The Game
Page 8
“Good for you, bro. Just don’t get stranded up here again.”
Frank grinned. “Actually, I was thinking of doing just that with Brad.”
“As long as it isn’t in two weeks.” Marcie got out her planner and pulled up her schedule. “Hey, you know what next week is?”
“Haven’t a clue.” Shari took one more drag of coffee and offered the remaining drink to Dave. “Tell us.”
“Hanukah.” She reached into her coat pocket and drew out the small wooden top. And smiled. “Good thing I brought this back with me.” Her smile broadened into a sly little grin. “Anyone want to make a date to play strip-dreidel with me?”
One by one the others nodded.
Epilogue
“Are you ever going to tell Marcie and Frank who made that call?” Shari snuggled closer next to Dave and pulled the covers over their sweaty bodies. “Marcie is still convinced it was a miracle.”
Dave cupped her breast and tightened the new tweezer clamps he’d gotten her for a gift before he answered. “Well, I guess you could paraphrase the words on the dreidel and say ‘a great miracle happened there’ because, to tell you the truth, we didn’t have enough fuel for the generator to last another day. If we hadn’t been dug out in time, things would have been desperate.” He chuckled. “I didn’t realize my gran was seeing anyone. Irving Rabinowitz, my gramp’s pinochle buddy. She asked him to call when she remembered I said we were going up there.” He smiled. “Said she had the county’s emergency number in my gramp’s papers. Good thing she found them.” His smile thinned. “I didn’t tell you. That bastard caretaker was picked up this morning. He’s going to be charged with fraud, grand larceny…can’t remember everything. It pays to have friends in the legal system.”
Shari shifted, pushing her butt back against Dave’s burgeoning penis and wriggled like a puppy finding a bone. “We’ll tell them this weekend when we get to see them.”
“Oh, yeah. The lady of the manor. I’m looking forward to it.” He paused. “You know, I planned that weekend in the cabin to learn more about you. Who would have thought I’d learn so much about myself…and Frank.”
“We all did. Even Marcie, and she’s the most comfortable-in-her-own-skin person I know.” She paused. “Guess what she told me at work this morning?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“She’s joined a singles club at the Temple near the magazine’s office.” She giggled. “She got hooked on your penis, so she’s going after more of the same! She figured there are bound to be some nice, adventurous Jewish boys who would be interested in playing the harem love slave scenario with her!”
“Now that would be a real miracle!”
The End
Publisher’s Note
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About Jeanne Barrack
Jeanne Barrack, born in Brooklyn, has been married to her high school sweetheart for over forty years. You can find her relaxing with her hubby, volunteering, and writing. Jeanne’s love of all things Irish and Israeli color much of her work, which ranges the gamut from sexy fantasy, historical tales, to contemporary stories.
Jeanne plays guitar and sings professional folk music to Grand Opera in ten languages including Gaelic and Hebrew.