Marcella’s feet were killing her. She hadn’t worn three inch open-toed sling backs since that doofus tripped her in the biker bar and broke her foot. Marcella’s temporary disillusionment with men sparked her interest in the theatre, where there was a more refined class of men. She convinced her sister, Desireé to accompany her to the opening of “Rent.”
During intermission, Marcella snaked her hand through tight shoulders at the bar to order a Merlot when a sudden waft of Aqua Di Gio drifted past her nose. Her head instinctively turned toward the scent and there before her stood a Kansas
Don’t even think about it, she thought to herself.
Marcella was not easily impressed by men as she’d been burnt too many times.
Desireé sensing the train wreck happening right in front of her eyes leaned into Marcella’s ear, “He’s awfully cute, he must be stupid.”
Marcella gave an opened mouthed laugh to show she was having the time of her life.
The handsome cowboy-rocker stepped right in front of her.
“Are you a poet?” slipped from Marcella’s lips.
“Why yes I am,” his eyes twinkled. “I’m a song writer,”
“Sing me something you’ve written.”
“Let’s step out side for some fresh air and I’ll sing a song.”
His voice was like a siren lulling her into a forbidden place. The full moon taunted them, peering over the theater like a spot light on Marcella and…..
What’s his name?
“I’m Marcella,” she smiled sweetly.
“Miles.”
“Miles, and miles to go before we sleep?” Marcella said with her keen wit.
“Oh, really?”
Miles knew then she was negotiable and the game began. He sang her a song under the moon light.
He waited the appropriate three days to call Marcella. Just enough time to make her apprehensive. Then he called her every night, and they talked for hours about life. He seemed to hang on her every word, asking questions and listening to her answers.
After a week of phone-play, Miles suggested he cook dinner. Marcella stocked up on Corona
Miles arrived on time, sporting his half-breed attire with his hair tied back.
They toasted the evening ahead with Corona
Marcella thought, This must be what it’s like in Heaven.
She was too excited to eat, but she munched politely on the feast before her.
After dinner Miles took her hand and they climbed the spiral staircase to Marcella’s loft bedroom.
Marcella giggled. “This is the love nest.”
Miles pulled her close, and with his full smiling lips kissed her.
This is the test….he passed.
What happened next was pretty much a mystery to Marcella.
When Miles left, he whispered softly into her ear, “I’ll call you.”
After the three day grace period had passed Marcella knew she’d probably never hear from him again. She would be wearing Whitney’s tiara for this slip-up. She began to evaluate her feelings about the sex haze she was in.
A month passed and Marcella got a tip Miles’ favorite band was playing at the local blues joint, so Marcella pulled herself together for a revenge appearance.
This is a technique Marcella has exacted to show men just what they are missing.
She reviewed the rules with Desireé.
“First you make a movie star entrance, speak to everyone you know as you enter, and pretend he’s not there, even though you know exactly where he’s standing,” Desireé reminded her. “And, under no circumstances ever let him kiss you.”
Marcella understood completely and when she lit up the room with her entrance, Miles couldn’t help but race to her. She was irresistible to him, but she turned her head when he tried to kiss her.
Pulling away, she said flatly, “Miles, I just don’t think you’re the right man for me.” Game over!
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