Corner of the Table by Paul ChabasBeacon in the Night
Look at her! That shameful black dress with one strap, both bare shoulders exposed. And she's pinned one lonely pink orchid on her bosom, like a beacon in the night drawing attention to her breasts. Look how she leans forward to expose them.
She poses attentively, supposedly enamored with that man's company. Honestly, these old grey-bearded fellows wouldn't know what to do with her. But she certainly knows what she wants to do with them!
"Emma, wouldn't you agree?"
Oh, what did she say? "I'm sorry, dear. My attention wandered..."
"I asked you if you didn't agree the banquet was going very well."
"Of course!" I reply, lifting my glass for a sip, mindful not to spill even a drop of red wine on my with white lace gown even though my hand trembles. Going well? I'm not sure if we are making money for our orphans' charity, but certainly that gold-digger of a tart is having a good night.
"Well, Charles...I mean, Mr. Forsythe, and I have an announcement to make." She nods to that gentleman, who had her attention all evening. He rises, lifting himself supported by a cane he keeps latched on the table.
"Ahem, well, Ladies and Gentlemen!" he says, turning to launch a feeble smile all around the room. "Miss Bancroft has graciously accepted my proposal for marriage. I have asked for her hand, and she has accepted."
The whore! She's caught herself a millionaire! "Miss Bancroft, may I have a word," I murmur, nodding to the old geezer next to me to help with my chair. "...in the other room."
Startled and fumbling, she rises and follows, I, myself. already being halfway to the cloak room. I spin on my heel and confront her as soon as she closes the door behind us.
"I was just wondering," I say. "May I borrow your pink flower?"
Without a word, she takes it off and hands it to me. I pin it to my gown and pause to admire the effect. It droops the fabric low, exposing my cleavage. Perfect! I nod to her to go.
Smiling, I head back to the banquet. Time to catch me a millionaire!
Copyright 2008 JO Janoski
She poses attentively, supposedly enamored with that man's company. Honestly, these old grey-bearded fellows wouldn't know what to do with her. But she certainly knows what she wants to do with them!
"Emma, wouldn't you agree?"
Oh, what did she say? "I'm sorry, dear. My attention wandered..."
"I asked you if you didn't agree the banquet was going very well."
"Of course!" I reply, lifting my glass for a sip, mindful not to spill even a drop of red wine on my with white lace gown even though my hand trembles. Going well? I'm not sure if we are making money for our orphans' charity, but certainly that gold-digger of a tart is having a good night.
"Well, Charles...I mean, Mr. Forsythe, and I have an announcement to make." She nods to that gentleman, who had her attention all evening. He rises, lifting himself supported by a cane he keeps latched on the table.
"Ahem, well, Ladies and Gentlemen!" he says, turning to launch a feeble smile all around the room. "Miss Bancroft has graciously accepted my proposal for marriage. I have asked for her hand, and she has accepted."
The whore! She's caught herself a millionaire! "Miss Bancroft, may I have a word," I murmur, nodding to the old geezer next to me to help with my chair. "...in the other room."
Startled and fumbling, she rises and follows, I, myself. already being halfway to the cloak room. I spin on my heel and confront her as soon as she closes the door behind us.
"I was just wondering," I say. "May I borrow your pink flower?"
Without a word, she takes it off and hands it to me. I pin it to my gown and pause to admire the effect. It droops the fabric low, exposing my cleavage. Perfect! I nod to her to go.
Smiling, I head back to the banquet. Time to catch me a millionaire!
Copyright 2008 JO Janoski
Darn it, Jo, you've let the secret out. Before you know it every woman, young and not so much, will be running around with boobs hanging out seeking to claim their millionaire. While I'll not be sought after I will enjoy the view just the same. Thanks.
ReplyDeleteDan, I'm happy to help!
ReplyDeleteAh, 1923 was quite a year, wasn't it? Polite society dinners have changed to gentlemen's clubs and pink flowers have morphed into lap dances, but the tools remain the same, evidently. Oh, what suckers (no pun intended) we guys are for cute pink twins.
ReplyDeleteBob, just so you don't give the "twins" names...
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed reading this, Jo! Taught me not to jump to conclusions, too. Very well written and love your sense of humor.
ReplyDeletePoetmeister...on the road to Parnassus
LOL! A great fiction really based on truth.
ReplyDelete