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Not as Nice As My Oak Tree

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 When the tattoo is more than just ink.  

Musing # 3
The morning was so young and still that I could hear each snowflake float onto the cabin deck. The cold, crisp air hung heavily over everything like the blanket that covered the bed. I took in a quiet inhale, pulling toward me the spent vanilla candle’s lingering scent. I wanted the moment to stay just a little longer, the feel of the thick Egyptian beige cotton sheets and matching quilted blanket held my bliss close to my chest. And I kept still, very, very still for I feared if I opened even one eye the bubble would pop and I’d have to accept that it was all just a nice, a very nice dream.

Higher Society - Pt.4

HIGHER SOCIETY – Part 4

a fanfiction based on the George Cukor’s The Philadelphia Story (1940) and the musical High Society (1956), both of which were based on the Broadway play, The Philadelphia Story (1939) by Philip Barry. I don’t own the story, but I own the characters in this adaptation.

Chapter Ten

Mmm yeah! (Woo, woo)

Women think I'm tasty, but they're always tryin' to waste me

Make me burn the candle right down

But, baby, baby, don't need no jewels in my crown

-“Tumbling Dice”, Rolling Stones

Present time

The pool itself was only Olympic size while the entertainment portion of the patio's layout was what one would anticipate at a seaside hotel. There was a full-outdoor kitchen on the west side and a full bar with a temperature-controlled snack station on the east. Toni hung her clothes in one of the five cabanas, also largess with its individual bathroom with forest themed walk-in shower. A decanter of scotch, bucket of ice, and two glasses were on a side table between two white reclining lawn chairs. When she came out, towel across her shoulders, Toni said, “Geeze, this is beautiful!”

Angus scanned her like a drunk john at a strip club. 

“Yes. It sure is.” He put a store-bought pretzel in his mouth and immediately regretted it.  

“Compliments will get you nowhere, Earl Glamorgan!  But thank you anyway,” she replied. 

The surrounding garden foliage caught her attention. Toni walked up to a flowering bush to sniff the pedals. “Attar of Roses, Sweet bay, Cotton lavender,” she said as she pointed to the well-curated collection of foliage. “Your grandmother’s work I suppose? She has excellent taste.” Toni ran her hands across the petals and leaves. “My mother owned a greenhouse and flower shop. I worked there every summer until I left for college.”