The Sisters

FICTION

Anonymous

The evening was warm and scented and the Season of the Jacaranda was at its zenith. In royal blue satin house-coat Dawn clattered out over the parquet and on to the patio where I was sitting. I noted with satisfaction that she bore in either hand a dry martini, the glasses already opaque with condensa- tion. She handed me mine and then perched grace- fully, an azalea on either side, on the low hollow wall out of which they were growing. Ten floors down the after-office traffic flowed along to the outer suburbs with a pleasant unobtrusive murmur.. It was all very relaxed, very civilized.

I set my drink down after the first apprecia- tive sip, crossed my bare legs under my hostess - gown and looked up at Dawn. I was about to ask her when she thought we should dress for dinner and how she proposed we should spend the remainder of this lovely evening and then hesitated. She was gazing at me over the rim of her glass and her eyes told me this was not going to be any ordinary evening. I was prepared to bet my new mink and the little Austin-Healey we shared that she had something cook- ing and it wasn't just the Cape Lobster we had planned for dinner.

Thoughtfully I contemplated the scarlet nails of my right hand and wondered how soon the immacu- lately engineered proposition would emerge. I didn't have to wait long. "Honey" she said "while you were having your beauty-bath your little sister Dawn had a call!" and her eyes grew wide with that special synthetic innocence that seemed to fool everybody but me. "A man, darling?" I said knowing damned