sufficiently vague response.
Magda looked like she had more to say, as usual. The words were poised on her lips, when she was interrupted. A man in a nicely tailored suit, his hair so perfect it seemed glued into place, touched her on the arm.
"Excuse me," he began, flashing dazzlingly white teeth.
Magda's sigh was audible from across the room. "Let me guess. You normally wouldn't do something like this, but there was something about me, and you just couldn't resist. Thank you, but I don't need another drink."
To his credit, the man did not sulk, as some were wont to do, or curse her, which was the reaction of many others. Instead he grinned, his teeth blinding in their whiteness against his nicely tanned face, and shrugged.
"You can't blame a guy for trying."
Magda was so used to being hit on, and to the wounded men's responses, that she actually favored this one with a smile.
"Fair enough," she conceded.
He walked away without trying again, another point in his favor. A few minutes later, refills arrived for both women. The bartender merely said the drinks had been paid for, and the man didn't show himself again.
"He may not have been so bad," Wendy said, taking a long pull from her beer.
Magda looked thoughtful. "It's so hard to tell," she sighed. "There are so many of them."
From any other woman, that would have been an unjustified brag or a comment designed to incur jealousy. The truth was that men were drawn to Magda like a moths were to a flame, and the process generally ended just as well for the men as it did for the moths.
Wendy appreciated her free drink, though she didn't finish it. "I have to drive home," she explained unnecessarily.
As they both knew, Magda lived within walking distance of the library, and she unabashedly finished her second martini.
She daintily patted her red lips with a cocktail napkin. "See you tomorrow. I'll come by to help you pick an outfit."
As Wendy drove home, she considered the meager contents of her clothes closet. Magda would not be impressed. There was very little it contained that she hadn't already worn to work, and somehow she didn't think that her work ensemble was what Magda had in mind for a party.
Her second closet, carefully camouflaged in plain sight in her foyer, would provide much greater interest, though nothing better to wear.
Though she drove to work, Wendy didn't live all that far from the library either, and she reached her small cottage in a matter of minutes. Parking in the single car driveway, she walked up a small walkway, which was flanked on both sides with flowers in a vibrant rainbow of colors. She spared a small smile for the flowerbeds, which she had planted herself.
Wendy felt the familiar rush of satisfaction at the sight of her little house. It had a real-life white picket fence in the front that had first attracted her to the property. Then, it had been something of a fixer-upper, so the price had reeled her in completely. Now, five years later, the house was finally exactly how she wanted it, from the darkly stained hardwood floors to the pristinely white crown moulding. Her little house was a haven, an oasis from all the demands she felt from the outside world - job, men, family. Especially family.
Wendy unlocked the door and let herself in. Upon crossing the threshold she paused and called out, "Charlie!"
There was no answer.
Her roommate was very moody and more than a little aloof. Some days he would greet her at the doorway, desperate for her attention, and he wouldn't leave her alone for the rest of the night. Other days, like today, he was nowhere to be found.
Wendy crept down the short hallway towards the back bedroom and small separate bath. "Charlie," she called again. Still no response from inside the house.
She walked into the bathroom and peered into the bathtub. "There you are!"
Charlie, her oversized black cat, sat in the middle of the bathtub, staring up at her with unblinking golden eyes.
"What are you doing in
Magda looked like she had more to say, as usual. The words were poised on her lips, when she was interrupted. A man in a nicely tailored suit, his hair so perfect it seemed glued into place, touched her on the arm.
"Excuse me," he began, flashing dazzlingly white teeth.
Magda's sigh was audible from across the room. "Let me guess. You normally wouldn't do something like this, but there was something about me, and you just couldn't resist. Thank you, but I don't need another drink."
To his credit, the man did not sulk, as some were wont to do, or curse her, which was the reaction of many others. Instead he grinned, his teeth blinding in their whiteness against his nicely tanned face, and shrugged.
"You can't blame a guy for trying."
Magda was so used to being hit on, and to the wounded men's responses, that she actually favored this one with a smile.
"Fair enough," she conceded.
He walked away without trying again, another point in his favor. A few minutes later, refills arrived for both women. The bartender merely said the drinks had been paid for, and the man didn't show himself again.
"He may not have been so bad," Wendy said, taking a long pull from her beer.
Magda looked thoughtful. "It's so hard to tell," she sighed. "There are so many of them."
From any other woman, that would have been an unjustified brag or a comment designed to incur jealousy. The truth was that men were drawn to Magda like a moths were to a flame, and the process generally ended just as well for the men as it did for the moths.
Wendy appreciated her free drink, though she didn't finish it. "I have to drive home," she explained unnecessarily.
As they both knew, Magda lived within walking distance of the library, and she unabashedly finished her second martini.
She daintily patted her red lips with a cocktail napkin. "See you tomorrow. I'll come by to help you pick an outfit."
As Wendy drove home, she considered the meager contents of her clothes closet. Magda would not be impressed. There was very little it contained that she hadn't already worn to work, and somehow she didn't think that her work ensemble was what Magda had in mind for a party.
Her second closet, carefully camouflaged in plain sight in her foyer, would provide much greater interest, though nothing better to wear.
Though she drove to work, Wendy didn't live all that far from the library either, and she reached her small cottage in a matter of minutes. Parking in the single car driveway, she walked up a small walkway, which was flanked on both sides with flowers in a vibrant rainbow of colors. She spared a small smile for the flowerbeds, which she had planted herself.
Wendy felt the familiar rush of satisfaction at the sight of her little house. It had a real-life white picket fence in the front that had first attracted her to the property. Then, it had been something of a fixer-upper, so the price had reeled her in completely. Now, five years later, the house was finally exactly how she wanted it, from the darkly stained hardwood floors to the pristinely white crown moulding. Her little house was a haven, an oasis from all the demands she felt from the outside world - job, men, family. Especially family.
Wendy unlocked the door and let herself in. Upon crossing the threshold she paused and called out, "Charlie!"
There was no answer.
Her roommate was very moody and more than a little aloof. Some days he would greet her at the doorway, desperate for her attention, and he wouldn't leave her alone for the rest of the night. Other days, like today, he was nowhere to be found.
Wendy crept down the short hallway towards the back bedroom and small separate bath. "Charlie," she called again. Still no response from inside the house.
She walked into the bathroom and peered into the bathtub. "There you are!"
Charlie, her oversized black cat, sat in the middle of the bathtub, staring up at her with unblinking golden eyes.
"What are you doing in
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