We’re just getting his attention.”
    She put her hands on Crystal’s shoulders and twirled her toward the bedroom door. “Now go, before you’re late!”
    “Okay, okay.” She descended the stairs with Deirdre at her heels. Reaching the closet at the front door, she pulled out her raincoat. “It’s supposed to get cold tonight.”
    “Ew, not that ratty old thing. Here. Take this.” Deirdre scooped up her trendy vest, a rabbit-fur front and knitted back that skimmed the hips. “Just make sure to take it off in the restaurant. Don’t forget, you do want to make an impression on the man.”
    Crystal rolled her eyes. “Yes, Mommy.”
    As they descended the porch steps to their respective cars, Deirdre called out, “And don’t come back until noon tomorrow!”

    * * * * *
“Boy, are you antsy tonight!”
    Soren checked his watch again, then wiped down a spotless section of the bar, giving Trang a gimlet eye. “No, I’m not.”
    The assistant bartender shook her head. “You’ve barked at the chef twice for burning the burgers, you damn near bit off the head of that new waitress for getting the beer orders wrong, and you’ve gone out back to pee several times. Now what gives?”
    “Just being the boss.”
    “You’d better adjust your attitude, or you’ll be the boss over nothing.”
    When he merely raised an eyebrow, she added, “Everyone’ll quit.”
    Talk about being on the horns of a dilemma. On the one hand, Soren wanted to do this right here, on his home turf, where he felt most comfortable. He knew the abundant selection of beers on tap was top-drawer and the food hearty and tasty. On the other hand, Trang and everyone else would be all over them if he brought Crystal here. He could just imagine them hovering around the booth, pretending to offer good service while eavesdropping on whatever conversation he might manage to have with her. No way, uh-uh.
    So he’d