Women's secrets

Afternoon Beauty - III

The overcoat glistens, the torrential rain pounding hard on the windows of the house. The man is completely wet from his shoes to his felt hat. The noise of thunder almost didn't let Monique be heard.

"What happened, Patrick?"

"Monique, please. I need to talk to you."

"Then come in, come on, man, quickly."

The young man passes by, and she closes the door. In the hallway the sound of drops fall on the marble floor.

"Take off the overcoat, take it off. Before you catch pneumonia."

The nephew removes his felt hat. Monique helps with the overcoat.

"Take it all off. I'll get a towel for you to dry off."

The young man obeys, awkwardly getting rid of his clothes. Monique returns with a blue terry towel. She laughs, admiring the large red polka-dotted panties. Jesus, she thinks, they don't have the slightest sense of the ridiculous.

"Take it all off."

The two of them stare at each other. Their gazes talk. Monique extends the towel, the young man gets rid of the last piece of clothing. He covers himself and dries off.

"You use the bathroom behind the stairs. I left a separate towel and robe for you."

Patrick mumbles a 'thank you', drying his chest and hair.

"Have you been drinking, Patrick?"

"A little. I can't stop thinking about our conversation earlier today."

"I know. At this time, almost eleven o'clock at night? Go, we'll talk later."

He leaves, wrapping himself in his towel, and she goes to the playroom. She fills two glasses with Jack Daniels; she knows he likes it. She puts ice in her glass and sits down on the sofa. She sips the whiskey wondering what brought back her husband's nephew late at night after the fight earlier today.

Thunder explodes from time to time, and the lightning shines in the windows of the house. The rain is unrelenting. The sounds of war. Monique takes advantage of it and gets rid of her panties, she is left with only her bluish, semi-transparent sweater. She laughs at herself, it seems that the universe conspires when it has to. And she likes those surprises that life offers.

She never liked Patrick, and he never liked her. But Patrick deserves a lesson. A lesson he will never forget. Monique sits in the armchair crossing her legs over the sofa. She turns on the radio. A sensual, deep male voice speaks of Senator McCarthy's pronouncements from the floor of Congress in recent weeks.

That's when Patrick appears tying his gray robe. Monique offers him the glass, which he drinks in short sips, both staring at each other and simultaneously listening to the announcer.

"This is a man this country needs to hear. Something must be done against these communists."

"A witch hunt? It won't be the first time in history. Your uncle doesn't like the man, the motives. Neither do I."

"You're all very innocent. What does Uncle Ethan think will happen to the firm when these 'bums' take over?"

"Why are you so afraid, Patrick? Don't we have the bombs? They are the ones who need to fear the power of American capitalists."

"They have been here, Monique, undercover for a long time. Everywhere, can't you see what's happening in Hollywood? Before long, these bastards will figure out how to make an atomic bomb."

Monique shakes her head dejectedly, taking a few sips of her glass with whiskey on the rocks.

"There is so much fear today that they will end up finding culprits that do not exist. Beware!"