"-and I want you to know I had a GHASTLY time with my current husband about letting me go-a LOVERLY sandblaster I just met and he's SO jealous -said the only way I could go would be to promise not to wear my bermudas so I don't drive all the other men MAD with my frabjous legs-"

"Oh brother."

and promise not to wear a t-shirt so I don't drive YOU mad with my frabjous pec's, knowing what a lecherous old tit-king you are-

"Ugh, those flat hairy things-”

"So I've sewed up this STUNNING floorlength sheath from gunnysacks and I'll pick you up at six."

"Now slow down, Ella. Where is this shindig?"

Sue really didn't care. She just needed time to think, was she free and did she want to go.

As Willie-Poo rattled on, she decided yes to both.

-just off the freeway above that Indian museum, they call it the Swish Alps, just like over here. Not that these two guys are swish, though, thank gawd-

"OK OK, it's a deal. Do we take liquor and is it all gay and how do I dress, slacks OK?"

"Slacks fine, it's all gay, and I'll pick up a bottle on the way over. How're the two bitches?"

"Fine, still enchanted on getting out of that kennel. How's Tallulah?" "Fine. Pick you up at six, doll."

She fed the dogs and went upstairs and stayed a long wonderful time in the shower. When she heard the barking, she knew Willie-Poo had arrived. Ther she heard the refrigerator door, then that unique and lovely explosion of ice cubes being cracked out of their tray that marks the ending of those hours when you keep your hair up and your nose down to the grindstone and the beginning of those when you don't.

She had just gotten her panties on when Willie-Poo entered the bathroom with a dry manhattan in each hand and with the dogs wiggling and swirling around his feet like the flounce on gay drag.

"Willie-Poo," Sue declaimed pontifically, reaching for her bra, "I always did say you're my favorite faggot."

"Honey, why WON'T you go to Vic Tanny's with me, just because you

"Now, don't start that again, all your old mother wants to do is grow old gracefully."

"They do WONDERS with old bags. Look at this hip line," he said, admiring his trim bodybuilding figure in the mirror and stroking his slim hips encased in pocketless slacks. "Just give your old mother a dim light and she can pass for 39-"

"Ha! Damn dim. Maybe with a tote-sack over your head. Hmm. What a huge basket. Must be stuffed. Don't you think that's rather vulgar?"

"Sticks and stones, sticks and stones, but penis envy will never hurt me," he sang archly as he left.

Sue rushed through her face and hair. She looked in the mirror as little as possible these days. After the breakup of her last marriage, seven years with Marnie, she had given up mirrors, her exercises, and her girdle.

As she expected, because the outrageous Willie-Poo hated maps ("They are so CONFINING! Don't you just LOVE the hunt? Doesn't it take you back