Samantha slid her pink panties on, and snapped her matching bra in the back. Max was watching her, with his big brown eyes. Samantha bent over, and he put his paws on her buttocks.

“Stop that!” She said. “Can’t you see that I’m late for work?”

It was September, and teachers were already falling like flies. They got these dark circles under their eyes, and couldn’t go to work. Samantha was never sick. She had milky skin and strawberry blonde hair. She reached for her golden makeup case, and painted red roses on her lips, smiling, and then kissing the mirror.

“Jeff—you son of a bitch, I’ll get you for what you did.” She looked at his black and white photograph—a stud, with literary looks, and a football chin.

Samantha slipped on her black skirt, and tied-on her red vest with frills. The boys would love it. Was she showing? Just enough. Not National Geographic, but not Sunday church either.

Samantha spent days trying on shoes. She wanted heels, but not the kind that punished her feet. She wanted spikes that would punish a man, if she needed a tactical weapon. Samantha stretched on her nylons, as they flowed out of sight.

Max grabbed her legs with his claws.

“Those aren’t for you,” Samantha said.


“Don’t worry. I’ll bring you Tuna Fish for dinner, and a bitch, if you can stop marking your territory—otherwise, the balls must go.”

“Meow.” Max ran under the bed.

“Well—I’m sorry sweety, but I’m entertaining men. I can’t have my house smelling like a litter-box.”

Samantha grabbed her purse, and surveyed her living room before she left. Max jumped onto the piano bench, and started to play. He had mischief in his eyes—like he was going to punish her for what she said, but Samantha didn’t have time to lock him in the bathroom.

Her cell phone rang…

“Just a minute—I bet it’s Margery.”

“Samantha, darling—have you found a man yet?”

“Oh, Marge—I don’t think I’m over Jeff. He’s doing so well without me—it hurts.”

“Love kills, honey. You need to find a cowboy and get back up on the horse. Have you read the Feminine Mystic—it’s the book I told you to read?”

“Well, not yet—not exactly?”

“It will teach you how to use your pussy to have power.”

“Marge—I’m going to be late for class—and I’m not sure that I buy into all that feminist crap.”

“Talk to some teachers—they’ll set you right. Honey—you had so much more potential when you were temping at the hospital. Don’t you want to marry a doctor?”

“I just want to marry a man who loves me.”

“Wake up Samantha—it’s the 21st Century!”

“Sorry Marge—gotta go. Bye.”

“Wait—were you going to come over and water my flowers?”

“Oh—that’s right. How long are you going to be visiting the vortex in Utah?”

“Until I feel the vibrations—all throughout my body. If you don’t have a man—spirituality is the next best thing, and Todd has muscular hands too. He gives me massages after my vision quests. It’s an 8-hour spa, with cucumbers and a molasses spread.”

Samantha got into her red Mercedes and turned on the butt warmers. “School starts in 15 minutes, and the substitute can’t be late.”

“Bye Dear.”


Samantha hung up. Put it in reverse. Put it in drive. And then broke the speed limit. She wasn’t going to be tardy.

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