Read Online Hot Flash by Kathy Carmichael - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Kathy Carmichael
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the tube to my owie, I slapped a bandage on it. Since I’d been so generous with the ointment, the bandage didn’t want to stick. I grabbed another bandage. And another. And another.
After applying eleven bandages, I figured it had done the trick. Now to see whether I could walk.
I took a tentative step.
At first I could only spider-creep my way to the door. However, after a little practice (or maybe the Novocain finally kicked in), I mastered something like my normal gait. Kinda.
After pacing the bathroom six more times, I decided I could walk semi-normally as long as I took it slowly.
So what if I didn’t get to audition Tony tonight? I could enjoy the pleasure of his company and get to know him better. I could audition him on personality traits rather than sexual prowess. M.B.S. could wait until date number two.
It didn’t take long to dry and style my hair, put on my makeup, and wrap myself in a towel. I was as gorgeous as I could make myself and ready for The Date—well, except for clothes.
Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I was pleased with my appearance. While Wesley might not have an instant erection, I looked pretty damn good. And maybe the towel would make me look sexy?
I stealthily unlatched the door, pulled it open very slowly, hoping it wouldn’t creak as it often does. I peeked out, but didn’t see either Stephen or his fiendish ex-teacher. Turning my head, I saw Stephen’s door was open wide, revealing an empty room. I stepped from the bathroom. Where the hell were they?
Hitching the towel up higher, I stalked through the apartment and didn’t find either of them, before giving up and returning to my bedroom.
It was just as well they weren’t here. After all, I didn’t want Wesley to see me in only a threadbare towel, and Stephen would probably have made some sarcastic French comment anyway.
I took my time slipping on the new outfit I’d bought for The Date. The skirt was short, very short, as short as the pink one my mother is so fond of when it comes to matchmaking me with unsuitable men. My new one was a lovely shade of dark blue chiffon and it was flirty and youthful and I knew, without a doubt, that I looked fantastic in it.
I pulled on the matching camisole, then covered that in a see-through chiffon over shirt. After slipping on my new strappy shoes, I took a look in the full-length mirror inside my closet door. Oh, wow. I might be forty flipping years old, but I didn’t look it in this outfit. If it didn’t knock any number of traveling salesmen’s socks off, I couldn’t imagine what would. And, it would definitely erase any unpleasant earlier images of me, should my son and his loony teacher have returned.
I quickly put on faux diamond ear studs, a tiny chain and locket, and dabbed on the barest hint of Opium as the finishing touches before emerging from my bedroom.
From the smell, I could tell the pizza had arrived. As I entered the kitchen, two low male whistles greeted me.
Bingo!
From the grins on their faces, I could tell my outfit was a big hit.
“You like?” I asked, spinning.
“Tres bien, Maman.”
“Planning to break some hearts tonight?” asked Wesley.
“I sure hope so.” When I grabbed my handbag from the kitchen counter, I noticed the teacher was doing something to my sink. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing your faucet.” He’d taken it apart and was apparently in the process of replacing the little screen filter. “Stephen told me it’s been spitting at you lately.”
“I was planning to do it.” I was feeling defensive, which was silly since it wasn’t a big deal.
“I like fixing things,” Wesley added.
“The original Mr. Fix-It, huh?” But then, my gaze landed on the yellow cardboard lightbulb package sitting beside the sink. I looked up. He’d replaced the bulb that had been out for several months. Something else I’d been planning to get around to … eventually.
Now I really felt defensive. He already thought
After applying eleven bandages, I figured it had done the trick. Now to see whether I could walk.
I took a tentative step.
At first I could only spider-creep my way to the door. However, after a little practice (or maybe the Novocain finally kicked in), I mastered something like my normal gait. Kinda.
After pacing the bathroom six more times, I decided I could walk semi-normally as long as I took it slowly.
So what if I didn’t get to audition Tony tonight? I could enjoy the pleasure of his company and get to know him better. I could audition him on personality traits rather than sexual prowess. M.B.S. could wait until date number two.
It didn’t take long to dry and style my hair, put on my makeup, and wrap myself in a towel. I was as gorgeous as I could make myself and ready for The Date—well, except for clothes.
Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I was pleased with my appearance. While Wesley might not have an instant erection, I looked pretty damn good. And maybe the towel would make me look sexy?
I stealthily unlatched the door, pulled it open very slowly, hoping it wouldn’t creak as it often does. I peeked out, but didn’t see either Stephen or his fiendish ex-teacher. Turning my head, I saw Stephen’s door was open wide, revealing an empty room. I stepped from the bathroom. Where the hell were they?
Hitching the towel up higher, I stalked through the apartment and didn’t find either of them, before giving up and returning to my bedroom.
It was just as well they weren’t here. After all, I didn’t want Wesley to see me in only a threadbare towel, and Stephen would probably have made some sarcastic French comment anyway.
I took my time slipping on the new outfit I’d bought for The Date. The skirt was short, very short, as short as the pink one my mother is so fond of when it comes to matchmaking me with unsuitable men. My new one was a lovely shade of dark blue chiffon and it was flirty and youthful and I knew, without a doubt, that I looked fantastic in it.
I pulled on the matching camisole, then covered that in a see-through chiffon over shirt. After slipping on my new strappy shoes, I took a look in the full-length mirror inside my closet door. Oh, wow. I might be forty flipping years old, but I didn’t look it in this outfit. If it didn’t knock any number of traveling salesmen’s socks off, I couldn’t imagine what would. And, it would definitely erase any unpleasant earlier images of me, should my son and his loony teacher have returned.
I quickly put on faux diamond ear studs, a tiny chain and locket, and dabbed on the barest hint of Opium as the finishing touches before emerging from my bedroom.
From the smell, I could tell the pizza had arrived. As I entered the kitchen, two low male whistles greeted me.
Bingo!
From the grins on their faces, I could tell my outfit was a big hit.
“You like?” I asked, spinning.
“Tres bien, Maman.”
“Planning to break some hearts tonight?” asked Wesley.
“I sure hope so.” When I grabbed my handbag from the kitchen counter, I noticed the teacher was doing something to my sink. “What are you doing?”
“Fixing your faucet.” He’d taken it apart and was apparently in the process of replacing the little screen filter. “Stephen told me it’s been spitting at you lately.”
“I was planning to do it.” I was feeling defensive, which was silly since it wasn’t a big deal.
“I like fixing things,” Wesley added.
“The original Mr. Fix-It, huh?” But then, my gaze landed on the yellow cardboard lightbulb package sitting beside the sink. I looked up. He’d replaced the bulb that had been out for several months. Something else I’d been planning to get around to … eventually.
Now I really felt defensive. He already thought
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