Read Online Death by the Riverside by J. M. Redmann; Jean M. Redmann - Free Book Online
Authors: J. M. Redmann; Jean M. Redmann
Ads: Link
puzzled.
“For protection against deviant, communistic, secular, humanist perverts, such as myself.”
She laughed at that. “So I’m supposed to be shocked? Is that what you wanted?”
“No,” I replied. “I would get along much better if no one was shocked at me being who I am.” She nodded agreement. I continued, “I’m even so bold to think that I can tell another woman, even if she’s straight and has two kids, that I think she’s very attractive.” She finished her wine and started to say something, but I broke in. “And now you’re going to say, ‘thanks, but I’ve got to be moving along.’ And that’s all right. I’ve had a good time tonight.”
“Being a proper Southern woman and all, I suppose I shouldn’t admit it, but so have I. An affair with a good-looking woman fifteen years younger than I am sounds like a wonderful adventure. I’d much rather turn it down than not have it offered.” She took a final sip of her wine. “And now I’ve got to be getting back to my kids.”
We paid the check and went out into the chilly night.
“I’m really sorry about tackling you,” I said. “I hope I didn’t leave too many bruises.”
“I’ll survive. Besides, a bruise or two tomorrow will mean that this really happened. I’ll see you then.”
“Good night.” And we parted. I watched her disappear around a corner, then I headed off. I looked at my watch. It was only eight-thirty. The evening was still quite young. I decided to hit I Know You Don’t Care, an upscale lesbian bar in this part of town. Since I had on a skirt and pumps (also a shirt, underwear, and the rest), they might let me in.
I got a drink and settled in, leaning against the wall next to yet another hanging plant. If there’s ever a revolution, I want to be on the green side. This was a good place to watch the action. Or lack of it. The bar was fairly full, but the couple next to me was discussing mutual funds and I overheard snatches of conversation about the condo market. Perhaps I could find some lovely lesbian to impress with the $13.05 in my checking account and my method of playing the stock market. I left it alone, hoping that it would leave me alone. I didn’t see any interesting women. In a bar full of women, I couldn’t find one that interested me. I was slipping. I had another drink and decided it was time to go home and finish Pride and Prejudice and maybe manage a fantasy or two about women with deep brown eyes.
Chapter 8
The morning was one of those rare clear cool days. I found myself whistling on the way to work. A teenage boy even asked me what the tune was. He liked it and wanted to know if he might find it at his local record store. I said yes, they might have Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” and to ask for the Ninth Symphony. He thanked me, smiled, and we parted. There’s hope for the younger generation yet.
Even a morning of slogging through boring secretarial routines didn’t change my mood. I only saw Barbara in passing. She started my day by dumping a load of stuff on my desk and asking if I could get it done as soon as possible. I said yes and asked a few questions about it. All very professional. Then she winked at me and disappeared. It didn’t hurt my high spirits to have those brown eyes winking at me.
I didn’t see her again until after lunch. We ran into each other in the bathroom.
“They’re letting us go early today,” she said as we were washing our hands together. “Due to the Super Bowl this weekend. Long lines for beer, I guess. I’ve scheduled you to work next week, so we can do what we planned,” she finished.
“Why not today when everyone’s gone?” I asked, leaving the water running to cover our voices, just in case anyone was loitering outside.
“Because I think it’s only the staff that’s leaving early,” she answered.
“I see.” No, it would not be a good idea for us to snoop around with Milo and his cronies on the premises. Someone else entered
“For protection against deviant, communistic, secular, humanist perverts, such as myself.”
She laughed at that. “So I’m supposed to be shocked? Is that what you wanted?”
“No,” I replied. “I would get along much better if no one was shocked at me being who I am.” She nodded agreement. I continued, “I’m even so bold to think that I can tell another woman, even if she’s straight and has two kids, that I think she’s very attractive.” She finished her wine and started to say something, but I broke in. “And now you’re going to say, ‘thanks, but I’ve got to be moving along.’ And that’s all right. I’ve had a good time tonight.”
“Being a proper Southern woman and all, I suppose I shouldn’t admit it, but so have I. An affair with a good-looking woman fifteen years younger than I am sounds like a wonderful adventure. I’d much rather turn it down than not have it offered.” She took a final sip of her wine. “And now I’ve got to be getting back to my kids.”
We paid the check and went out into the chilly night.
“I’m really sorry about tackling you,” I said. “I hope I didn’t leave too many bruises.”
“I’ll survive. Besides, a bruise or two tomorrow will mean that this really happened. I’ll see you then.”
“Good night.” And we parted. I watched her disappear around a corner, then I headed off. I looked at my watch. It was only eight-thirty. The evening was still quite young. I decided to hit I Know You Don’t Care, an upscale lesbian bar in this part of town. Since I had on a skirt and pumps (also a shirt, underwear, and the rest), they might let me in.
I got a drink and settled in, leaning against the wall next to yet another hanging plant. If there’s ever a revolution, I want to be on the green side. This was a good place to watch the action. Or lack of it. The bar was fairly full, but the couple next to me was discussing mutual funds and I overheard snatches of conversation about the condo market. Perhaps I could find some lovely lesbian to impress with the $13.05 in my checking account and my method of playing the stock market. I left it alone, hoping that it would leave me alone. I didn’t see any interesting women. In a bar full of women, I couldn’t find one that interested me. I was slipping. I had another drink and decided it was time to go home and finish Pride and Prejudice and maybe manage a fantasy or two about women with deep brown eyes.
Chapter 8
The morning was one of those rare clear cool days. I found myself whistling on the way to work. A teenage boy even asked me what the tune was. He liked it and wanted to know if he might find it at his local record store. I said yes, they might have Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy” and to ask for the Ninth Symphony. He thanked me, smiled, and we parted. There’s hope for the younger generation yet.
Even a morning of slogging through boring secretarial routines didn’t change my mood. I only saw Barbara in passing. She started my day by dumping a load of stuff on my desk and asking if I could get it done as soon as possible. I said yes and asked a few questions about it. All very professional. Then she winked at me and disappeared. It didn’t hurt my high spirits to have those brown eyes winking at me.
I didn’t see her again until after lunch. We ran into each other in the bathroom.
“They’re letting us go early today,” she said as we were washing our hands together. “Due to the Super Bowl this weekend. Long lines for beer, I guess. I’ve scheduled you to work next week, so we can do what we planned,” she finished.
“Why not today when everyone’s gone?” I asked, leaving the water running to cover our voices, just in case anyone was loitering outside.
“Because I think it’s only the staff that’s leaving early,” she answered.
“I see.” No, it would not be a good idea for us to snoop around with Milo and his cronies on the premises. Someone else entered
Similar Books
