Mary-Alice stewed on that peck all through her bath, going back over it time and again. What it was about that old man, she couldn’t guess. But he had witched her, as they say, for sure. Climbing out of her tub and dropping the boy in with his wooden ship and toweling off, she still had it on her mind.
Finally, Mary-Alice decided she was in the mood for sex so she put on Hank’s clothes. Theoretically, they were her clothes too. Hank just loved the fact they were both so similar in the waist they could wear the same jeans. “We can save money by sharing,“ he always said. It sometimes made her feel a little fat but then, of course, Hank had the skinniest butt of any man in the whole county, so maybe it was fair after all.
It was also a bother that the man near about wouldn’t touch her unless she sported jeans and a pair of boots, a rodeo shirt and her hair combed back—basically when she looked exactly like him. Hank was a strange man and didn’t seem too often to like being touched by women, even herself. But, she did at least have the matter down to a science and it was an easy enough task to perform in order to obtain what she wanted and any other time could well expect to be left be. So, she didn’t make all that many complaints.
When Hank finally pulled in and started up the stairs, Mary-Alice leaned in the lamplight against the right side post with her silhouette facing him and tugging on a cigarette. She eased a glance down at Hank and spat smoke out the side of her face and looked calmly at him, almost as if she didn’t even see him. That was all it took. As usual.