Red RosesA Story by WoodySarah's leading a wild life. She's finally found the right man.Sarah kicked the door
shut with the back of her foot, tossed her keys and handbag on the table by the
door and made a bee line for the kitchen. She opened the fridge and, arms
akimbo, contemplated its contents. She jumped as something brushed her leg. “Jesus, Snowy! Can’t you
meow like all the other cats? Don’t you sneak up on me like that, you silly
girl.” The white Persian cat looked
up with round eyes and emitted a soft meow. “Yeah, right. A bit late
don’t you think?” Sarah scooped up the cat
with one hand and took a bottle of white wine from the fridge. She poured a
hefty measure in a wine glass and, Glass in hand, she went to the living room,
kicking off her shoes on the way. Sarah sat on her
recliner, put Snowy on her lap, took a long swallow and deposited her glass on
the low coffee table by her side. She leant her head on the headrest and closed
her eyes. She absent-mindedly stroked the cat, which purred contentedly. “Why’s my life in
shambles, Snowy?” she asked the feline. Snowy turned to Sarah, blinked once then closed her eyes as if to say there she goes again! “Why do I seem to
attract the wrong guys? I’m not a bad sort, am I? All I want is a kind soul,
someone to lean on, someone to hold my hand and love me for what I am, not for
my physical attributes.” The purring increased in
volume as if to drown out the woman’s voice. Truth is, Sarah was what
you’d call a looker. With her flamboyant ginger hair, freckles, upturned nose
and her twinkling blue eyes, she could never pass unnoticed wherever she went. “Could Willy be the one,
Snowy? Of course I’ve only known him for a week, but he’s never tried any
monkey business. He’s always been so sweet, caring and.. and.. well, I like
him. Unlike that b*****d. I don’t even remember his name.” She shuddered inwardly.
Images of that terrible night came unbidden. She’d had one over the eight. He’d
made eye contact, smiled and she’d crumbled. He was good looking. That much she
remembered. He’d taken her outside, behind a dumpster, in a dark alley and….
She shook her head. How could she fall so low? And then she’d driven home,
completely wasted. It’s a wonder she hadn’t killed anybody or herself. It was a
good thing that a cop stopped her. She saw the flashing red and blue lights of
the police car and pulled over. That part she remembered quite well. The cop, a young man no
older than 22 or 23, swaggered towards her car, hand on his holstered gun and,
like the cops in American movies, said: “keep your hands where I
can see them.” (I’ve always wanted to used this line in a story) “Good evening Oshifer,”
slurred Sarah. “License and
registration please, Ma’m.” “Sure. Here. Washa
problem?” “Step out of the vehicle,
please, Ma’m and wait right there.” The young cop went back
to his car and returned with a breathalyzer. “Here. Blow in here,
please.” “Do I really have to?” “I’m afraid so, Ma’m. Smells
like you’ve been drinking.” “Oh, jush a glash o’
wine white with a friend. But if you inshisht, here.” The policeman looked at
the apparatus and whistled. “Looks like you’ve had a
stiff one tonight, Ma’m.” “Oh! Does that show as
well?” The doorbell mercifully pulled her out of her reverie. Puzzled, she went to open the door thinking it
was certainly Sandra come for a drink and a chinwag. Sarah looked through the
peephole and her heartbeat accelerated. There, on the stoop, was Willy, her new
beau. He clearly had an embarrassed smile on his face and appeared to be fidgeting.
She opened the door with a smile of her own. “Good evening Sarah,” he
said, “I hope I haven’t come at a bad time.” “Uh.. no.. uh.. not at
all. I’m glad you came. Please come in.” Like a conjuror, Willy brought out a bunch of red roses from behind his back and offered them to Sarah
who couldn’t believe her eyes. Did people still offer roses? How romantic! She
turned around and sprinted towards her bedroom, calling out: “Please come here, Willy!” Slightly intrigued, Willy followed her into the bedroom and found her stark naked (that was quick!) with
her arms and legs spread wide open. Willy’s mouth sagged. “This is for the roses,
Willy,” she declared in a sultry voice. “Don’t be silly,”
replied the stud, “surely you can find a vase somewhere.” © 2015 WoodyFeatured Review
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StatsAuthorWoodyMateur, Bizerte, TunisiaAboutok, time for an update I think. my old friends have come to know me pretty well, I trust so this is for the new comers. I'm a Tunisian 60-year-old teacher-cum-translator, book worm who enjoys writing.. more..Writing
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