(A word of caution: this fiction series may occasionally stray from a PG-13 rating to an R rating. Proceed at your own risk!)
If you missed chapter 13, click here.
If this is your first visit and you want to start at chapter 1, click here.
Another Friday night found Sandy, Elizabeth, and Ginger back on the road to Country Connections. Liz was at the wheel, with Sandy riding shotgun, and Ginger was in the back seat. The radio was blaring Billy Joel’s “It’s Still Rock and Roll to Me,” and the three women were singing along. The awkwardness between Sandy and Ginger had evaporated during the week at work, and all seemed back to normal. The song ended and they burst into laughter.
“Well, who’s gonna’ get lucky tonight?” asked Ginger, with a grin. “Let’s hope we meet some hot guys who appreciate us!”
“I’d be happy just to meet a guy with a brain and a job; that would make him ‘hot’ to me!” exclaimed Liz. “I want someone I can carry on a conversation with about something other than the best brand of beer or the advantages of smoking pot.”
“I hear you,” agreed Sandy. “I want someone who has a brain and is looking for a relationship, not just a quick roll in the hay.”
“Amen!” added Liz.
“At this point, I could go for a quick roll in the hay, and worry about conversation later. I want a man who speaks to my body right now; I’ll look for my soul mate later,” declared Ginger. “I’ve been celibate for months, and not by choice! I think I’m going through withdrawal!”
At this, Sandy and Liz roared with laughter. “You’re terrible, Ginger,” teased Sandy.
“I’m just telling it like it is, ladies. If you don’t use it, you lose it, you know.”
“If that’s the case, then I lost it ages ago,” wailed Liz. That comment sent them into a fit of giggles as she pulled into the parking lot at Country Connections. The lights around the porch were bright and inviting, as was the ‘Welcome’ sign on the roof. They were running a little later than usual tonight, and their usual parking spaces were taken. Finally, Liz parked the car near the back of the lot, and the women climbed out, brimming with expectation for whatever was waiting inside the doors of the pleasure palace.
There was already a good-sized crowd inside, and as soon as they had paid their $5.00 admission and received their hand stamps, they hurried to get a good table. A good table, of course, was one with empty chairs near the dance floor; your chances of getting asked to dance increased with your proximity to the dance floor. Only the bravest male souls would venture far into the space between the tables close to the wall, lest they be rejected and have to walk the ‘path of shame’ back to the dance floor. Most of the women had this figured out already, so the good seats went fast.
Patty Blanchette was belting out a countrified version of “This Crazy Little Thing Called Love” to the accompaniment of the Sidewinders, and couples were already going to town on the dance floor. After a couple of hours of dancing, Ginger came limping back to the table, holding her shoe in her hand.
“Will you look at this?” she moaned, holding out the culprit with the broken heel. “I paid good money for these! I can’t believe this is the second damned heel I’ve ruined.”
Elizabeth and Sandy examined the shoe sympathetically. “What will you do now? Dance in your stocking feet?” asked Sandy.
“Well, I was afraid my feet would ache in these new shoes, so I brought an extra pair. They’re in the car. Can I have the keys, Liz?”
Without hesitation, Elizabeth dug in her purse until she pulled out the keys to her Lumina and tossed them to Ginger, a move she would later regret.
“Thanks! I’ll be right back.” With that, Ginger took off for the door and out to the parking lot.(To Be Continued)