Ethel was fanning herself under the magnolia tree as she sipped a pink lemon aid.
She leaned back in the worn white wicker chair. Let’s see, if I slipped into the hot tub as Darla was serving Little Richard as black russian...no that would be racist! She shook her head and pondered what would he like to drink in the heat of her presence? I know I’d give him a cube of ice to rub all over his forehead. How I’d love to see the drops run down his face, chin, and neck. My god that man is my idea of heaven. she was sinking into her day dream as the phone rang.
Darla in a crisp voice asked, “where are you? How long do I have to wait for you darlin’”.
Ethel sat up and wiped her mouth as the lemonade rolled onto her chest and stained her new white blouse.
“I totally forgot! I am so sorry sweetheart,” as she pivoted in the white chair a man was ambling toward her from the house. My god, she thought he looks just like Little....