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A Mother Of A First Date

Six months after my divorce, Zelda set me up on a blind date with Henry. She said, "He's a photographer, kinda cute."

I met Henry Sunday afternoon at a bistro. He offered a limp handshake and said, "So, Ella, you paint portraits. You should paint me. What do you think?"

(Curly black hair. Dimples. Green eyes ogling my breasts. I should start wearing a bra.)

"Hold that thought," said Henry, as a waiter appeared. "Another double scotch for me and a glass of house red for my lady."

(His lady?) "No, thanks," I said, "I'll have mint tea."

After the waiter left, Henry scowled. "Independent women are unpredictable and fear commitment."

"Wow. Has that been your experience?" I asked.

"No, that's what Mother thinks. She always knows what's best for me." (Like no second dates?)

When our drinks arrived, Henry chugged his scotch. "Mother requests you join us for dinner tonight. She'd love to meet you, and then we could watch Downton Abbey."

"No, I have other plans."(Plotting ways to kill Zelda.)

Henry licked his lips, leaned in towards me and Mr. Hyde emerged. "Ella, you're a hottie. What about a nude photo shoot at my studio?"

"You better see what Mother thinks first." I stood up, tossed a ten down on the table, and left.

Story by:

Neil Tarpey

51frontier@suddenlink.net

www.tarpeydiem.com

18 July 2018