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’ That was a curve ball. Technically, Miranda wasn’t ‘out’ yet. For some reason, Jackson thought that Skyler was a man. Miranda wanted to tell her fiancee the truth, she really did. Then again, assumption was a rather tacky thing. Still, the question itself was a curve ball. The java went down Miranda’s throat and then it made a u-turn. It decided that Miranda’s swallowing organs were to strong to resist. ‘Are you ok?’ asked Jackson, patting his future wife on the back. He wondered what his mother was thinking. Was she concerned about Miranda’s welfare? ‘Sit down, sit down,’ yelped Miranda. She pushed her in law’s away with a wild gesture of her hands. Miranda felt sick. The scent of imported furniture polish made her gag. The in-laws took their place on the sofa. They were sitting opposite of the lovebirds and the lovebirds were seated on a black recliner with an aqua cushion. Jackson took his place beside Miranda and then he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. His hand slid down. Your training anticipated encounters with men like me, contemporary successors to the Celtic chieftains. Follow your destiny, Maureen. Show me how you revere the ancient rituals of Mid-Summer’s Eve.’ Mr. Rubin relaxed into the cushions without wavering in his attentiveness to the lust nourishing female standing before him. Maureen realized that she was to be Mr. Rubin’s Mid-Summer Eve’s dream cum true. She fell into character and stretched her statuesque body taller. She drew back the red locks falling on her cheeks and flicked the long strands behind her shoulders. She held Mr. Rubin’s gaze with the self-confident poise she had accrued at TWA. Maureen’s let her high heeled foot tap to the tempo of the music and her hips slipped side-to-side with the beat. The lame dress spritzed prickles of reflected light. Her hands bunched her long red hair above her head as she slowly turned in place, oscillating her body packed inside the clinging dress, eyes locked on the admiring Mr. Rubin. On.
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