[HG-PBEM] Re: Elsewhere in the Sand Stone (Try #2)
- From: "Grizzly" <irongrizzly@xxxxxxxxxx>
- To: <apaworks@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Thu, 13 Feb 2003 23:55:07 -0500
> "I..." Terry shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His nervous reaction was
to
> reach for his glass and take a drink, but that would require turning
around,
> grabbing it and raising it to his lips - two actions he thought he could
no
> longer accomplish. He didn't realise it, but he was holding his breath.
A
> dull, tight pain would soon slowly radiate out from the center of his
chest.
> His eyes drifted between the colonel's smiling face and his wife's chest..
> face.
>
> "The fact of the matter is..." What came next? Someting about his skills
> in scrounging up business and... stuff like it. Her chest jiggled
> attractively
> as she leaned more weight against her husband.
>
> [Woot! Dead or Alive bouncy goodness!]
>
> "We've had a..." He stammered again. Heat rises in his cheeks.
>
> "Ah, excuse me." Standing suddenly he makes his way to the front door,
> clipping a chair painfully on the way. Outside he makes a sharp left where
> he walks jerkily until he's out of sight of the window.
>
> Lucky for him he chose the side with the overhang so he makes a b-line
> for the closest beam to bang his forehead into it.
>
> 'Good going guy. You just blew your only chance to make that first
> professional impression. Now they're going to think you're some kind of
> idiot.'
>
> 'She has a really nice body - But she's old enough to be my mother!'
> He shuddered, holding on to the fact he already has someone he likes.
>
> 'Now calm down. The longer you spend out here the worse it looks.'
> Leaning against the post he draws a shuddered breath. A few more and
> he's feeling a little better.
> 'Go back in and brush it off as feeding a parking meter or something.'
>
> [Terry will spend a minute or two collecting himself, so things could be
> going on in the room he's not privy to.]
Keavy, too slow to kick at Terry before he ran off, put her glass down and
cleared her throat. "Was that really necessary?." she asked, her question
directed toward Jezebal.
Griz
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