The Chosen

right?” Vera attempted some levity, “an obvious Freudian symbol. Or maybe it’s not a dream at all. Maybe it’s one of the ghosts calling you, one that likes lingerie.” But then it occurred to her that she needn’t joke about it, for her own dreams too were indisputably sexual, and arousing to the point of disturbing her sleep. It proposed an aggravating contrast: the dreams distressed her, but at the same time she actually looked forward to them. Perhaps it was part of her subconscious that longed for what she’d been raised to believe was immoral—having sex with a person I don’t even like is definitely immoral, she reasoned—and the part of herself that was now sexually unfulfilled. Suddenly, the image returned: herself naked on her belly, panting as The Hands worked up the backs of her legs, raising her buttocks…

“What did Mr. Feldspar say about our huge turnout?” Donna asked next.

Vera was grateful for the distraction as she steered the sleek Lamborghini through another series of winding, wooded bends. “He doesn’t seem to care,” she answered. “The Carriage House is just a sideline; he doesn’t even care if it makes a profit. He’s counting on room service and accommodations to put him in the black. It’s crazy, if you ask me, but he must know what he’s doing. All of Magwyth Enterprises’ other inns are in the black. Long as we do our job we got nothing to worry about.”

Minutes later they pulled into town. main street, the central drag was originally dubbed. The town seemed repressed by the cold; only sparse traffic could be seen, and few pedestrians. An ancient barber pole twirled lazily along a row of little shops: a general store called HULL’s, a tavern called the waterin’ hole, and a farm supply store. When Vera parked, she noticed faces squinting from windows. An old man stopped in the middle of the crosswalk and stared. No doubt they’d noticed the two hundred thousand dollar set of wheels that just pulled into their one-horse burg. A sudden frigid wind bit into them when they got out of the car. Vera rushed into a hardware store, while

Donna scurried into the save-on clothing store. Vera purchased several big Master padlocks. “That’s some car ya got there, ma’am,” a tired old man remarked at the register. “It’s not mine, it’s the company’s,” she offered. “And what company might that be, if ya don’t mind my inquirin’?” “I work at The Inn,” she said. “I manage the restaurant there, The Carriage House. You should try us out.” “The Inn, you say?” he questioned. “Don’t believe I’ve ever heard of it.” “The old Wroxton Estate,” she assisted. “It’s a country-style inn now.” With that, the old man made no further comment and rather hastily bagged her locks.

All right, don’t try us out, she thought. See if I care. She found Donna raptly inspecting a small lingerie rack at the save-on. “Not exactly Fredrick’s of Hollywood,” Vera observed.

“Oh, but the prices are great,” Donna enthused, holding up a pink-lace bra that was only straps. “Three bucks!”

Vera had to frown. “There’s nothing to it, Donna. A bra with no cups?”

“Oh, Vera, where’s your sense of adventure? Men love this kind of stuff. Oh, I’ve got to get this!” Now she held up a pair of panties that looked more like a frilly g-string. “And it’s only three-fifty!”

“Yeah, and a postage stamp is only twenty-nine cents, and it would cover you more.” Vera failed to see the fascination. Maybe if I’d worn silly stuff like that, Paul wouldn’t have cheated on me, she reflected. But that was a bad subject. “I can see you’re going to be a while. I’ll meet you back here when I’m done at the bank.”

“Okay.” Now Donna inspected another bra that had holes for the nipples. “Dan B.’s gonna love this!”

I’m sure he will. Vera left and strolled down the row of shops. Now several jean-jacketed men had emerged from the tavern to look at the Lamborghini. I’ll tell them