by John Foltin
She took off her dress. “I want to feel you inside me.”
As I entered her cave, I started digging. As I dug, I could hear her sing “Heigh ho!” As I continued to dig, her voice went from alto to soprano. The mirror may have said she was the fairest of all, but she could be a nasty girl when she wanted to be. She looked snow white on the outside, but there was a dark side to her.
As I left, she gave me a new name: Stiffy.
I’d tried three different parts of the forest. The next day, I tried the one part I hadn’t.
I came across a line of men waiting. I decided to see what they were waiting for. After an hour, I saw the most beautiful woman I had ever seen asleep on a slab.
The men were kissing her, trying to wake her up. With every kiss, she remained asleep.
Finally, it was my turn, and I didn’t want sloppy seconds. Or sloppy sixty-seconds.
I pulled down her panties and dropped my drawers. I inserted my key to try and unlock this treasure. After a few minutes, I noticed movement in her. Another few minutes later, I heard a scream. Looks like I’d unlocked the treasure.
“My prince. I am grateful for you waking me from my slumber. I am at your beck and call.”
Now, I was hardly a prince, but who was I to turn down such an offer?
And I lived happily ever after.
MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS?
What would happen if you suddenly came into a lot of money? How would people around you react? How would you react to them?
I was your typical hard-working person, working a typical nine-to-five job. I worked just to make ends meet. Like your normal person, I tried that get-rich-quick scheme every now and again. You guessed it: the lottery.
Once a week at the gas station, I purchased two dollars in Powerball tickets. I played the same two sets of numbers every week. 10-13-14-23-34-36 and 3-9-12-13-23-37. Thirteen was my lucky number. I played them every week, despite the fact that I’d never matched more than two at a time.
Until this week. I patiently watched TV like I did every Saturday at 7:30. I waited to see if I had won the jackpot, now at $130 million. They drew the numbers. Thirty-seven. The year my father was born. Twelve. Three. The month and day he was born. That was three.
Twenty-three. Nine. The day and month my father passed away on. I jumped out of my seat. That was five.
I dropped to my knees and started praying. “Please. Let that last number be thirteen. Please. Please. Please.” They drew the number. Thirteen! I jumped so high that I almost hit my head on the ceiling. I shouted like I’d never shouted before. I won $130 million. Or just a part of it. Depends if anyone else hit those six numbers.
The next day, I was waiting outside the state lottery office, winning ticket in hand. I looked around. No one in sight. The doors opened. The only people here were me and the employees. They made me sign a ton of paperwork, claiming the ticket, taking taxes out, the whole ball of wax.
I walked outside. Press everywhere. Flashes going off left and right. Microphones shoved in my face. A barrage of questions. I pushed my way to my car and drove off.
Outside my house, even more press. I forced my way through the crowd and into my house. My answering machine had about a hundred messages. Some from reporters wanting interviews. Some from long-lost relatives who just happened to turn up, asking for a hand-out. Some from women wanting to meet me. I ignored the first two and jotted down the ladies’ numbers.
The calls continued all day long. It got to the point that I turned off the ringer on my phone. When they couldn’t call, they came to the door. Finally, I’d had enough. I decided to call a press conference to answer all questions.
“Thank you all for coming. First of all, I appreciate all the attention I’ve received in the last 24 hours. No, I don’t know how I’m going to spend my earnings yet. To all my ‘long-lost relatives’, forget a hand-out. Yes, I do plan to quit my job, but I will not sit on my butt all day long. I plan to be active.
“And finally, I have gotten many calls and letters from many single women. Yes, I am single and looking. So, to remedy both situations, I propose the following. Saturday, at my house, I will interview all single women that show up. From those, I will choose a select few. From those, I will select just one. Just so you know, sucking up doesn’t work. Looks aren’t everything. I want to meet people who are interested in me, not my money. Thank you.”
I thought up five questions to ask each lady. I knew what kind of turnout I was going to get. I braced for it.
I woke up at eight o’clock Saturday morning. I looked out the window. There was a line already formed and wrapping around the corner. I dressed in my best suit. I set up my sign-in sheet. I opened the door.
“Ladies, please. If you would, please sign in before the interview. Just leave your name and phone number, and I will be with you momentarily.”
I proceeded to the dining room. I had a table and two chairs set up. As each woman entered, I asked each the same five questions.
“Question one: What kind of things do you like to do?”
“Question two: What brings you here today?”
“Question three: What would we do on our first date?”
“Question four: What do you look for in a man?”
“Question five: If I was to give away all my money, would you still be interested in me? And be honest.”
Eight hours later, I finished my four hundred and sixty-second interview. I put stars by the names that intrigued me the most. When I looked at the sheet, there were about thirty stars. How to narrow it down to five? I went by looks (Yes, I know I said looks weren’t everything, but they are something) and the most honest answers and picked my five lucky finalists.
Amy, twenty-four, brunette, brown eyes, athletic build, outgoing, great personality.
Sydney, twenty-eight, jet black hair, violet eyes. Kind of shy. Petite. Worked with children.
Jessica, twenty-two, red hair, green eyes. The prettiest of the five. Not very intelligent, but with looks like that, who cares? Curves everywhere.
Desiree, twenty-six, strawberry blond, hazel eyes, stylish glasses. Liked doing just about anything. A little bit chunky, but it didn’t bother me.
Brooke, thirty-one, redhead, green eyes. Very beautiful, but a bit stuck up. Divorced, with a kid.
I called each of the five and arranged a date with each on separate evenings. My goal was to see what they could offer me that the other four couldn’t.
Monday, I took Amy to dinner and dancing. After an exciting evening, I walked her to the door. She invited me inside. She whispered in my ear that she needed to tinkle. She went into the restroom fully clothed. She came out in a pink nightie. I knew what was going to happen next.
She wrapped her arms around me, and we locked lips. She gyrated around my leg. I pulled away. This was not how I want to be influenced. I kissed her on the cheek and left. She seemed upset, but physical attraction was not what I sought.
Tuesday, Sydney and I went to see The Notebook. Halfway through the movie, I placed my arm around her, and she rested her head on me. By the end of the movie, both of us were in tears.
I walked her to her door. She mildly kissed me on the cheek. She walked into her house and closed the door. She didn’t try to make a move on me. I appreciated that.
Wednesday, I took Desiree to a nice dinner and an evening at the theater. We held hands and, on occasion, gazed through each other’s glasses at the other’s eyes. After the play, we took a drive in the country, and we parked at a lookout with a terrific view.
I turned on some soft music. I placed my arms around her and drew her closer. She fought at first, but eventually gave in. Our lips touched. She drew back.
“I’m not that kind of girl.”
I apologized and took her home. I walked her to the door. I offered to kiss her on the cheek. She said no. So ended our date. She was crossed off the list.
Thursday, Brooke and I went to dinner at a fancy restaurant. She ordered t
he most expensive thing on the menu, ate three bites, and said, “I’m full.” Good thing she couldn’t see the steam coming from my ears.
From there, we went to a comedy club. She was not happy. She thought that she was too good for this place. From there, I took her home. I didn’t even walk her to her door. She was lucky I didn’t tell her how I felt.
Friday, I went to pick up Jessica. She invited me in. She already had dinner made. We agreed to spend the night at her place. The room was dimly lit. The chairs were close together. She had a nice Caesar salad in the center of the table, a bowl of vegetable soup by each plate, and for the entree, a mouthwatering lamb chop, perfectly seasoned.
I felt a light breeze blowing in my ear as she poured the wine. She watched my every move as I ate, seeking approval at every bite.
“This is the tenderest, tastiest piece of meat I have ever eaten.”
“Why, thank you. But it’s not over yet.”
She took a piece of lamb and placed it between her teeth. She leaned over and kissed me. Next thing I knew, I was chewing the morsel. I felt her foot rubbing against my leg. She pulled away.
“Let’s adjourn to the living room.”
She led me to the sofa. She sat me down and moved to the fireplace. She bent over to light it, showing off her assets. She flicked a switch and light music filled the air. She joined me on the sofa.
She stared deep into my eyes and ran her fingers through my hair. Her legs wrapped around me. I was not looking for physical love, but how could I resist someone as charming and stunning as she? We fell to the floor, onto a thick rug.
She then began to undress me. So, in turn, I undressed her. Nothing felt better than thick rug on bare skin. Unless it was her bare flesh on mine. I couldn’t help but to stare at her radiant body. Her sultry legs, her supple breasts, her plush lips. I thought she was the one. Even if she wasn’t, I was going to enjoy the moment.
As I ogled over her, she gripped my Johnson and squeezed carefully. Shortly afterward, it found its way through the forest and discovered the buried treasure. Once it spotted the mother lode, it was in no hurry to leave. As it had its fun, I enjoyed nibbling and licking in the upper canyon. I could hear the silent wailing in delight.
Ten minutes later, it was all over. We got dressed. I promised to call her tomorrow. I told her that I would make the decision in the next few days. What I didn’t tell her was that she was the one. I just needed time to do one last thing to prove her love for me was real.
I called the newspaper and told them to run a phony article. The next day, the headline read “LOTTERY WINNER GIVES ENTIRE FORTUNE TO CHARITY”. This way, I could see if she loved me or my money. After seeing the headline, I called Jessica.
“Hello, Jessica? Good news. You’re the one I’ve chosen.”
“So what? Without your money, what do I care, you ugly piece of trash. I can’t believe I actually had sex with you.”
Well, I guess she wasn’t the one after all. I called my next choice, Amy.
“Hello, Amy? Good news. You won.” CLICK!
I went to my next, and final choice, Sydney. I had lost interest in Desiree and Brooke long ago.
“Hello, Sydney? Jeff.” CLICK!
All they wanted was my money. I knew then I would spend the rest of my life alone. Suddenly, the phone rang.
“Hello, Jeff? You might not remember me. I showed up at your interview. My name’s Rebecca.”
“Hi, Rebecca. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I saw what you did with the money, and I think it’s very noble of you. When I came in to the interview, I just wanted to meet you. You seemed like a very nice guy, money or no money. I thought you were cute and a kind individual.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. So, have you made up your mind yet?”
“Almost. I just have to do one last thing. Would you like to meet me for dinner sometime?”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.”
“But, I thought you’d already made your choices.”
“I did, but they were the wrong ones for me. All they wanted was my money. That’s why I placed the phony headline. To see if it was me they were fascinated with or my fortune. But now I know that there is one woman who will like me no matter what. You.”
“Wow. Okay. When do you want to get together?”
“As soon as possible. How’s lunch tomorrow?”
“Works for me. See you then.”
After I hung up, I looked over the list again. Rebecca was one of the last names I had crossed off.
So, I guess the saying was true. Money couldn’t buy you happiness, but it could make you see who people really were.
LONG LOST LOVE FOUND
What if you liked someone but could never tell her? And what if you had a second chance to tell her?
I was at my ten year reunion, meeting all of my old friends from high school. Some of them were successful; others turned out just as we planned. I picked up my name tag and mingled.
One voice rang out over the rest. Stephanie, who had a thing for me in high school. Back then, I wasn’t interested in things like that.
“Jeff, how you doing? You look great.”
“Fine. So do you.”
We talked some more. She introduced me to her husband Derek, a tax accountant. Seeing her now, I wished I had said yes one of those times.
As I walked around, I saw the same sight everywhere. Husbands and wives. Wives and husbands. Me and no one.
To further embarrass me, they displayed pictures from high school. Of course, they had to include the one of me sleeping in Mrs. Remeta’s class, drool coming out of my mouth.
To make me feel even worse, they started playing slow music. Everybody was dancing but me. I was just standing around, minding my own business.
Until in came Brittany, the head cheerleader, Homecoming Queen, and vice-president of Student Council. And she came alone.
All eyes turned her way, including mine. Of course, she ate up all the attention. A crowd formed around her. I was too scared to talk to her.
Back in high school, I sat behind her in English class and beside her in Chemistry. She still never noticed me or talked to me.
We were from different worlds. She was pretty, popular, and promiscuous. I was ugly, unpopular, and untouched. I concentrated on grades. She concentrated on her make-up.
I always wondered what it would be like to be with her. I always noticed her, but was afraid to cross the line into her world. Besides, she didn’t know I existed. I would fall asleep in class, as already mentioned, dreaming about her as my wife.
Anyway, the crowd dispersed and the reunion got back to normal. Everybody mingled. I drank a beer in the corner, avoiding Brittany.
The really embarrassing part of the show began. The president came up to the DJ booth, carrying our senior yearbook.
“Welcome back, Class of ‘88. Well, let’s see if everyone turned out like we thought. Okay. Most successful.” The spotlight shone on Seth, M. D.
“Okay. So far, so good. Best couple.”
The spotlight shone on Brittany, but Ryan, her high school boyfriend and star quarterback, was nowhere nearby.
“Oh well. So, we’re not perfect. Most Athletic.”
The spotlight shone on Greg, star shortstop for the Class AAA Pawtucket Red Sox. I started getting worried. I knew what’s coming up.
“Okay. Most Likely to Not Get Married.”
Of course, the spotlight shone on me.
“Well, we hit that nail on the head, didn’t we?”
I ran out of the room. The humiliation had piled up so high. This pushed it over the edge. I sat on the bench and started crying.
I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up. It was Brittany.
“You okay, Jeff?”
“I will be. You remember me?”
“Yeah, you sat by me in Chemistry.”
“But we never talked. I didn’t think you noticed me.”
“Of course
I noticed you. I always have.”
“So, why didn’t you ever say ‘Hi’ or something?”
“You’ve got to understand. When you’re popular, you have to act a certain way. You can only talk to certain people, do certain things. My life was controlled by my popularity. I envied you. You could do what you wanted, when you wanted.”
“You? Envied me?”
“Yeah. I even wanted to ask you out, but I was afraid of how my reputation would suffer.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. You were cute then. And smart.”
“Well, I had the biggest crush on you back then. I went to every football game just to see you cheer. I had your name written all over my notebooks. I would dream about what it would be like if you were my wife.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. But now it’s too late. You’re married by now.”
“Was.”
“Was?”
“Yeah. Divorced. He left me with a two-year-old girl Bryce. Caught him cheating on me.”
“That bastard. If I were your husband, the thought of cheating would never enter my mind. I would treat you like a princess, a queen, a goddess. You would never have to worry. I’d give you anything you want.”
Grabbing hold of my hand, she said, “Maybe it’s not too late. Let’s see what we can do about that.”
We went back to the reunion, hand in hand. When the next slow song played, she dragged me out to the center of the dance floor. What dance floor. I was dancing on the clouds with Brittany. Everyone stopped and watched us dance.
All of a sudden, she grabbed my fanny. I got a shocked then relaxed look on my face. We danced the reunion away.
After the reunion, we had a few drinks together. We remembered the times we had on opposite sides of the tracks, finding some common ground here and there.
I walked her back to her hotel room. We were both feeling a bit tipsy. She invited me in. I started pulling away. She tugged harder.
“You said you dreamt in school about what it would be like to be with me. Well, let’s make those dreams come true.”