J. Rusolo Ward

“Not again,” Lisa muttered before turning to the man tapping her shoulder.

She looked him up and down.  What was it about her that attracted middle aged men?  At least this one seemed to be in decent shape.

Still, he could be her father’s older brother.  Another dirty old man.

“Look, sir, I’m sure you’re delightful.  The ladies at the club must fawn over you.  You’re certainly not unattractive – for a man your age.  But I must wonder why you’re here?  Are you trying to impress your buddies?  Prove your sexual prowess is more than a legend?”

He opened him mouth, but she shook her head.

“I’m sure you have a great job, a hefty bank account, and the means to support me.  I’ve heard it all before.  I could pretend that I’m flattered, but I’m not.  Let’s face it, you want eye candy and a nice roll in the hay.  Maybe you’re willing to be my sugar daddy or turn me into your trophy bride.”

She paused, and sighed.  “I want more.  I’m twenty-four-years-old – I’m sure you have ties older than I am – with a promising future.  I’m entering law school in two months.  Eventually, I’d like to get married and have a family.  I don’t want to change my baby’s diaper and move on to my husband’s.”

She shrugged.  “Sorry if I sound cruel, but it had to be said.  Not just for me, but for all women.  Now, why don’t you go and find someone age appropriate.”

She turned away and took a sip of her martini.

“Nice speech.  I came over to tell you that your skirt is stuck in your underwear.”  He said.

“Oh, thanks,” she called after his retreating form.  Mortified, she fixed her skirt.  How long had it been that way?