This is a piece of fiction for Trifecta Writing Challenge. I don’t want anyone worrying about me. None of this is true, at least not for me.
It was the most embarrassing moment of her life. That’s what my boss said. She didn’t follow it up with, to date. But she’s not dead. She may have many more most embarrassing moments. Let’s hope she does. The alternative is not pretty. It wasn’t all that embarrassing anyway. She exited the ladies’ room with the back of her skirt tucked into her pantyhose in front of a collection of highfalutin individuals that she was trying to impress with her professionalism so they’d hire the firm to produce television commercials for their high sugar content breakfast cereals. Big deal, so what? That’s happened to a lot of us girls. If she had a nice butt, and she does have a nice butt from what I can tell, that little maneuver probably got her the job. And she did land the client. So her embarrassing moment turned into a lucrative moment. Yeah her.
What’s really embarrassing is being too stupid to walk away from a guy until he sets you on fire. That’s right. How embarrassing is that? We had a fight one night. That was a common occurrence with us. Often it involved slapping and shoving each other, and screaming, always the screaming. But this night he picked up his tumbler of Scotch, he always drank it neat, and tossed it at me. Before I could get my breath he’d lobbed the match, and my shirt was in flames. Fortunately, I was quick to react. I ripped off the shirt, dropped to the floor, and rolled. But my belly and chest were burned. I had to use up all my vacation time at work. I didn’t want to tell anyone how stupid I was. I won’t be showing off any six-pack abs. No bikinis for me. I’m uneasy telling you about it. I have a bad habit of trusting people I shouldn’t trust. But I feel good about you. I know you won’t tell anyone.