LITMIR.BIZ

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in her caramel-colored eyes was missing. Barbara immediately thought of the episode that morning and knew her gut feelings about Stephanie had some merit. This she had to hear.

      Ann Marie was the first to speak up. “What you say, girl? Your boss? You been doing the do with your boss?”

      “Ann!” Barbara admonished. She lowered her voice. “Is it true? You and Conrad what’shisname?”

      Stephanie bobbed her head and took a sip of her drink.

      “Well, I’ll be,” Elizabeth murmured, forgetting her own drama. “How long?”

      “About a year.”

      “And you’re just telling us,” they cried off-key.

      “It wasn’t supposed to be anything, you know. Just a few dates.”

      “Is that how you got your last promotion?” Ann Marie asked.

      Stephanie looked at her and rolled her eyes. “I was going to get the promotion, anyway.”

      The trio um-hmmmed her.

      “Fine.” She jumped up. “I knew I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m not an idiot. I didn’t get to where I am on my back. I work hard for everything I have in the boardroom or the bedroom,” she slurred. “I thought you all were my friends.”

      “Damn, she actually looks like she’s gonna cry,” Ann Marie muttered in awe, the four glasses of alcohol making Stephanie look like one of those desert mirages floating in front of her. “Sit down. You’re making me dizzy.”

      “Yes, please,” Elizabeth said, rubbing her eyes. “You’re giving me an ache or something.”

      Barbara sputtered a giggle. “Oh, what a night,” she sang badly and raised her glass in a toast. “To Ellie, who after twenty-five years of marriage is being kicked to the curb by her philandering husband and a hussy.”

      “Hear, hear!”

      “To Ann Marie, who can’t get it on anymore, with her daughter in the next room, and is now afraid her stuff will dry up and be no more good!”

      Even Ann Marie fell out laughing.

      “A toast to Stephanie, who’s been secretly canoodling with her boss and can’t figure out how to say, ‘Boss, I ain’t feeling this no more…but can I still get my raise?’”

      Fits of laughter filled the room.

      “And to dear old Barbara Allen, who is being pursued by a man young enough to be her son.”

      This time even the stereo and the wind outside went silent.

      “Stop playing, Barbara,” Elizabeth said. “You would be the last person in the world to fool around, especially with a man young enough to be your son.”

      “Yeah. Give me that glass. You’ve had too much to drink.” Stephanie reached for the glass, but Barbara snatched it away.

      “We all have,” Ann Marie muttered.

      “Why is it so hard to believe that someone would be interested in me?” Barbara shouted, then struggled to her feet. She weaved back and forth for a moment and all eyes followed her swaying motion until she steadied herself. “I’m attractive.”

      “Yes, you are,” they agreed.

      “I’m still sexy.”

      “Um-hmmm.”

      “A lot of men would want me.”

      “Of course,” Elizabeth said.

      “Well, did you do it or didn’t you?” Stephanie asked, getting straight to the point.

      “Scared.”

      “Of what?” Ann Marie asked.

      Barbara plopped down on the love seat and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I haven’t been with a man since Marvin died.”

      “Ohhh,” they chorused in sympathy.

      “Well, it’s like riding a bike. Once you get on, it all comes back to you,” Ann Marie said.

      “That’s very true,” Stephanie added.

      Elizabeth sniffed. “I wouldn’t know. That bastard was the only man I’ve ever been with.”

      “Ohhh,” they chimed.

      “I don’t know if I should get involved…like that,” Barbara said. “He’s a patient of mine.”

      “It’s not the same thing as doctor–patient,” Ann Marie offered.

      “That’s true,” Stephanie concurred.

      “How do you feel about him?” Elizabeth asked.

      Barbara turned gentle eyes on her friend. “I like him…a lot.”

      “So go for it, girl. You only live once. It’s not like you’re going to marry him,” Stephanie said.

      “And every healthy able-bodied woman needs some young lovin’ every now and then,” Ann Marie added.

      The trio nodded in agreement.

      Barbara sighed. “Wouldn’t it be ideal if women could just sit back and pick who they wanted, when they wanted, how they wanted, with no recriminations.”

      “Yep! Old, young, very young, married, single, rich, poor, your employee or your boss,” Stephanie said.

      “Yeah, and they’d all been previously screened,” Elizabeth said. “And you could find them all in one place.”

      “Yeah, like a male supermarket!” Ann Marie joked.

      “Or like in a department-store window,” said Stephanie. “You could window-shop for a man. And they would have to be returnable.”

      Barbara giggled. “Yes, they’d all be posing in the window, like puppies in a pet shop. Pick me, pick me.” She giggled again. “And the women would pause to take a look at the men and move along to the next window.”

      “Um-hmmm.”

      “Wish there was a place like that,” Elizabeth said wistfully.

      “Shopping for men would certainly keep our minds off of our own troubles,” Ann Marie said.

      “But sometimes you just want to look, you know,” Barbara said.

      “And if women sat around ogling men all the time…well, you know what they are called,” Stephanie said before finishing off her drink.

      “Still, it would be nice if there was a place where you go to look and fantasize and maybe—” Barbara shrugged “—who knows, maybe something would happen if you wanted it to.”

      “Um-hmmm.”

      They looked at each other, and their faith, love and trust in their friendship stripped away any inhibitions they may have had and they began talking all at once.

      They talked and ate and drank until the sun beamed through the windows of Barbara’s apartment. And they’d come up with an idea that was so far-fetched and deliciously exciting that it simply had to work.

      Chapter 6

      The aroma of frying bacon tickled Ann Marie’s nose. She turned on her side and tried to ignore it. She needed sleep, more sleep. She put the pillow over her head hoping that it would block out the tap, tap, tapping in her skull. She pulled her knees up to her chin. That didn’t help, either, and if she didn’t know better she’d swear someone was calling “Mama.”

      Mama! Damn. She sat straight up in bed, the covers falling off her nude body, and her head did a three-sixty. She pressed her palms to her temples, hoping to slow down the spinning.

      “Yes,” she croaked. Her tongue

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