(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)
EVA
