Hope you all enjoyed the fireworks over the weekend. My dogs
sure hated the noise, other than that I had a great weekend. Now, let’s get on
with this weeks post.
This week’s phrase came to me when I saw someone stumble
into another person when leaving the coffee house.
Hope you enjoy and remember,
Let your imagination
soar when you read.
Julia
* * * Disclaimer * * *
Scene is Adult Only (Age 18 and up)
* * * Disclaimer * * *
JUST MY LUCK
What was this guy’s problem? First he didn’t look trough the
double, glass doors to see if someone was entering the door he was charging towards.
Topping his rudeness off he shoves the door open and blares into me, all but
sending me onto my ass. All I wanted was a simple Mocha Ice Coffee with no whip
cream. Not a square chinned, tall, blond hair God . . . Okay, maybe the entire
situation wasn’t as bad as I first thought. No woman would mind being ran down
by a hunk.
“Joan? Joan Tesserby” The man tilted his head to the left
then gasped. “It is you. I’ve not seen you in ten years.”
I nodded. What was I to say? I let him tug me inside and out
of the flow of entering and exiting patrons. No sense in getting ran over while
I tried to figure out who the man was. I sure hadn’t known, not at first.
As he kept on jabbering on about what he did for a living an
image of a matted, long, blond hair guy with slumped shoulders and goofy bell
bottom pants, that was way out of their time period, came to mind. Time sure
had been good to Peter. He no longer appeared to be hampered by his, I am who I am and won’t change for no one,
attitude. Which had matched mine the last time I saw him.
“That’s what I’ve been up to, how about you?” Peter’s blue
eyes sparkled as he leaned against the wall.
Another stumping question, I hadn’t accomplished a lot since
graduating high school and ended our high school relationship. Not so much as a
relationship, more like two teenagers experimenting with this and that. Main
item on the experimental list had been sex. Peter sure knew how to please a
woman.
I ran my hand down the newly pressed business skirt, which I
hoped snag me the office assistant job I was interviewing for in an hour. If
not . . . I was going to be living on the streets instead of buying me a way to
expensive coffee.
I glanced at my watch and frowned. There was no time for a
coffee. “I’m afraid I’ve got to be going. Wish I could stay and chat, but I’ve
got to get to Hanger Office in half an hour.”
“Sure.” Peter tugged a business card from his pocket. “Give
me a call and we’ll catch up.”
“Sounds great.” I took the card and headed back to my car.
As I cranked up I laid the card in the seat beside me and
caught a glimpse of the Hanger Company logo. I stanched it up and read it.
Peter Whitmore
Hanger Company
Vice President
I banged my head against the steering wheel. “Double shit, he’ll
be my boss.”
* * *
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