Falling in Love

  So, he already had her phone number. He’d been laying in wait, tipped off, most likely. The Aunt Myrna-elderly-lady dental visit, for which she had taken time off to drive her, coincided with his days off, or they might never have met.

  At least she had some idea of who was calling.

  She was going to kill Melanie. She was going to slice Mel’s throat. Vicki pictured it in her head.

  Mel!

  How could you.

  Slice.

  That was a bit harsh, but really.

  His voice on the phone was warm and kind.

  Her low-life boyfriend of three months, Enrico, had latched onto some big-busted red-haired girl and dumped Vicki with a heartless cruelty that said much about him. It was in fact a synopsis of their short, brief and ultimately nasty relationship. That was six weeks ago. She was still getting over him, which was an irrational response, but one that was not exactly unheard-of.

  Yes, at one time she had found Enrico attractive. Perhaps that could be put down to her own insecurity or something, plus the fact that he was not-overly-repulsively-ugly.

  They should name a syndrome after it or something.

  The well-known, and fairly common, not-overly-repulsively-ugly syndrome.

  A lot of girls had it, or so she told herself.

  “So, anyway, I was wondering if you would maybe like to go out. I’d love to take you out to dinner, or something like that. You know. Something romantic. Maybe we could go to a movie, or a dance club, whatever.”

  “Dance club?”

  “Well, yeah. You know. Places where people go to dance, I mean, really dance. There are one or two non-alcoholic places we could go, and I know at least one little after-hours place. It’s not dry, but it’s not a tough crowd. Nothing like that…I wouldn’t want to take you someplace that’s not real nice.”

  Sure beats pitchers of watery draft beer, and peanut shells on the floor, while you sit with a bunch of other hardened bimbos and our boyfriend plays pool and tries to act tough, which he wasn’t, particularly.

  Incidentally, your man is flirting with anything that moves…

  “Ah, what the hell. Sure. Why not.”

  “Really?” Steven seemed to sort of sit up, if that was possible on the other end of the phone.

  It probably was, she thought.

  “You really mean that?”

  “Yes. I will go out with you.”

  What the hell. Any man who threw chocolate at a girl couldn’t be all bad.

  It wasn’t a bad approach, when you got right down to it, and much more thoughtful than Enrico’s ‘yo-yo, bitch,’ style of approach.

  How she ever managed to fall for someone like Enrico was a very good question.

  Scene Three

  Ten years had gone by, and, oh, how those years had flown.

  Steve was working the night shift down at the refinery.

  Vicki and the girls, Melissa, nine years old, and Danae, who was just turning seven, were having a fun sleepover. At least until they dropped off, at which point she’d tiptoe off to the master bedroom.

  “…and so that’s how your father and I met.”

  “…eeeeuuuwww. But, I guess it is kind of romantic.” That was Melissa’s verdict. “I’ve often wondered what you saw in him.”

  Wise before her time, Melissa was, and Vicki colored slightly, reaching out and patting her on the back of the hand.

  That’s a good girl.

  Danae looked at her mother with solemn eyes, unwavering in their serious regard. They were on the bed sitting cross-legged and Vicki sat sideways on the end.

  They’d been telling each other all kinds of mad stories.

  “And so that’s why you love him, Mommy?” Danae’s logic was impeccable these days.

  Moisture filled Vicki’s eyes for some reason.

  “Aw, yeesh.” Melissa rolled her eyes.

  “Yes. That’s why Mommy and Daddy love each other.”

  Danae looked at Melissa. Some of the heroine-worship for her older sister was already fading.

  She looked back at her mother.

  They would soon be rivals, they would almost certainly become squabbling teenagers, spoiled and neurotic adults possibly, but one never knew. Although, she really didn’t think so. Not with these two. They were a couple of well-balanced maniacs, and Danae was about as precocious as all get out.

  That would, at least partially, be the influence of her older sister, and one or two crazy aunts, no doubt.

  “That doesn’t seem very logical.” Danae shook her head firmly and Melissa snickered.

  Melissa looked at her mom.

  “All right, all right. Wise guys, eh. What else ya got for us?”

  Vicki threw her head back and laughed out loud.

  She had no regrets, not at all, and as for that Enrico guy—what a slime-bucket he turned out to be. He was reputed to be into crime, (it was in the papers) and he had been sent away for armed robbery, not too long after she met Steve. She had no idea of what happened to the busty girl. From time to time she saw someone around town, someone who was getting a little older now, but one who clearly resembled the girl she remembered. It might have been her. They never gave each other a passing glance, but it was a small town and people figured things out after a while.

  Things might have turned out a whole lot different. Some folks just have no idea, but luckily for her she did.

  She had a very good idea of how things might have gone.

  “I’ve got an idea.” It was still early yet. “Who wants chocolate?”

  “Yay!”

  The girls clapped and cheered in agreement.

  She’d hit the nail right on the head with that one.

  End

  About the Author

  Constance ‘Dusty’ Miller has written fiction, non-fiction and worked for newspapers and magazines, even working for a brief stint as sports editor of a small-town weekly. She likes to make people laugh as well as think. Her erotica has strong qualities of literary romance. Out of work and recovering from a life-threatening illness, someone suggested writing erotica which she initially rejected for lack of confidence. But love makes the world go around, and Dusty can no longer deny its pull. Dusty squeezes a little writing in between raising a daughter and building up her business.

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