Posted in Short Stories

The Perfect Woman (Part VIII)

“I’m sorry for intruding like this, but I just wanted to apologize for earlier,” said Bryson with upturned brows and innocent blue eyes.

“What do you have to apologize for? I’m the one who should say I’m sorry. I interrupted your date. I was just nervous to talk to you is all, so I thought I’d get it over with. I was thinking about my own feelings and not about yours. I’m so sorry. But couldn’t have this waited until we get to work tomorrow. One-.” She glanced at a nearby clock on the wall. “Well now it’s two in the morning. Anyway, now isn’t the time.”

“What’s the matter? You need your beauty rest or something? I’ll never talk to the likes of you again. I come here to say I’m sorry, and this is how I get treated.” He turned back toward the apartment door and grabbed the handle.

“Wait! I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have gotten upset. You can come by any time. I mean…”

Bryson remained where he stood for a minute. Then, “Ok. I accept your apology. Look, I really want to get to know you better.” He turned and faced her then reached a finger up to her cheek and ran it lightly underneath her chin. Her shiver permeated through his touch. Oh yes, this one is going to be pudding in his hands.


Posted in Short Stories

The Perfect Woman (Part VII)

That night, as Jean lay in bed, thoughts of her untimely attempt to talk to Bryson earlier that evening continued to play in her head. What was she thinking? Jillian had been right, of course. Introducing herself while he was on a date was the wrong time to talk to him. She sighed deeply. Wanting to get the whole thing over with had been at the forefront of her mind, so she jumped in.

“I should have waited until he was alone…at work…or something like that,” she said aloud to no one. Glancing at the digital clock on the night stand, she cringed. One o’clock a.m. She rolled over, hunkered down under the blanket, and shut her eyes to attempt sleep.

Minutes went by and limbo started to rock her to sleep, when a knock on her apartment door rendered her wide awake once more. “Seriously?” Flipping the covers back, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, slunk her feet into their slippers, and threw a housecoat around her shoulders.

At the door she looked through the peephole. It was Bryson. “What the hell?” she whispered. At this hour? Maybe she had an effect on him after all. Her heart raced as she placed her hand on the door knob, twisted it, and pulled it open.

“Bryson? What are you doing here at this hour?” asked Jean.

“What. You’re not pleased to see me?”

“Well, yeah, but…”

“Then what’s the problem? I wanted to see you.”

Before she knew it, he had crossed the threshold and clicked the door shut.

(To Be Continued)

Posted in Short Stories

The Perfect Woman (Part V)

That night, after a dinner of roast chicken with fresh green beans and a salad, Jean decided to go out to the local pub around the corner from her high rise apartment. As she entered Jack’s Tavern, the scent of cigarettes and beer greeted her. The usual crowd frequented their usual seats. She spotted a booth in the far corner, walked over to it and sat down. Moments later a waitress friend of hers by name of Jillian, sauntered over to take her order.

“Hey, Jean. Here alone again?” asked Jillian.

“Yeah. I know, I know. I need a man in my life,” replied Jean.

“Remember. You said that. I didn’t.”

“Men aren’t easy to talk to. I can’t just walk up and talk to one. What would I say?”

Jillian creased her brows and cocked her head to the side. “What do you mean, what would you say? You say anything. That’s what you say.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Yes, it is that simple. You’re too dang shy. Get over it. Besides, it isn’t like you’re going to blow up or something.”

Jean looked at her hands and shook her head then brought her eyes up to look at Jillian once more. “My mind goes blank, and my heart rate increases every time the opportunity comes up.”

“Well, the only way to get rid of that is if you attack year fear of talking to men head on.”

Jean smiled but didn’t say anything.

“You know I’m right,” stated Jillian.

In the time she and Jillian had been talking, Bryson and another woman came in to the tavern together and took a seat two booths down from Jeans. Jean sighed as she glanced in their direction then did a double take.

Seeing Jean’s reaction and change of expression, Jillian followed her gaze. “What?” asked Jillian. “What’s wrong?”

Jean glanced back up at Jillian then back in the direction of Bryson and his date. She waved Jillian a little closer, lowered her voice, and told her about her encounter with Bryson, or lack there of, that afternoon at work. Then she described a little incident she observed, involving a woman who claimed to be his wife, downstairs at the reception desk. “Jill, that woman in the booth with him over there is not the woman who said she was his wife.”

“Maybe it’s a business meeting,” said Jillian.

“It’s some business meeting then,” said Jean flipping her hand in Bryson’s direction. At that moment, Jean observed him bringing the woman’s hand to his lips and kiss it tenderly. As Bryson did this, he met Jean’s eyes. Jean glanced back Jillian who stole a peek in Bryson’s direction.

Jillian, forgetting her customers for a moment, sat down across from Jean. “Wait, that isn’t his wife.”


(To Be Continued)

Posted in Poetry

The Weed by L. M. Montes

In walked a woman who sat with the rest,
her clothes of silk and makeup smooth,
she had to look her best,
smile she did
and greetings pure,
who would have guessed that underneath
she seethed with vengeance sure.
The others were impressed
as they spoke with her aright,
and never did they see her
in any such different light,
it wasn’t till she dropped a word
with innocence so bright,
that shuttered and shook the others
against themselves with all their might.
Now, she was truly happy
with malice that brought delight
of having caused a killing ruckus
so scathing and impolite.