New Flash Fiction by Guy Hogan

Unlit filtered cigarettes

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Forbidden Love

 

It was a warm, sunny April morning in downtown Pittsburgh. The letter Frank Everett got the day before from the State Civil Service Commission stated that only 10 people in the County of Allegheny had scored higher than he had on the State Civil Service Test. That meant he’d probably have a good job within the year. Once he got the job nobody could say he was a loser, a loser like his old man. How his mother stayed with his father Frank could never understand. His mother and father were just from a different generation. Frank was still in his twenties, but he’d never gone to college and found he could only get dead end jobs like the one he had now. Well, all that was going to change. He’d even brought the letter to work to show Rita. Rita Lopez was the only thing he would miss from his present job. Frank started putting down the stools on the dry floor. Rita would be in any minute.

With everything in place, Frank sat on a stool at the bar and smoked a cigarette. It was the best part of the day. Soon he wouldn’t have to work at night. He wouldn’t be on Public Assistance. When Rita came in he could always get a couple of beers on the house before the bar opened. Today he was hoping Rita would give him more than just a couple of beers. Rita might be forty-five but she was hot. She made her tips on low cut, short dresses that got even lower when she bent down to get a beer from the cooler for a customer. And there were her beautiful legs. Frank heard a key in the front door.

In a moment Rita came through the swinging doors. She was wearing her trade mark low cut, short dress with black pantyhose and white tennis shoes. “I put on the show for the customers,” she told him once. “But I’m not going to have my feet hurt.”

“Hi, Rita.”

“Frankie, the place is so nice and clean as usual. Would you like a beer? I’ll have a cigarette with you.”

“Thanks.”

She put her things away behind the bar and then bent down into a cooler to get his beer. The neck of her dress came open. She wasn’t wearing a bra. She had never had children. Many young women would be envious of her breasts. She looked up at him and saw him looking.

“My Frankie gets his own private show.”

“You’re my private dancer.”

She opened a bottle of Iron City and put it and a glass in front of him.

He said, “I got something to show you.”

“Good news?”

“I got the letter.” He put his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar.

“Let me see?” she said.

She came around and sat facing him on a stool. He took the letter from a pocket of his jeans and gave it to her. She unfolded it and began to read. Concentrating on the letter she crossed her beautiful legs, the short dress riding even higher. The black pantyhose accented the beauty of her legs. Frank thought of how young women didn’t seem to wear pantyhose any longer. He wondered what would happen if he reached out and squeezed her thigh. He turned to face her.

“Frankie, this is wonderful news.” She looked up at him, happy for him. “Oh, I’m going to miss you.”

“I won’t miss this place but I’ll miss you.”

“You’ll meet some nice sweet young thing and forget all about Rita.”

“No,” he said. “I really will miss you.” The bar seemed very quiet.

“That’s so sweet.”

“Rita?”

“Yes?”

He reached out and squeezed her thigh. There was a moment when nothing happened. There was only the thrill of the feel of her pantyhose and the warmth of her thigh. Then Frank felt a stinging sensation. She had slapped him. The entire left side of his face was stinging.

“Oh, Frankie, I’m so sorry.”

“No, no. That’s all right.”

“Why would you do such a thing?”

“I stepped out of line.”

“You don’t want to make a pass at me. Frankie, I’m old enough to be your mother.”

“No, it’s all right.”

He began to feel strangely more confident. He thought the slap had given him a certain advantage.

“You were right to slap me. But you’re not my mother. And I’m a man. And you’re a woman.”

He put his hand back on her thigh. She looked down at his hand. He saw she was breathing deeper. He got off his stool and uncrossed her legs. She was looking down at his hands as if she was hypnotized. He reached under her short dress and ran his hands slowly up and down her outer thighs, thrilling to the feel of her pantyhose and the warmth of her body. 

“Frankie, what are you doing?”

“Something I’ve always wanted to do.”

“Frankie, this isn’t right.” She rested her hands on his shoulders…

Moments later Rita was on her back in a booth.

“That’s it,” she said. “That’s what Rita wants. That’s what I need.”  She moaned.

“Rita, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Do me, Frankie.  Do me.”

Later that day Frank Everett and Rita Lopez began to make plans for the future.

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