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Sally had taken an eternity to get herself all 'glammed up' for tonight's venue.
Should she wear the red dress or the black...the boots or the high-heels. Life was full of such complications, but surely it was worth it for Paul Saunders.
Paul Saunders, bachelor of this parish with brooding good looks that could turn your knees to jelly at ten paces!
How long she had daydreamed about Paul and her, running across a deserted white beach...barefoot of course. On some days, her dreams had been positively x-rated. Dreams, of course were a million miles away from real life. Real life dealt harshly with you, whereas in dreams ...everything went your way.
In fact, tonight, Sally had lain in a warm bath full of vanilla scented bubbles and had shared a half hour dream performance with Paul Saunders. The dream had once again become so sensual that she had thought about calling her friend Pam and saying she wouldn't be out tonight. The thought of lazing in a bath with the gorgeous Paul appealed greatly.
Still, in her inimitable style, Sally had carefully applied the war paint... blue eyelids, rose frosted rouge and scarlet lips.
The act of applying the afore-mentioned war paint took a while, but hey, one had to suffer to look beautiful.
Sally admired the vampish look in her gilt mirror and liked what she saw.
Paul would be knocked sideways when he saw her. She looked at the naughty little red thing hanging over her Lloyd-Loom chair. It resembled fishing net and was dangerously lacking in material, also it was an extremely mischievous crimson colour.
To the casual onlooker, the outfit and make-up were the tools of business of ...a certain lady of the night. Surely no self-respecting woman would even think of wearing all of this...apart from Sally.
Swiftly and adeptly, she applied a couple of coats of nail polish, so red that it looked as though she had dipped her fingers in blood. Sally blew on them to dry and sat back to wait for them to set properly.
Paul Saunders...everyone admired him, most from afar. He usually swept in to the dance hall with some younger bimbo on his arm. The bimbo would giggle in a silly affected manner and would gaze up at him with a slightly simple expression on her dolly-face.
Well women of this area, watch out...Sally was going to claim her man tonight!
Soon the talons were dry and Sally walked slowly to where the net was.
Pulling it over her body she trembled and marveled simultaneously as she looked in the cheval mirror.
You'll knock them dead tonight Sal, she said smugly to herself.
Picking up the leopard skin mackintosh and matching handbag, she descended the stairs.
The house was unusually empty. No one was in yet. Sally was pleased about this; they would only nag her about her attire and ask her what time she would be home. Sally was hoping that she would not even get home tonight; she had heard that Paul's apartment had to be seen to be believed.
A hooter outside indicated that the cab had arrived to pick her up. Head held erect, Sally tottered on her heels to where a young man sat with his eyes almost popping out of his head.
As she juggled with getting in to the cab whilst clinging on to a little modesty, several neighbors shook their heads in disbelief.
What on earth was she wearing now. Last week they had had to endure a shocking pink cat suit. What sort of example did she set for their children? Young girls were easily influenced after all.
Within minutes the cab driver had regained enough composure to drive this...woman to her destination.
They arrived at the dance hall and Sally paid her fare and struggled to leave the cab whilst keeping her knees together at the same time!
She grinned to herself as she walked into the hall. Sally was used to receiving that sort of reaction from men. Her motto had always been 'if you've got it, flaunt it'.
She definitely had it!
Her friend Pam was waiting in the foyer for her. She gave a low whistle as her friend approached her.
"Wow" she said as she gave her glamorous friend the once-over.
Sally should really have told Pam how nice she looked...but she didn't, so what was the point?
Paul Saunders, as usual, had a redheaded bimbo glued to his arm.
The only time he really noticed Sally was when she brushed against his thigh whilst trying to fight her way to the bar.
Unfortunately on her way back from the bar, she had inadvertently spilled some of her drambuie down his cashmere trousers. He had loudly remarked about some silly cow, Sally had no idea to whom he was referring.
As she remarked to Pam on their journey home in the cab...at least he'd noticed her.
There was the incident at the bar; his trousers would have dried off by now.
She had fluttered her mascara coated lashes at him so many times that she could feel a migraine coming on.
She had very sexily crossed her legs revealing a little bare flesh as he had passed her on the way to the cloakroom.
In fact, Sally had tried every wily trick in the book. Maybe she hadn't snared her man tonight...next time though.
It was past midnight, and Sally still felt beautiful. The cab driver stopped outside Pam's house and watched the couple of woman as they said goodbye.
The one in the red 'netty' thing obviously didn't possess a mirror and her two black eyes resembled Chi-Chi the panda at the local zoo.
Soon the carriage stopped outside Cinderella's abode.
Forgetting the rules of leaving a car in a dignified manner, Sally left the cab. Luckily most of the neighbors were in bed. A couple of teenagers having a goodnight kiss giggled as she tried to negotiate the front gate, then the path. Through her drambuie glazed eyes she saw the front door and managed to find the doorbell.
The cab driver raced home at a high speed. He would have to wake his wife up to tell her about this 'lady'.
Sally was about ten percent sober. That ten percent was the bit that was a little worried about the reaction from the folk indoors.
The door opened and an angry looking young woman stared at the oddity on the front step.
"When will you learn?" she asked shaking her head. "Ever since you've been attending that club your behavior and dress sense has been appalling."
Sally hung her head, it was thumping a little now and she was going to be sick.
"After all mum," said the younger woman, "It's a senior citizen club, and you are seventy-three!"
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
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