TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BROWN"

Welcome! This week our authors are writing to the word prompt "brown." I have another episode from 

"Someone Like You.". When you're finished stop by and read the other authors' stories. You'll find them 

HERE.  

                 ***************************************************************

 “It’s settled then, Martha,” Tom Anderson said, then hung up the phone. He rubbed his stubbly chin as 

he thought about how he’d break it to his daughter. He put up another pot of coffee, then paced while 

the machine brewed.

Charlotte had always been his little girl, though he treated her more like a son than a daughter. When Corey had gone off to college and Tom’s wife passed away, Charlotte and Tom had only each other. They had grown close.

Only now with the changes coming down the pike did he realize how he’d protected her, kept her from striking out on her own. He’d always been there to take care of her and she’d always been there to take care of him.

Had he stood in her way of finding a young man and getting married? Maybe. He drew his eyebrows together as guilt gnawed at him. She’d seemed content to follow along, learn carpentry, and spend her time painting walls and working with wood. He had to admit she had a talent for creating perfect furniture. Clean lines, perfect finishes, unique designs gave her work an audience of wealthy buyers.

Over the years, Tom had kept back some of the money she’d earned. It was easy to do as she left the bookkeeping up to him. He’d squirreled it away a safe investment and over the years it had grown to quite a nest egg.

He smiled for a moment at his wisdom. Now he could sell the house, keep the proceeds to live on for himself, and turn over the money he’d saved for her without feeling guilty. The time had come for them to go their separate ways. His eyes wetted at the thought of leaving Charlotte. He had no choice.

When he heard her car door slam, he steeled himself for the conversation he had to have. The coffeemaker wheezed. He poured himself a cup, then went to the cupboard and took out a bottle of rum. He added a liberal splash to the dark brown liquid in his mug, then faced the door.

Charlotte entered.

“Hi, Pop,” she said, dropping her car keys in a bowl in the kitchen. “Coffee fresh?”

“Yep,” he said, taking a mug down from the cabinet, and reaching for the sugar bowl.

“No sugar,” she said.

“Oh, yeah. Forgot.” He filled the mug and handed it to her. “Sit down, Charlie. We gotta talk.”

She chuckled. “Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you.”

That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "SANDY"

 

  Hello and welcome! 

     It's time for Tuesday Tales again. And we have another excerpt of "Someone Like You."  Don't forget to visit all the authors here and sample their wonderful stories. Find them HERE. 

                                        *************************************************

Charlotte wondered how she’d ever be able to move out of this apartment once Mary returned. She sighed.

“Not to your liking?” Mary Walden asked.

“Oh no. Not at all. I love it. It’s like a palace. I just can’t imagine ever having to leave it.”

Mary laughed. “I will be coming back, unless I meet a wealthy count who sweeps me off my feet.”

“Really?”

“I’m kidding. You do know I write romance novels under a pen name, don’t you?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“I have a romantic imagination. Please don’t blow my cover,” Mary said, patting Charlotte’s forearm.

“Oh, I won’t.”

“I have some of my books in the living room bookcase. You’re welcome to read them.”

“I think I have a romantic imagination, too,” Charlotte said.

“Perfect! You’ll see them there. My pen name is Sandy Fontaine.”

“Thank you so much!” Charlotte said, smiling.

 Mary and Charlotte worked out the price, move-day, and how to work the locks. Charlotte wrote out a check for the first two month’s rent.

“Thank you so much,” she said.

“It is I who should be thanking you,” Mrs. Walden said. “It’s a relief to have the rent covered and to know someone will be staying here, keeping an eye on the place.”

After a brief hug, Charlotte returned to her car. On the drive home, she could not stop grinning. This would be just the beginning of her independence. But she sobered up when she realized she’d have to confront her father. She’d saved enough money to be independent for over a year. She’d taken over her father’s contracts for the University’s work. She had also established some of her own clients, like the Willow Falls Inn, and a small apartment building five miles out of town.

It was time to beef up her furniture business. Now she’d have a year on her own to  find a permanent

 apartment or maybe even buy a small house. She let out a breath. Taking the first step represented a 

huge leap for her, but she had no idea what suprise awaited her at home. 

That's all for this week. Comments are most welcome. Thanks for stopping by.  

 

  Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales again! This week we have another excerpt from "Someone Like You."  Charlotte goes looking for her own digs. When you're done reading, don't forget to hop on over and read the wonderful works of the other Tuesday Tales authors. Find their work HERE. 

                               *********************************************************  

Charlotte found three apartments looking for someone to sublet them. Mary Walden’s intrigued her because it was in an old Victorian house. She’d have the whole second floor. Itching to see it, she sent an email.

“I haven’t found anyone to take it yet. Would you like to come see it?”

“Yes, I would.”

“Can you come tonight. I’m leaving in five days and I’m dying to get the sublet sewn up.”

“Of course. What’s the address.”

Charlotte hopped in her car and drove over. From the outside, it appeared that the old house had been kept up well. It was painted a lovely yellow with white trim. She parked in the large lot behind the house and rang the bell. At the buzz, she entered and climbed a set of carpeted stairs with an old wooden banister embellished with curlicues and other intricate molding, painted white. At the top of the stairs, a large, mahogany door finished in a rich, dark brown with a fine patina greeted her.

The door opened and Mary Walden, an older woman with short gray hair, stepped aside.

“Charlotte?”

“Yes.”

‘Please come in. I’m so happy to meet you,” she said.

Charlotte entered a spacious sitting room comfortably furnished with two large sofas. There were three tall curtained windows, and a good-sized white marble fireplace and hearth. One wall sported a narrow floor-to-ceiling, built-in bookcase. A writing desk hugged one corner. The floor was a shiny wide-plank wood finished to a gleam. Two braided area rugs added warmth. Charlotte clasped her hands together and gave a small gasp.

Mary Walden’s brow furrowed. “Something wrong?”

“Oh no. Quite the opposite. It’s perfect. Like stepping back in time.”

Mary Walden smiled. “Oh, good. I’m so glad you like it. Let me show you the bedroom, kitchen and den.” 

       Her heart sped up as she followed Mary from one beautiful room to another. Was it a dream? Even if she only lived there for three months, it was so,  much more than she had hoped. 

        Visions of curling up on the sofa with her crush, maybe a small fire on a cool early fall evening floated through her mind. 

         "Dr, Garrett's going to love it," she mumbled to herself. 

        "Who?" Ms. Walden asked. 

         Charlotte bluxhedd. "Nothing."

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. Don't forget to leave a comment! 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "CUP"

 

Good day! This week we have more of "Someone Like You". It's a bit spicier than usual, so be 

forewarned. Nothing too explicit, just suggestive. I hope you like it. Please leave a comment, I love 

comments! 

Don't forget to make the rounds. Find the wonderful stories of the other Tuesday Tales writers HERE! 

                                  *************************************************

Her mind zeroed in on Mark Garrett. She wondered what he looked like naked. Was he hairy or smooth, muscular or scrawny? She giggled to herself that the stereotype of a professor was brainy not brawny. She liked that he was smart, but brawny men in movies and on television captured her more erotic fantasies.

If she was really going to do this, she needed a place of her own. The picture of trying to sneak Mark Garrett into her bedroom with her father snoring down the hall made her laugh out loud. That would never do. If she would have an intimate relationship with the professor, it would have to be in a private place – her place, not his. She’d never be comfortable on foreign ground.

Where could she find an apartment before the dance? The school Facebook page, or the local newspaper’s website. She’d get busy tomorrow searching for just the right place. No way could she furnish a whole apartment in such a short time. Maybe she could find a sublet? Some professors go on sabbatical and travel abroad. She’d seen ads for those. That would perfect.

Comfortable she’d solved that problem, she closed her eyes and imagined what his long, slender fingers

 would feel like cupping her in private places. She sighed and let sleep overtake her, shepherding her 

into erotic dreams.

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - MACHINE

 Howdy do and welcome! This week we're writing our stories to the word prompt "machine." I have more of my story that didn't have a name, but now does. It's titled, "Someone Like You." When you'r'e done, bop on over to read the other authors' stories. You'll find them HERE. 

                                ********************************************************

Charlie stepped out of the shower and wrapped herself in a terry robe. The house was chilly. She turned up the heat.

“It’s freezing in here,” she said.

“Don’t be wasting heat,” Tom said, washing dishes.

“I contribute to this house and I’m not going to be freezing my backside off because you’re cheap,” she said. She cranked the machine up another two degrees just for spite.

Tom continued on in silence. She knew he was pissed. Charlie went to her room and shut the door. She’d been living here too long. Desire for her own place grew every year she stayed. Her phone rang.

“Hi, Corey. What’s up.”

“My miracle worker bride pulled it off.”

“Pulled what off?” Charlie asked.

“She got Professor Garrett to agree to chaperone.”

Silence. Charlie plopped down, cross-legged on her bed.

“You there?” Corey asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Just surprised.”

Corey laughed. “Now you gotta go.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Aw, come on! You’re gonna get me in trouble. And poor Mark Garrett is going to be disappointed because the coolest girl isn’t going to be there.”

“Good try, Corey,” she said, supressing a laugh.

“Come on, Charlotte. Don’t you want a chance to meet him when you’re looking like a girl?”

She bit her lip. With his usual perception, Corey had hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what she wanted, what she’d prayed for. Now that it was possible, could she handle it?

“I don’t have anything to wear,” she said, embarrassed at how lame it sounded.

“Don’t give me that bullshit. Kitty will take you shopping. I’ll give you the money! It’s time you stopped hiding behind Charlie,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

“Okay, okay. I’ll go.”  She chewed her lip.

“You won’t regret it.”

“Thanks, Corey,” she said.

“Goodnight,” he said and was off.

Why couldn’t more men be like Corey? Would she find out what Mark Garrett was really like? And would she regret it? She slipped a flannel nightgown over her head and crawled into bed. The book she’d been reading, House of Mirth by Edith Wharton didn’t capture her interest. She put the book down and doused the light.

Lying in the dark, Charlotte let dreams of love, independence, and sex breeze through her mind. If she was going to put Charlotte on display, she’d better be ready. As she lay sleepless in the chilly room, she pulled up the comforter to her chin.

That's all. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "STUNNING

 

Welcome! This week we have more conversation between Mac and Callie int he story with no name. They were among my first heroes and heroines. I still love them and their banter comes back to me just like it was long ago when they first came into my life. I hope you enjoy this snippet and you go on to read the rest of the stories by my esteemed colleagues. Find their stories HERE. 

     

              ******************************************************************

Mac turned to his wife. “So who is this chick you’re foisting off on poor, unsuspecting Professor Garrett?”

“You know her.”

“I do?” Mac raised an eyebrow.

“Yep. It’s Charlie, the painter.”

“Who?”

“Charlie,” Callie repeated, patiently.

“That woman in man’s clothing?”

“Mac, please keep an open mind. She dresses that way because she spends her day fixing plaster, painting walls, doing dirty, physical work.”

“A man’s work.”

“Your prejudice is showing.”  Callie pushed to her feet.

“Honestly, Callie. I’m just telling it as I see it. She’s a mess.”

“Sure, when she’s working. But I’m betting that under that paint smudged face and ungainly hat is a stunning young woman.”

“How can you tell?” he asked.

“I can’t.” she strolled into the kitchen.

“So you’re taking a risk? Rolling the dice, gambling on Mark Garrett’s goodwill?” He followed her.

“You could put it that way. But if I’m right, he’ll be the big winner,” Callie said, opening the fridge.

“And so will she. He’s a pretty hot guy, I’m guessing.”

“Yes. And, yes, she will be. It’s a win/win, if I’m right.”

“And if you’re wrong?” Mac asked, cocking one eyebrow.

“Let’s not go there,” Callie said, pulling a frown. “Hmm. Left over lasagne or pizza?”

“I had the pizza for lunch,” Mac said.

“Then lasagne it is. Will you make a salad?” She asked. Pulling a large glass pan from the fridge shelf and placing it on the counter.

“Sure.” Mac stepped up to the fridge and opened the crisper drawer.

“Just think of the outcome, if I’m right,” she said.

“Should I brush off my tuxedo?” He grinned.

“That might be a bit premature,” she laughed.

“I never doubt your nose for these things. You have a 100 percent win record as a matchmaker.”

“Fingers crossed that holds this time, too,” she said, her voice hopeful. 

Mac placed lettuce and other salad fixings on the kitchen table, then joined his wife at the stove. “It’s a slam dunk, with you pulling the strings, baby,” he said, leaning over to kiss his wife.

                               **************************************** 

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Word prompt "Write"

 

Welcome! This week we're writing to the word prompt "write" - how appropriate! This week we have a throwback, flash from the past - Mac and Callie from one of my very first series. We get an interaction between then and their 25-year-old daughter. I loved writing this. I love Mac and Callie and it's a joy to have them resurrected! We're back at the president's residence on the campus of Kensington State University. Don't forget to read all the stories. Find them HERE. 

                  *************************************************************

"Cocktail?" Mac asked. 

Callie checked her watch. "Yes." 

Mac cocked an eyebrow. 

"Surprise me," Callie responded. 

After two children and twenty-six years of marriage, Callie and Mac had their own language. Mac mixed two gin and tonics. 

"It's warm today," he said, handing her the drink. 

She took a sip. "Delicious. Refreshing." 

He smiled and took a seat on the sofa. Callie sat nexto to him and snuggled up. Mac draped a long arm around her and pulled her close. Their daughter, Kitty, stood in the doorway. 

"Oh, God. Do you guys still have to do that?" 

"What?" Callie asked, raising her eyebrows in fake innocence. 

"You know what, Mom." 

"I like your father. This drink is cold and he's warming me up. He's a regular heat machine."

"Please! Don't go there! So...did you get it done?" Kitty raised her eyebrows. 

"Was there ever any doubt?" Mac asked with a grin. 

"Really?" 

"Your mother could talk a man dying of thirst in the desert out of his canteen," he said, not without a certain pride.

"Oh, Mac, You exaggerate!" Callie said, laughing. 

"You did, Mom?" Kitty's voice held hope. 

"I did. It was easy. Does Charlie really like him that much?" Callie asked. 

"I'm not supposed to say, but, yes, she does. I don't see the connection, but..." Kitty shrugged her shoulders. 

"We don't get to write the script for someone else's life. They do seem to be the odd couple," Callie said. 

"They said that about us, too. Don't you remember?" Mac asked. 

Callie smiled. "Oh, yes, I remember." She leaned over to peck Mac on the cheek. "And they were wrong. After all this time your father still rings my chimes," Callie cooed. 

"Oh, gross! I'm going. Thank you, Mom," Kitty said,  rushing out of the room to the tinkle of laughter from her parents.  

                     ******************************************************

That's all this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "BEAT"

 

Welcome to another week of Tuesday Tales! This week we're writing to the word prompt "beat". I have another excerpt from my story with no name. I hope you enjoy it. Don't forget to visit the other authors. Find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by.

                                    *****************************************************

Frustrated, Kitty did what she always did when confronted with a problem she couldn’t solve, she called on her mother. Callie Caldwell had been the go=to person in the family for problem solving ever since Kitty could remember. She picked up the phone.

“Mom? II need your help,” Kitty said, chewing her lip.

“You know how to capture my interest, don’t you?”

“Well, yeah. I guess.”

Then she explained about Professor Mark Garrett refusing to chaperone the dance and Corey adamant about making his sister’s dreams come true.

“Oh, my. Foster romance? Right up my alley. Don’t worry. I’ll think of something.”

“Thanks, Mom. Can I tell Corey it’s done?”

“Not yet. Tell him I’m working on it.”

Callie put up another pot of coffee. She carried a cup into her husband’s office. Mac Caldwell had risen from dean to university president, but he was the same old Mac to his wife.

“Mac, how well do you know Dr. Mark Garrett?” she asked, handing him the beverage then sitting down beside him on the sofa.

“As well as I know any of the professors, I guess. Why?”

“Is he a competitive guy?”

“What guy isn’t?” Mac cracked a smile.

 When they finished their coffee, Callie wandered over to the English department. Charlie was still working on Corey’s office. Callie waved briefly, then headed for Dr. Garrett’s office.

“Hi, Mark,” she said, breezing in.

“Hi, Callie. How are you?”

“I’m good. I just heard something, and I wondered if you’d heard it, too.”

“What’s that?” he asked, rising from behind his desk.

“Well, I heard that a really hot young woman, a family friend of Mac’s, is coming to the dance. Buzz McBride, is bragging he’s going to take her home.”

“Really?” Mark raised an eyebrow. “That Neanderthal?”

“Football coach is pretty hot. He volunteered to chaperone.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. So if you want to relinquish the job…”

“No, no. Kitty asked me and I thought I might have a schedule conflict. As it turns out, I don’t.”

“Great! You’ll chaperone?”

“Sure. Why not?”

"Thanks."

Callie ambled across campus and back to the president's residence. 

"Well? How'd it go?" Mac asked. 

"I love it when I can beat a man at his own game." 

That's all for now. Don't forget to leave a comment. See you next week!

Tuesday Tales - Word prompt "Harsh"

 

Welcome! This week, we are writing to the word prompt "harsh". I have another excerpt from my new story, which still doesn't have a name. It's a continuation from last week. Don't forget to read all the stories in Tuesday Tales. Find them HERE. 

                                 *************************************************

Charlie turned the car on and headed back to campus.

“You’re taking me back to school? Weren’t you heading home?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Very nice of you, Sis. Thanks,” Corey said.

When they arrived at the small apartment building for professors, he got out.

“Don’t forget about the dance,” he said.

“Yeah. Sure,” Charlie said and waved as she pulled away.

Corey put his garment in his closet and rushed out of the building. He went to the faculty lounge where his fiancée, Kitty Caldwell, would be. She was getting her Master’s in English and, as the daughter of the president, she was granted faculty lounge privileges. She’d spend the morning reading and studying in a comfortable leather wing chair in the corner of the large, book-lined study.

The room was a silent room – no talking. Corey burst in, hurried across the room, and grabbed Kitty by the hand.

“I have to talk to you,” he whispered.

“Shhh,” came from a chair across the room.

Kitty followed him into the corridor. “What is it? What’s so urgent?”

“I promised Charlie Professor Garrett would be chaperoning the dance.”

“You what? I told you he’d already turned me down.”

“Yeah, I know…”

“So you lied?”

“I guess. It’s just that she’s so lonely. So is he. They’d be a great couple.”

Kitty cocked an eyebrow. “And you’re so sure they’re going to fall madly in love with each other at the dance?”

“No, no, of course not. But, he’d get a chance to see her looking like a girl,  for a change, instead of a guy.”

“That's a bit harsh,” Kitty said, shifting her weight. “I’ll see what I can do. But you shouldn’t have promised.”

He kissed her. “I know I shouldn’t have. But Charlie needs a break. Thanks. You’re the best,” he said, then hurried out the door as he was running late to his next class.

 "Wait! I didn't say I could!" Kitty called after him. 

 

 That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "RIDE"

 

Welcome! It's time for Tuesday Tales again. This week we have more of my Kensington State University story with no name. Don't forget to read the stories by our wonderful group of writers. Find them HERE. 

                   ****************************************************

Charlie put down the roller, stood back and surveyed the walls. They were pristine. And her paint job? Perfect, as usual. After she finished, the bigger job began – cleanup. She scrubbed her hands in the ladies room, put her tools in a satchel and ambled down the hall on her way home.

A poster in bright pink and green drew her  eye. It read:

 

                 The Spring Dance is Coming

                 Saturday, April 5, 8pm

                 The Gym

                Admission: $10.

 

Charlie made a face and said to herself, “Hah! Just saved ten bucks.” When she got outside, the honking of a car got her attention. Corey, her brother, sat in the passenger seat of her car.

“I need a ride to town. Figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Where to?”

“Cleaners. Gotta pick up my sports jacket,” he said.

She put the car in gear. “What do you need your sports jacket for?”

“The dance. You going?”

“Me?” she gave a derisive laugh. “No. Of course not.”

“Really? That’s too bad. I heard Professor Garrett’s going to be there,” he said, glancing out the window.

Charlie screeched on the brakes.

“What the Hell? What are you doing?”

A driver leaning on his horn sped by, giving her the finger.

“Sorry. I didn’t see that car.”

“I guess not.” Sweat beaded on Corey's forehead. 

“Are you sure Professor Garrett is going?”

“Kitty asked him to chaperone,” Corey lied.

“And he agreed? He seems to shy to want to do that.”

“Well, all the professors are required to do that kinda stuff. That’s what Kitty said.”

They drove on in silence for a half mile.

“Change your mind about the dance?” her brother asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe,” she replied, pulling up to the curb.

That's all until next week. Thanks for stopping by. 

Tuesday Tales - Word Prompt "sharp"

 

   Welcome! This week we are writing to the word prompt "sharp". I have more of my new story without a name. Hop on over and read the other stories by our wonderful writers. Find them HERE. Thanks for stopping by. 

****************************************** 

Charlotte parked in the faculty parking lot and hauled her paint cans, brushes, rollers, blue tape, and dropcloth into her brother’s new office. Once she had everything moved away from the wall, and covered with the dropcloth, she walked down to the janitor’s closet. There she found the step ladder she needed.

She taped the top of the walls, then painted the ceiling. When she finished, she stopped to take a bathroom break. One look in the mirror corroborated her surmised that her face was probably covered with tiny splotches of paint. Fortunately the cap covered her hair completely. Getting white paint out of dark auburn hair would be a giant pain.

She wiped her face off and returned to the room. As she finished taping off the walls, she heard voices in the hall. She peeked around the corner. It was her brother and Professor Mark Garrett! And they were right outside the door.

“Oh, Mr. Anderson, I found this book in your old office. Poetry for your girlfriend? Those are favorite poets of mine, too.”

“Girlfriend? Let’s see,” there was silence for a moment, then Corey’s voice continued with a laugh. “No, that’s not my girlfriend. That’s my sister, Charlotte.”

“Oh, really? You have a sister?”

“Yes.”

“Does she go to school here?” the professor asked.

At this point Charlie silently snuck outside and stood behind  the professor’s back. She drew Corey’s attention and made a sharp motion across her neck with her finger. Corey smiled at her. She glared back and made the motion again, then scooted back into the room and hid behind her roller.

“No, no. She doesn’t,” Corey said. “Say, look I’m going to be late. I have a session with HR. Good to see you, Professor Garrett,” Corey said.

The voices stopped. Charlie leaned back against the unpainted wall and sighed.

“Close call,” she said.  

That's all for this week. Thanks for stopping by. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "WHITE"

 

Welcome! This week we're writing to the word prompt "white", which fits in perfectly with my new story. The book still has no name, but it's calling me. I hope you enjoy the snippet. Don't forget to visit the other authors and read their great works. Find them HERE. 

                       ******************************************************

Monday morning, Charlotte prepared scrambled eggs and bacon for her father and sat down across from him at their little kitchen table.

“You painting today or working on a new table?” he asked.

“Painting,” she replied before shoveling a forkful of eggs into her mouth.

“I’ll drop you off at the English department. I need the truck to haul Corey’s stuff to the house he’s renting,” Tom Anderson said.

“Okay. Do we know what color they want the offices painted?”

“I’m guessing the usual linen white, but Callie’s note didn’t say.”

“Got it. Let’s stop at the hardware store. I need two more cans.”

Tom nodded, finished his food and loaded the dishes in the dishwasher.

“I’ll be ready in ten,” Charlotte said, picking up the last piece of bacon and hurrying out the door.

Tom pulled the truck up in front of Larch Hardware.

“Don’t be jawin’ forever with Derek,” he said.

“I won’t,” Charlotte said.

Derek Larch, the son of the owner, flirted with Charlotte every time she entered.

“Charlie! Been a long time. What can I do for you?” he said, coming out from behind the counter and running his fingers through his blond hair.

“Hi, Derek. Need paint.”

“What color?”

Charlotte gave him the paint specs, then picked out a new roller and a roll of blue tape.

While the paint was mixing, he wandered over. “Changed your mind about marrying me?” he asked.

She laughed. “You ask me that every time. The answer is still “no”.”

“Some day I’m gonna see you out of that baggy jumpsuit.”

“Derek!” Charlotte drew her hand up over her chest and feigned a shocked expression.

He colored. “You know what I mean. Dressed like a girl.”

“Don’t hold your breath.”

“How about a movie? Or dinner? Thursdays is meatloaf night at Tony’s.”

“Thanks, Derek. I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. How could she tell him Professor Mark Garrett owned her heart, even though he’d never had much conversation with her, let alone seen her dressed as a girl.

That's all for today. Thanks for stopping by. Please leave a comment if you have a moment. 

TUESDAY TALES - WORD PROMPT "PERFECT"

Welcome!  This week we are writing to the prompt "perfect". We have another excerpt from my book with no name. This excerpt is a peek into Professor Mark Garrett. When you finish reading it, hop on over and read the other writers stories. Find them HERE.  

                *****************************************************

Professor Mark Garrett hated sitting alone at University functions. Ever since his wife, Susan, passed away, he was forced to participate on his own. Friends had been kind. He’d been invited to many homes of other professors for dinner and fixed up with a multitude of single women.

He drew the line at mixing with those enrolled at the University. He’d worked hard to establish a stellar reputation and would do nothing to tarnish it, especially for a roll in the hay. 

It had been almost five years now. He’d given himself many lectures that it was time to start over, to begin a new chapter of his life. Still, he put his energies into work and tried to ignore his loneliness. He clung to a romantic, if childish, notion that when the right woman came along, he’d snap out of his depression, spring into action, and find his happily-ever-after. 

After the ceremony, he returned to his old office to pick up his briefcase bulging with student papers to read and grade. One the desk sat a slim volume of poetry titled, From Wordsworth to Frost. Those were two of his favorites.

He wondered who it belonged to, so he lifted the cover to see if there was a name inside. There was an inscription.

 

                Charlotte –

              Merry Christmas.

             L.,

            Corey

 

Corey? Must be Corey Anderson. Could Charlotte be his girlfriend? Probably. Mark smiled. He’d given Susan a volume of poetry when she was in college. It tickled him to see this as the perfect romantic gift again so many years later. He wondered who this person, Charlotte, could be? Certainly no one in any of his classes. He would have remembered such a pretty name.   

 

That's it for this week. Thanks for stopping by.