026

Friday eased along.The evening drifted near. The breeze blew the lace into the bedroom where she sat, perched in front of a vanity. Her curlers were starting to hurt her neck. The sun set in the distance and the noise on the street changed from children at play to a quieter volume of the change to sitters heading to do the Friday night stand in. The small apartment she shared slowly grew to smell like the plume of hairspray used to hold the volume of the quartet of bobs that were being teased pre-makeup to get "just so." 

The slip clung to her thighs due to the last of summer's humidity and heat. The dress she planned to pull on lay on the bed. Just below its hems were the evenings shoes.

The anticipation was very great. She held each pair of earrings she owned to her ears many times over trying to coordinate just right for this second date. She heard Bing Crosby drift in as Susan placed the needle to the vinyl in the great room. It only intensified the race in her heart to hear such swell crooning.

After fastening the pearl bobbles into place on her lobes she applied a light rouge to her cheeks and moved to the rhythm of the music as she dressed and checked her face and hair. 

She knew Sue would be tidying in the same soft swing rhythm she was readying herself to. 

A few spritzes of perfume and she felt ready. A double check in the standing mirror and last grab for a shawl for the slight chill that would nip at the air post-dinner. She slipped out the door. Only now to wait for her latest beau. 

She loved the smell of the air on date nights, all rosy and powdery. The music played on quietly as well. 

Susan and the other gals gathered at the closet to get cardigans and get plans together. The buzz they made lended its usual excitement and energy. They popped their heads into the living room to say farewells and get final okays on attire and hair from her and from one another. 

They wished her luck and then giggled and twittered their way out to the night and life as single ladies at the swing joint downtown. A speakeasy that mostly housed a crowd of eager working young gents and more eager young ladies.

A half-hour of her mindlessly flipping through Harper's Bazaar passed before he buzzed up for her.
Her stomach flipped. She flitted to the closet to grab her hat and tucked her key into her handbag. She locked the door and descended with a swell of expectation and excitement.

He waited on her stoop smoking a Camel. He looked positively dapper. So much classier than the boys she would usually meet out on the town. Here was a real man, and he fancied her.

He was a free lance photographer. Definitely a man of the world. They'd met in passing at her office. She worked a typing job at the Evening Telegram. He had been in dropping off photographs of the recent mill fire. She had popped out to have a cig and much like a film he'd swept in with a light and a compliment. Very determinedly asked if he could buy her dinner the following evening. She had obliged.

At the close of the previous evening they had spent together he had asked if she might accompany him to a dinner party his friends would be having. She had graciously accepted the invitation more than a bit pleased to be the attendant of someone so dashing.