sizes, she slipped out of the larger and looked around for a hanger.
She hesitated for a moment, frowned and stared off into the middle distance of the mirror. She carefully folded both outfits and placed them in the center of the floor. And then, Martha Dennison, member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, Past President of the Florida Chapter of the Order of the Eastern Star, volunteer at the Trinidad Memorial Hospital, past Girl Scout Leader, mother of three beautiful children and wife of George Dennison, city council member and a respected CAP, did the most extraordinary thing.
She slid her panties down, squatted with her feet apart and urinated quietly onto the neat pile of brand new clothing.
When Amanda came out of the fitting room, Martha was waiting for her next to the aisle.
“It just doesn’t fit right, Mama. It’s too baggy around the waist. Come on, let’s find the little girl’s room.”
“All right, sugar, if you have to.”
“But, Mama, you said you had to.”
Martha frowned and shook her head slowly. “Not me, sugar. You must have misunderstood.” She took a deep breath and smiled brightly. “Let’s go get something to eat. As your father always says, shopping is hungry work.”
Blackbeard’s Cove was between the Heron Key Marina and the Flying Bridge Boatel. It was filled to capacity and there was a one-hour wait for a table. In keeping with the name of the place, the décor was designed to resemble the deck of an ancient privateer. A life-sized statue of Blackbeard, complete with cutlass and eye patch, stood in the corner at the end of the bar and glared down on the drinkers. In the dining room, four tables were pushed together near a window that overlooked the cove. Norbert Hicks sat at the head with his wife on his left. Then came Manning and Naomi Richards, the mayor and first lady respectively; Gerhart Kable, Chief of Police, and his wife, Virginia; Otto and Shirley Klein, owners of the Trinidad Probe ; Michael Penton, Mall Manager, and his wife Luella. Hicks had thrown the party as a celebration. Gerhart wondered why he had been invited but had no doubt that, somehow, Virginia had engineered the invitation.
The food was fantastic. Each member of the party had partaken of a different meal and the chef was voted a genius by one and all. The waitress was now clearing away the empty plates and dishes.
“How about dessert, folks?” she asked as she whisked the used dinnerware onto a wheeled cart. “There’s an absolutely fabulous chocolate mousse this evening.”
Everyone groaned and looked around the table at the other guests.
Norbert Hicks raised a hand. “What the hell,” he said, “in for a dime, in for a dollar. I may have to slip most of it into my pocket, but I never could pass up chocolate. How about you, sweetie?” he asked, turning to Sheila.
Everyone, with the exception of Naomi Richards, nodded in agreement. Naomi was as tall lying down as she was standing up and was a new member of Weight Watchers. The waitress thanked them and headed for the kitchen with their final order.
Manning Richards leaned forward, picked up his coffee cup and waved it at the man seated at the head of the table. “I would like to propose a toast to old Norbert, here. Thanks to his judgment and foresight, Trinidad may finally be on the map!”
Everybody raised a glass and drank a toast to a beaming Norbert. Sheila Hicks smiled beatifically at her husband as she slipped off a shoe, stuck a toe under the mayor’s trouser cuff and rubbed a bare foot up and down his leg. Richards almost dropped his glass but, being a professional politician, managed to immediately regain control while casting a furtive glance at his attacker.
The waitress returned with nine orders of chocolate mousse.
It was a little after 3:00 A.M. when the first cramp hit Gerhart. He sat straight up wondering what was wrong. Suddenly he knew. He leaped from the bed and galloped for the bathroom,
She hesitated for a moment, frowned and stared off into the middle distance of the mirror. She carefully folded both outfits and placed them in the center of the floor. And then, Martha Dennison, member of the Daughters of the American Revolution, Past President of the Florida Chapter of the Order of the Eastern Star, volunteer at the Trinidad Memorial Hospital, past Girl Scout Leader, mother of three beautiful children and wife of George Dennison, city council member and a respected CAP, did the most extraordinary thing.
She slid her panties down, squatted with her feet apart and urinated quietly onto the neat pile of brand new clothing.
When Amanda came out of the fitting room, Martha was waiting for her next to the aisle.
“It just doesn’t fit right, Mama. It’s too baggy around the waist. Come on, let’s find the little girl’s room.”
“All right, sugar, if you have to.”
“But, Mama, you said you had to.”
Martha frowned and shook her head slowly. “Not me, sugar. You must have misunderstood.” She took a deep breath and smiled brightly. “Let’s go get something to eat. As your father always says, shopping is hungry work.”
Blackbeard’s Cove was between the Heron Key Marina and the Flying Bridge Boatel. It was filled to capacity and there was a one-hour wait for a table. In keeping with the name of the place, the décor was designed to resemble the deck of an ancient privateer. A life-sized statue of Blackbeard, complete with cutlass and eye patch, stood in the corner at the end of the bar and glared down on the drinkers. In the dining room, four tables were pushed together near a window that overlooked the cove. Norbert Hicks sat at the head with his wife on his left. Then came Manning and Naomi Richards, the mayor and first lady respectively; Gerhart Kable, Chief of Police, and his wife, Virginia; Otto and Shirley Klein, owners of the Trinidad Probe ; Michael Penton, Mall Manager, and his wife Luella. Hicks had thrown the party as a celebration. Gerhart wondered why he had been invited but had no doubt that, somehow, Virginia had engineered the invitation.
The food was fantastic. Each member of the party had partaken of a different meal and the chef was voted a genius by one and all. The waitress was now clearing away the empty plates and dishes.
“How about dessert, folks?” she asked as she whisked the used dinnerware onto a wheeled cart. “There’s an absolutely fabulous chocolate mousse this evening.”
Everyone groaned and looked around the table at the other guests.
Norbert Hicks raised a hand. “What the hell,” he said, “in for a dime, in for a dollar. I may have to slip most of it into my pocket, but I never could pass up chocolate. How about you, sweetie?” he asked, turning to Sheila.
Everyone, with the exception of Naomi Richards, nodded in agreement. Naomi was as tall lying down as she was standing up and was a new member of Weight Watchers. The waitress thanked them and headed for the kitchen with their final order.
Manning Richards leaned forward, picked up his coffee cup and waved it at the man seated at the head of the table. “I would like to propose a toast to old Norbert, here. Thanks to his judgment and foresight, Trinidad may finally be on the map!”
Everybody raised a glass and drank a toast to a beaming Norbert. Sheila Hicks smiled beatifically at her husband as she slipped off a shoe, stuck a toe under the mayor’s trouser cuff and rubbed a bare foot up and down his leg. Richards almost dropped his glass but, being a professional politician, managed to immediately regain control while casting a furtive glance at his attacker.
The waitress returned with nine orders of chocolate mousse.
It was a little after 3:00 A.M. when the first cramp hit Gerhart. He sat straight up wondering what was wrong. Suddenly he knew. He leaped from the bed and galloped for the bathroom,
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