Shania, Pt. 1

Shania Taylor was too damned young to be a widow. But, that?s what she was. Her husband had been killed in one of those idiot drunk driving accidents. Unfortunately, he?d been the one drunk. Fortunately, he?d lost control and slammed his truck into a tree. He didn?t kill anyone else. The impact broke his neck, and left his 27-year-old wife a widow. She looked stunning in black. Her blonde hair and pale skin contrasted with the dark fabric. As much as I pitied her situation, the vision of her in the short black ensemble stirred my ancient libido. I shook my head at the paradox of the situation. Shania Taylor was too damned young to be a widow and too damned hot to stay one for long. My own life had eased into a relatively serene routine that I accepted with an ease atypical of my natural tendency to seek out some adventure or another. I?d never married, preferring the tranquility of occasional flings to the predictable drama I?d witnessed so frequently among my associates. At the age of forty-four I had been able to settle into a pattern of eat, sleep and work that satisfied my need for regimentation, yet still finding an occasional outlet for the intermittent craving for adventure. Shania Taylor was younger than my infrequent female companions. Most of them were married women, seeking an off-and-on bedding situation as their husbands traveled or strayed. I never brought them home, preferring the anonymity of hotel and motel rooms and the separation of my personal life from recreation. Shania and I had only crossed paths occasionally. escort izmit I was in 2B. She and her husband lived in 3C. They had to pass my door on the way to the parking lot. It had been a warm July, with temperatures generally in the upper 90s. This particular day the humidity hung heavy, although the thermometer registered a temperate 86. I literally backed into Shania as she hustled past me while I bent to lock my door. I looked up into her cool, green eyes and gave her a half smile of recognition. ?The fucking elevator is broken,? she said. ?Had to use the stairs.? I nodded. Usually comfortable in my own skin, I was really outside my comfort zone here. I didn?t like dealing with death. So I sort of mumbled to her, ?Look, I?m really sorry?? She cut me off. ?Shut up, just shut up.? ?Okay,? I said slowly. ?He was a prick and a drunk,? she snapped. ?I didn?t want him dead, but I did want him out of my life.? ?Really.? I was taken aback at her forward nature. I hadn?t expected her to be so open with me. She stared at me. Finally her shoulders slumped. ?Oh, shit,? she slammed out. ?I said too much, didn?t I?? ?It?s okay. Just between you and me. A little venting is good for the soul.? She leaned back against the wall across from my door, hiked a high-heel foot up so her knee cocked toward me. She scanned my face. ?Come to the funeral for me. Two o?clock tomorrow afternoon. I?d like to have you there.? ?I don?t know,? I mumbled, shaking my head. ?I don?t do too well with that kind of stuff.? She scoffed. ?Yeah, well I?m having izmit escort a fucking blast,? she sneered sarcastically. Then she softened. ?Not for him, Eric. Be there for me. I?m doing all this shit myself. He?s got no family close, so it?s all on me. Besides, I may need to vent some more.? ?Shania,? I began, and then stopped. ?Oh, what the hell. Yeah, sure. I?ll be there for you.? ?They?re sending the car for me at twelve-thirty. I?ll bang on your door.? ?I thought you said two?? ?That?s the service. Viewing is at one. I?ve got to be there for all that. I?d like you to be there with me. Ride with me.? I knew I?d be trapped. Having no vehicle, I?d have no escape route. It would be hell. But, maybe I could count it as my good deed of the week. ?All right. I?m all yours from noon tomorrow until you turn me loose.? ?You?re a good friend, Eric. I?ll see you tomorrow.? I wasn?t though. Shania and her husband weren?t really my friends. We were acquainted. But, the term ?friend? was really stretching the concept. As I drove toward my office I thought about the commitment I?d made. Why had I done it? A healthy dose of pity certainly had a lot to do with it. I didn?t consider myself particularly philanthropic. Still, once in a while I got the urge to do something outside my own skin, something that benefited another human. I guess it helped keep me feeling a part of the species. Shania was hurting, in spite of her protestations. She was too beautiful and young to suffer like that. Maybe I could help. A soft izmit kendi evi olan escort tap on my door brought me out of the reverie in my easy chair. I was dressed, except for my dark jacket. I grabbed it off the back of the sofa as I headed toward the door. When I opened it, Shania strode confidently past me into the apartment. She looked stunning in black. She scanned the apartment as she spoke. ?You?re my Uncle Eric,? she said abruptly. ?In case anybody asks.? ?Okay,? I agreed. ?You got anything to drink here?? ?I do,? I admitted. ?You think that?s a good idea?? ?I?ve been sober all day,? she said, twisting on an incredibly high heel to look at me. ?Just give me one. I need a bracer.? I took the bottle of good bourbon from the cabinet that served as by bar stock, pulled an old fashion glass from the next shelf over, and poured a healthy two fingers in it. ?Water?? I called. ?Ice?? ?Neat,? she called back. I shrugged, pulled down another glass and poured one for myself. No point in making her drink alone. Besides, I could use the bracing, too. I walked into the sitting room to find her strikingly gorgeous, standing by the window, looking out the large window with at the promise of a sweltering day. ?Gonna be hot,? I remarked as I handed her the glass. She looked closely at me as she took the amber liquid. She half-raised it to her lips. Then she pushed it toward me to clink the edges. ?To future prospects,? she said softly. I gave her a sad half-grin, nodded, and we both sipped at the bourbon. ?Nice,? she commented, holding her glass up and inspecting the liquid. ?So, do you have any?? ?Any what?? she asked. ?Future prospects.? She gave me a long look. She took an equally long pull at the bourbon and looked back out the window. ?Have you ever been in love?? ?Yeah, sure,? I told her with a soft chuckle.