of toast in the toaster. “This time is going to be different. This time I’m not looking for a husband; I’m looking for fun.”
Candice took her tea, toast, a pencil, and the pad of paper she’d started writing her poem on the day before out onto the wonderful wood deck that wrapped the length of the back of her house and looked out into the woods that surrounded Mysteria. She curled up cross-legged on the comfortable wicker rocker that sat beside the little wicker table.
It was such a beautiful day! The woods, always magical (literally and figuratively) looked like a romantic dream come to life. All that it lacked was the knight and the white horse and . . .
Good lord! What was happening to her? She was making her own self sick.
“Snap out of it and get to writing so you can get to the good stuff tonight.” Then, humming “Tonight, Tonight” from
She smiled and began to write from there.
Two hours later she should have been frustrated and annoyed. She was, after all, staring at the same line she’d written earlier and nothing else was coming. Well, not exactly nothing. She’d written line after line after line, but nothing seemed to work. Nothing could begin to capture the new, crystal bright feeling of happiness and expectation that was building inside of her, and that was the feeling she wanted her poem to evoke.
“Ah, hell! Never mind. I’ll write it tomorrow.” She had a date to get ready for, a really hot date at that, which called for eyebrow plucking, leg shaving, a full pedicure and manicure, and lots of hair primping. Not to mention that she was going to dig through some of the boxes she’d moved into the basement to find what she’d done with her really sexy lingerie.
“Tonight I will not be wearing a sports bra and grandma panties,” she promised the air around her. Had she not been so busy trying (unsuccessfully) not to giggle like a girl, she would have noticed the gaggle of pink-winged fairies who, overhearing her, had taken off in a burst of silver glitter and musical laughter out over the trees, heading in the direction of their favorite witch’s house.
Justin wanted to do something special for her. He’d been up most of the night thinking about what he could do—and about her. Her skin and her body . . . he’d never felt anything as lush and inviting. So this was what it was like to be with a woman versus a girl! Twenty-somethings paled in comparison to Candice. And he could talk to her! He’d actually talked with her about dreams he’d thought were long dead. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d even thought about painting, yet here he was, heading to her place with the huge book he’d checked out from the library, one with glossy, full-color pictures of famous pieces of art, tucked under his arm. With his other arm he carried a bag filled with several cuts of prime fillet steaks from his family’s restaurant, each broiled and spiced to perfection, and one of the brightly checked tablecloths they used in the dining room. He smiled as he got closer to her house and left the road to circle around to her backyard. When he could peer through the thick trees and just barely make out her deck, he put the book and the bag down, spread the tablecloth out over the leafy ground, and opened the boxes, letting the aroma of expensive steak waft in the light evening breeze.
He didn’t have long to wait. He heard their giggles and the whirring of their wings before he saw them. Then, poof! He was standing in the center of a cloud of fairies who, as soon as they spotted the steaks, squealed with pleasure and began a dive-bomb-like descent.
“Wait!” He growled menacingly and stood protectively over the delectable meal. The fairies paused, midswoop. “If you want the steaks you have to do something for me.”
Four of the glittering miniature nymphs glided toward him. They were only about as big as an outstretched hand, but their beauty was not diminished by size. They smiled coquettishly at him.
“We know you, wolfman,” the four trilled together, magically harmonizing. “We’ve often watched you pleasure females in the forest.” They ran their hands suggestively down their naked bodies. “We would be happy to do
He quickly put his hands up, as if fending off an attack. “No, no, no. You don’t understand. The favor I need is not quite so personal.”
“What a shame.” They pouted prettily.
“Do you want the steaks or not?” He already knew their answer. Fairies craved red meat, but they never got enough. They could really be a pain in the ass; they were almost as bad as termites or fleas. His dad had to spray the restaurant for them monthly.
“We want the meat!” the entire group answered together.
“Good. Then this is all I need you to do.” He picked up the thick art book and then hesitated before he opened it to one of the three pages he’d marked earlier. “Do you know the teacher who lives in the cabin right there?” He pointed through the trees at Candice’s house.
As a group the fairies nodded.
“You know what she looks like?”
They nodded again, causing their long, shining hair to sparkle and glisten and float around them like slightly tarnished, then glittered, haloes.
“Excellent. Here’s what I need you to do . . .” Justin opened the book. The fairies flocked around him, making curious little cooing noises as he gave them their orders.
Candice was going to be totally surprised!
Candice was sitting in her wicker chair sipping an excellent glass of chilled chardonnay when he stepped out of the forest and onto the grass of her backyard. There was just enough light left in the dusky sky to see that his smile was reflected by the sparkle in his amber eyes.
“Hello, Ms. Cox,” he said mischievously.
“Hello, Justin,” she said in her best teacher voice. “Did you stop by for a little detention?”
“I don’t know.” His grin widened. “I think I’ve been a pretty good boy lately.”
“Yes, you certainly have,” she said, feeling suddenly very warm.
“Not that I wouldn’t like being locked in a room alone with you.”
“So my surprise has to do with locks?”
“No, Miss Impatient. Nothing like that.” He climbed the deck stairs and leaned down to kiss her lightly. “You look beautiful tonight. Love the short skirt.”
Candice didn’t think she’d ever been so grateful for having good legs.
“Thank you. Wine?” she offered.
“I’d love some, thanks.”
