Softly Whispers
Virgin
- Joined
- Jun 23, 2004
- Posts
- 11
With a sigh of pure frustration and a glare at her 1992 Volvo’s offending starter, Lina gave the steering wheel a final open handed slap. "You idiotic, senile old thing. You were supposed to have been fixed yesterday! "
Jiggling the key in the starter didn't do a thing. Holding her tongue at the right angle and peering in the keyhole earned her nothing but a crick in her neck and the drained cell phone lay on the passenger seat where she had tossed it earlier. It didn't help matters much that her conservatively applied make-up was irritating her as it dripped down the side of her face in the unbearable heat of a mid-prairie summer day. Even though she had long ago abandoned the blazer of her navy blue office suit, she had perspiration stains on the cream coloured opaque blouse underneath. She was as big a wreck as her car and she was late. Late for the opening cocktail hour, and she had a feeling she'd really need that cocktail before she faced the old crowd. "There goes my grand entrance as a successful power broker." Her humor remained intact, though as she chuckled to herself. "Power broker? Well, what they don't know won't hurt them, personal assistant to a power broker, power broker, same thing."
With a violent shake of the steering wheel, she pressed her head against the horn, and then jumped at sudden garish blare that followed. The resulting contact of the top of her head with the rearview mirror earned the mirror her patented stare of death as she looked at her reflection. Dumbfounded by what she saw, Lani leaned back against her seat and burst into a giggle. "A fire at Madame Tussand's Wax Museum couldn't have done more damage." She cracked down her window another inch or two, then reached for her half empty water bottle, resigned to a long wait for help, even with her hood up and a home-made sign asking for someone to call the AMA in her back window. As she took a slow sip, she muttered. "The lipstick is probably melting on the sign anyhow. Serves me right for giving my pen to the poor and needy. Clerks at grocery stores really should have their own pen supply."
Not daring to open the window any further even in the sweltering heat, she eyed the level of her water bottle and decided it was worth the risk. Lifting it above her head, she allowed a few trickles to run down her golden brown hair and she shivered with relief as the small rivulets dripped down to her collar. She poured another precious bit into one hand to splash on her temples and the base of her throat as she idly watched the mid-morning traffic whiz by her on the busy freeway. "Well, I guess I can always grab a slurpee instead of a martini" When the Betty Boop doll on the dashboard refused to answer, she flicked its head with a fingernail, mesmerized as she watched the ruby lipped, wide-eyed flirt bob back and forth on its firmly mounted stand.
Jiggling the key in the starter didn't do a thing. Holding her tongue at the right angle and peering in the keyhole earned her nothing but a crick in her neck and the drained cell phone lay on the passenger seat where she had tossed it earlier. It didn't help matters much that her conservatively applied make-up was irritating her as it dripped down the side of her face in the unbearable heat of a mid-prairie summer day. Even though she had long ago abandoned the blazer of her navy blue office suit, she had perspiration stains on the cream coloured opaque blouse underneath. She was as big a wreck as her car and she was late. Late for the opening cocktail hour, and she had a feeling she'd really need that cocktail before she faced the old crowd. "There goes my grand entrance as a successful power broker." Her humor remained intact, though as she chuckled to herself. "Power broker? Well, what they don't know won't hurt them, personal assistant to a power broker, power broker, same thing."
With a violent shake of the steering wheel, she pressed her head against the horn, and then jumped at sudden garish blare that followed. The resulting contact of the top of her head with the rearview mirror earned the mirror her patented stare of death as she looked at her reflection. Dumbfounded by what she saw, Lani leaned back against her seat and burst into a giggle. "A fire at Madame Tussand's Wax Museum couldn't have done more damage." She cracked down her window another inch or two, then reached for her half empty water bottle, resigned to a long wait for help, even with her hood up and a home-made sign asking for someone to call the AMA in her back window. As she took a slow sip, she muttered. "The lipstick is probably melting on the sign anyhow. Serves me right for giving my pen to the poor and needy. Clerks at grocery stores really should have their own pen supply."
Not daring to open the window any further even in the sweltering heat, she eyed the level of her water bottle and decided it was worth the risk. Lifting it above her head, she allowed a few trickles to run down her golden brown hair and she shivered with relief as the small rivulets dripped down to her collar. She poured another precious bit into one hand to splash on her temples and the base of her throat as she idly watched the mid-morning traffic whiz by her on the busy freeway. "Well, I guess I can always grab a slurpee instead of a martini" When the Betty Boop doll on the dashboard refused to answer, she flicked its head with a fingernail, mesmerized as she watched the ruby lipped, wide-eyed flirt bob back and forth on its firmly mounted stand.
