Marilyn

The pre-dawn air was cool and moist as she
drove Marilyn down the block. Carol Ann’s hair was
damp from the heat and clung to the back of her
neck as she drove along darkened streets with the
window rolled down. I won’t go too far, she
reasoned. Just far enough, but not to the campus,
because he’d get suspicious. No I’ll drop her off at
the Kroger’s and leave it in the parking lot with the
keys in the ignition. That’d do it. She smiled in
grim satisfaction. Yes, that’s perfect. It’ll be close
enough to walk back without him being any the
wiser.
I went for my morning jog baby, I’ll tell him,
Carol Ann conspired. And when I got home the car
was missing. Someone must have taken it out of the
Patricia Snodgrass
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garage while I was gone. They must have found the
keys in the kitchen and just drove off with her.
Sorry, lover. I must have forgotten to lock up when
I left. My bad.
Marilyn’s radio came on without warning. I Like
it Like That by Chris Kenner blasted through the
speakers. Carol Ann jerked in surprise. She turned
it off, but it came back on at once. Carol Ann
slammed her hand against the console.
“You’re just full of it this morning, ain’tcha?”
she asked Marilyn as she pulled into the Kroger’s
parking lot. She parked the car underneath a dull
orange street lamp.
She killed the ignition and sat for a moment.
I’m doing a bad thing, she thought. Despite how
she felt, Bobby loved Marilyn, and when she got rid
of her, and he found out, he’d never forgive her no
matter how many muscle cars she gave him.
She frowned. Is our relationship worth the price
of a car? She wondered. Why can’t I relent and let
him have the damned thing?
“Because you’re messing with my boyfriend, that’s
why,” she said aloud. “I don’t know how, but that’s
what’s going on and I won’t have it.”
An intense sensation ran up her leg, caressing
her crotch. Marilyn became stifling hot; the aroma
of Chanel and smoke from old fashioned cigarettes
was stifling. A feminine giggle came from nowhere.
Something ran up her right breast, probing her
shirt, trying to find a way in.
Within seconds she was covered with rough
obviously sexual caresses, tiny bites and heavy
perfume. She lingered in the sensation, alternately
frightened and excited at the same time.
After a few seconds of stunned excitement she
bolted from the car, leaving the keys in the ignition
and the door wide open as she ran as quickly as she
could back toward their house.
“I did it, I did it I did it,” she heaved as she
ran, hot and sweaty, back home. She leaned
against the garage door, panting. “I got rid of it; I
got rid of that hideous thing.”
She stepped into the garage and uttered a short
shriek.
Marilyn was there, parked in her usual spot, the
driver’s side door open. Carol Ann looked inside the
car. The keys were in the ignition.
“How did you? How could you? How is it
possible?”
Marilyn seemed to sneer around her horse
collar grill.

Marilyn is available at http://www.whispershome.com