Like the Volcano

Charlie sat on the bench in the Walmart waiting to pick up his medication. Next to him sat an elderly lady, well older than Charlie, and she was a chatter-box.

He patiently listen as the woman talked about her life and all the exciting adventures she’d lived through. But what she mostly talked about was being one of the original Vegas showgirls, back in the day.

“Oh, that was a glamorous time,” she cooed. “And it was more than risqué as I dance the in midnight shows – you know – topless, letting the girls out to have a little fun on their own.”

Charlie smiled and without realizing it, glanced down at the woman’s breasts. He quickly looked up at the woman’s face, but by then he’d been caught and he knew it.

“I saw that,” she said with delight. “You men – gay, straight, or both ways – are all the same.”

“I’m sorry,” Charlie said, turning red from embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize. It’s only natural, especially when an old broad pushing 90 says something about her tits.”

“Ninety?” he questioned, realizing she must have had plastic surgery in order to appear so youthful.

“Damn near, honey. And I still got it.”

“Well, I would have never guessed.”

“The wonders of what a good plastic surgeon can do for a gal. By the way, my names Etna – like the volcano.”

She held out her hand.

Looking down, Etna offered, “Got the kittens a few years back. A girl’s gotta keep up if she’s gonna live the fun life.”

“You mean you have implants? Charlie asked.

“You betch’a!” Etna stated with a certain amount of pride. “And I’m proud of my girls, made me a lot of money in my day.”

“I can see that,” Charlie replied.

“I bet you wanna see them, don’t ya?” she laughed as she dug through her purse, pulling out a piece of an envelope and an ink pen.

She quickly wrote her telephone number on the paper and handed it to Charlie, “Here’s my number if you’d like to look’em over. I promise, I don’t bite, even though I have all my teeth. We can have a drink and some fun.”

The twice-divorced Charlie looked at the number, then back at Etna before lying, “I’m a married man.”

“I figgered so,” she returned. “All the good-looking, mature men seem to be taken and I certainly don’t want a twenty or even thirty-something boy-toy to run around with.”

Suddenly, the person behind the counter called her name. She stood up, revealing that at one point in her life Etna had been a real knock-out.

Another clerk called Charlie to the counter.  As he paid for the prescription, he thought, “There was a time it was me chasing the older women around; now the older women are chasing me. What a turn around.”

Etna stepped passed Charlie and loudly whispered before she disappeared around the corner towards the exit, “Keep the number – ‘cuz you never know, honey.”

Charlie stuffed the number in his shirt pocket as he left the store. Once at his truck, he withdrew it and balled it up, intending to toss it in the bed of the truck, but he hesitated, flattening it out instead.

“What could it hurt?” he thought as he picked up his cellphone, curiosity getting the better of him.