Everything She Liked #3....

Taking those thoughts to heart, she double bolted the door and turned to the entry way. She noticed the parquet maple flooring was a bit dusty and proceeded to the kitchen for a damp cloth. Near the counter, a bottle of vodka. "A bit early for the drink." She grabbed an icepick, opened the fridge and made her way to the icebox. A cold cocoa cola would be her poison.
"Oh fiddle- sticks Henry." The cat purred while feeling the tousle of familiar hands.
A knock at the door made her jump to her feet. Under her breath she whispered, "Breathe baby, breathe."

"Breathe baby, breathe. Breathe Betty. Wake up!"
"What?" Betty felt her surroundings. The crumbling papers awakened her senses and she quickly snapped out of her stupor. She felt her broken glasses on the right side and put them on. The release of her squint softened the lines on her face and an early morning familiar sun beat down with a vengeance.
" Time to move."

Everything She Liked Cont.....

Startled by the loud noise of a heavy old door, she was surprised that a tiny nudge would cause such a sound. The door slowly reopened. A glimmer of sunlight graced the blue undertones in her ruby reds. Her pout was only slightly attractive and her pin dangled from a now disheveled curl.
"What do you want from me? Its best that you turn around and walk away. My friend is coming any moment now."
" Not very lady like to shut the door with such strong force."
" It was a slip of the wrist and I am not feeling very lady like. Best that you leave."
" Yeah well, do yourself a favor and get over whatever it is that floats in that crazy head of yours. An empty mind is quite liberating."
From the corner of his eye he could see the neighbor peeking through Dupioni silk curtains. He hesitated but turned around and hit the pavement. A quick glance over his shoulder left her with the impression that he would be back.

Everything She Liked

Everything she liked was either rouge, textured or helpless. She could paint her pout with Chanel Ruby Red, scrape her nails down a jute rug or clean up endless spills from her canine terror.
She was a throwback species who encountered a bit of success with her high heeled strappy shoes and pin curled waves. A brief slip of her strap lead her eyes down to the small tear in her noir thigh high stockings. It was not long before a knock at the door would reveal what she had been waiting for. "Just a second" she whimpered as she fidgeted with her pencil skirt and fastened her bobby pin. The door opened. A quick glance and SLAM.