Acte 3: The Pick-Up
I went out onto the stoop of my flats’ front porch and stopped as a wolf whistle reached my ears, the lobes still prickling a bit from the heavy diamond earrings they were tasked with wearing. The jewellery was sparkling beautiful, and I adored the look, but in a way I couldn’t wait to remove the weighty buggers.
The whistling culprit was my grinning prat of a brother who was standing at the curb, leaning against the car with his arms folded as he eyeballed me up and down.
The car he was leaning upon was a cream coloured Rolls, with black trim, borrowed from our uncle who is into collecting Antiques of any sort. Especially classic automobiles. Being a confirmed bachelor, we tease him with good humour that his collection is a surrogate for a family.
My brother, now holding the rear passenger door open for me, was also dressed up fancy. Wearing a black tux with shiny lapels, matching vest, and a hand-tied (by uncle) white bow tie. His starched white shirts sleeves were held by black onyx cuff links set with diamond chips and he wore his gold Rolex, bought while in university in New Guinea. He claims it was legit, but I always felt a dark alleyway was involved.
I went to him and turned, as he took my cue and helped me on with my wrap.
I giggled as I felt his fingers steal a gliding touch along my sleekly gowned backside, smiling to myself as he did so. He had always liked it when I wore this dress, always gushing over how very pretty I was, indeed.
It made one rather happy knowing there was at least one person who thought I looked good, even if it was my brother. But a lass like me has to take whatever she compliments she can get.
So anyway, he then, like a proper chauffeur, lifted my hand and helped me up into the back passenger’s side brown leather seat.
He got himself situated around in the driver’s seat, and putting the Rolls in gear, pulled away from the curb to take the twenty-minute drive to my chum Kathleen’s small lakeside cottage, located on the edge of town.