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Carla and Alice

“Lada dedadeda de, la de da, la de da,” Carla hummed a snippet of Mozart’s Minuet in G to herself as she dialed the phone.

“Hi, Carla! What are you up to, girlfriend?” Alice asked into the phone.

“How did you know… oh, duh. Caller ID. Silly me. I just finished an experiment, and thought I’d bring it over to share, and get yours and Gerald’s opinion on it,” Carla replied.

“Experiment, huh? So you want me to be your guinea pig? How do I know it’s edible? What is it, anyway?”

“I promised the Women’s Club I’d bring a homemade cheese cake to our next meeting, and since I hadn’t made one in about three years, thought I’d better do an experimental run. I think it’s pretty good, but I upped the ratio of lemon juice, and wanted someone who isn’t quite as enamored of tart flavors as I to taste it.”

“Well, I can taste it for you, but if you want Gerald’s opinion, you’ve called on the wrong weekend. He and his brother Ron are in Maine, salmon fishing with their father this week.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that,” Carla lied. “Well, you can taste it and see what you think. That is, if you haven’t anything on today.”

“Well, actually, I AM clothed, but that could be easily remedied,” Alice laughed.

“Smart ass,” Carla replied. “Not on, as in ‘wearing anything’, Silly, on as in ‘going on’.”

“Nothing special. I was just going to do some laundry, and read Lush stories on my laptop while I sit on the washer during the spin cycle.”

Carla giggled, and said, “I’ll be over in about fifteen … no, on second thought, make that an hour. That way, you’ll have time to get yourself off and catch your breath before I get there.”

“Why not just come over now? You can help.”

“Help you do laundry?” Carla asked in mock horror.

“No, Silly. The other.”

Carla giggled. “I thought you’d never ask. I’ll be right over.”

She hung up the phone, gathered up her purse and the cheese cake, and headed toward the front door. She glanced at herself in the hall mirror as she passed, and suddenly realized she needed to put something on over the tank top, in case she should meet anyone on the street. It would never do to put someone’s eye out with these sharp nipples, she thought to herself, as she pulled a sweatshirt over her head. She slipped her feet into a pair of flats, and went out the door.

Updated: December 21, 2016 — 11:11 pm
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