Truth in Nakedness
Admiration. Fascination. Lust. Concentration. Infatuation. All applied and only partially described the emotions men experience watching Shirley Bordellos emerge from an automobile. As Shirley, who pronounced it Shorely in her deeply etched New Jersey accent, stepped forth males and even a few females became visually transfixed by her physical perfection.
At this instant Shirley was sliding her overly long and perfectly shaped leg out of his vintage 1953 Nash Healy Convertible. Street resisted the visual delight and let his eyes drift to the portly middle-aged neighbor watering his extensive flower gardens. Norris gave a slight disapproving shake when it was obvious the neighbor was so lost in his observations. He wasn’t only drowning his roses, he was also destroying their lovely blooms.
Even though she was fully clothed, Shirley emerged from her seat more naked than Botticelli’s Venus Rising. The pale grape purple dress embraced her so tightly it looked as though it had been sprayed on. Her hair and three inch spiked heels matched the dress exactly. Carefully Street closed the door and waved to the gardener.
‘She’s really something, ain’t she?’ he called, delighted when the fellow ducked his head and half turned to the drowning roses. The move reminded Street of a child caught committing a social taboo.
‘But you think she’s worth losing both your garden and happy home for?’ he called out ever louder. Now the gardner’s back was facing Norris who grinned when Shirley asked him not to be so nasty.
Undeterred, Street concluded chastising the man with, ‘You don’t stand a chance, Buster. She’s well read and likes discussing politics and religion.’
‘Norrus, neveh knew you got such a nasty tongue on you.’
This complete story is now available in B. B. Riefner's collection of stories: Mind Travels, available from Redgate Publishing Co., Amazon.com and for Kindle e-readers.
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