The Bombshell


Through his tears, MacDoozle gathered up his notes, together with a few drawings, realizing all the while the sketches would likely prove worthless. He walked slowly back into the bank, flipping through the sketches. There was a particularly interesting one of an elaborate tea party that he thought might hang nicely in his kitchen.

Sitting down, he fanned the sketches before him, hoping to see a pattern or clue. As he stood contemplating the drawings, he heard a soft, throaty voice next to him. “Nice artwork. Yours?”

Startled, he spun around and was immediately dumfounded. Before him stood a vision he had only seen in his dreams. Auburn hair cascaded around an angelic face. Emerald eyes blinked slowly, hypnotically, while her lips curved in a beguiling smile. She raised her eyebrows in question, waiting for an answer.

“Oh!” Flustered, MacDoozle vaguely waved at the pictures. “Yes. No! Well...yes.”

Idiot! he thought to himself. Get a grip, man!

“Would you like” she purred suggestively.

“Um...yes, of course.” Who wouldn’t? MacDoozle snatched up his notebook and fumbled with his pen, dropping it. Bending down to pick it up, his eyes travelled up her shapely legs, all the way up to her face that was gazing down at him with amusement.

Clearing his throat, MacDoozle quickly stood up and attempted to appear professional. He stood with his pen poised over his notebook. “Can you tell me what you saw Miss...”

“Lolita. Lolita Harlotte,” she said with a smile. Of course it is, he thought.

“Did you see anything at all, Miss Harlotte?” MacDoozle asked, expecting the same disappointing answer he had received before.

“Why, of course I did. I saw the whole thing.” Oh, this was wonderful! Finally, a witness he could rely on and, to be fair, one that was an absolute pleasure to interview.

“I’ll tell you everything,” she murmured, leaning over, her dress gaping open leaving nothing to the imagination. Her perfume wafted over him, tingling his senses and befuddling his mind. As she spoke, her voice floated around him, soothing and dreamlike.

“And that’s what happened,” she said, bringing MacDoozle back to reality. As Lolita walked away, her hips sashaying like an energetic tennis match, MacDoozle glanced down at his notebook and winced.

He had written down every word she had said, but his hand had trembled so much, he couldn’t read his writing.

The End

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