Mary and Laura live down the street and go jogging every morning, an event which you never fail to watch from your kitchen window. Mary had moved in with her sister a few weeks back. Laura had just divorced her husband, or as she liked to call him, “That-cheating-small-cocked-bag-o’-shit,” and Mary needed a free place to save every penny to get through med school. Their little daily romps have driven you to find satisfaction many times in the past but now, with the purchase of your new bed, a daydream may become a reality.
You carefully plan how you will fulfill this goal. Friday night, you place your garbage on the curb so that as long as they were looking, they could quickly sidestep it without a second thought. Then, as the vixens came jogging by, you stepped out the front door. “Good Morning!”, you shout just in time to distract the sisters and let them crash into the pile. You look concerned and rush to help them.
“Miss Lopez? Miss Lopez are you all right?”
“I think I twisted my ankle. Mary, how are you?”
“OK, I guess. Looks like only a few cuts and bruises.”
“Look, ladies, I feel this is all my fault,” you say, fighting back a chuckle. “Let me get you in the house, Miss Lopez.”
“Thank you, Mr. . Call me Laura,” she smiles.
“Of course, of course.” You lift her firm, athletic body. “Call me ,” you say as you help Mary off the ground. “Let’s get you two fixed up,” you tell the Lopezes as you walk into the house. |