I mean, Polka, ” he quickly emended. Isolde giggled as they clinked glasses. “Plooka, huh? And just whose ass are you thinking about plooking?” ...he asked. “Not mine!” Terry said quickly. “Gee,” George said, “I’ve never had a French maid before.” Isolde thought she heard a little edge creeping in beneath their thinly veiled banter, and cut it off, saying, “Stop it, you two, or I’m going to feel left out.” “Your left one IS out,” George said, and lightly brushed the side of his wine glass across. Immediately my head turned back to the direction in which I had departed. Frozen in place I watched as she moved like she were a figure skater. Everything and everyone around her disappeared. I observed as her flowing hair bounced past her shoulders that were high with confidence. Her business suit skirt accented her curves immaculately. I lost all train of thought as she faded from view. I finally made it to the kiosk to get a new card and load it with a few rides. “She sure made my morning. More

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