The Traveling Vampire Show

As if I hadn’t noticed.

“Since I was doing a wash anyway,” she said, “I figured I might as well throw in some of my own stuff.” She blushed slightly, looked as if she might add something, then turned away. “Only trouble is, I can’t get the drier to work.”

I found myself smiling.

“Looking forward to wet jeans?” Slim asked.

I shook my head. “It’s just ... I thought you’d vanished again.”

Her eyebrows soared. “What do you mean, vanished again? I’ve never vanished.”

“I thought you had.”

“Ah, but I hadn’t. I always knew where I was.”

“I guess so.”

“I know so.” She laughed a couple of times. Then she said, “So what’ll we do about the drier?”

After shrugging, I asked, “What’s wrong with it?”

“It doesn’t go. Watch.” She went to the drier. As she bent over to shut its door, the tail of her blouse slid upward a couple of inches. I tried to look away. Before I could succeed, however, she straightened up.

Before I could feel either relief or disappointment about that, however, she leaned over the top of the drier and reached for the control knobs and her blouse tail really slid up.

“See?” she asked.

I saw, all right.

“It should be going. But it’s not.”

I said, “Hmm.”

She straightened up and turned around. I must’ve been as red as ketchup, but she acted as if she didn’t notice. She also pretended not to notice the front of my towel sticking out. “Why doesn’t it want to work?” she asked.

“I’m sure it wants to.”

She smirked, but I could see she was a little amused, too. “You know what I mean,” she said.

“You sure you’re turning it on right?” I asked.

“I know how to turn on a drier.”

“I’m sure you do.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.

I tried not to grin. “Oh, nothing.”

She reached up with her right hand, flicked her middle finger and thumped the tip of my nose. Not very hard, but hard enough to make me blink and take a step backward. Also, my eyes watered.

“Oh, no,” Slim said, suddenly looking appalled. “I’m sorry. God, why do I keep doing this stuff?” She put her hands on both sides of my face, drew my head toward her and kissed me on the nose. Then she kissed me on the mouth.

I almost reached for her breasts. I remembered last time, and how they’d felt. But I also remembered the result.

Taking her by the wrists, instead, I moved her hands away from my face. Her mouth went away, too.

“I’d better take a look at the drier,” I said.

Looking me in the eyes, she nodded slightly. “Good idea,” she said, her voice low and shaky.

She stepped aside. I went to the drier. “Nothing at all happens when you turn it on, right?”

“The drier?”

“Right, the drier.”

“Right. Nothing at all happens.”

“Sounds like it might be a problem with the power.”

“Sure,” Slim said.

“Was it working before?”

“Yeah. Mom did the wash a couple of days ago. It was working fine.”

Holding on to my towel, I stepped around the side of the machine and looked behind it with high hopes of finding the power cord unplugged. But it looked secure in its socket.

“It is plugged in,” Slim told me. “I already checked that.”

“You did?”

“I’m not an idiot.”

I looked at her and grinned. “I know.”