by Paul Bagnell
*****
After dinner McBridle went upstairs to change from business to casual. Tom stood at the bottom of the stairway and sipped on a glass of wine. He could hear her upstairs opening and closing the closet doors and walking back and forth. He entered the living room, picked up a tiny figurine and examined it; it was all glazed and colourful with an inscription: TO CELIA, LOVE DAD. When he turned, she was standing there. She was dressed in skin-tight blue jeans and a stretchy white top. Her choice of clothing accentuated her flawless figure. Every ounce of her exterior was mortally delectable.
“Well, I see you’re fully ready,” Tom said while checking her out as if she were a slice of juicy roast beef.
She slid her hands down her hips and thighs. “You like what you see?”
“Do birds nest in trees?” He placed the owl back on its perch.
She smiled as if she were sexually aroused. “Let’s take off; or we’ll be late,” she said, and hooked his arm as they left for the bowling lanes.
