Oooooooffff!

I am jarred awake when a rather heavy object hits the bed.  What the Sam Hill is going on here?  The room is still dark, I know Zorro is under the covers, and this is bump was much too big to be my cat.

“Wake up, wake up, says the bouncing object.”

The overhead light comes on.  I blink, trying to focus on the body balanced on one leg at the foot of my bed.  I pull my blankets up over my nose, and peer suspiciously as young men in tights are pirouetting in the tight confine of my room.

Frankie, with bedhead, and rumpled jammies makes an entrance and flops on the bed beside me.  Zorro is growling menacingly.

“Seriously, get up,” says the handsome young man.  And with a wave of his arm and a limber turn he leaps off the bed.  He and the other nine ballet attired gentlemen bow at the waist and leave the room.

I’m stunned.  Frankie has a strange look on her face; I can’t tell if she is displeased or contemplating.  While I scramble to dress, I inquire why she appears perplexed.

Frankie:  “I’m just curious, what the heck is that little package ‘you know where’?  Is that an athletic ‘cup’?

Me:  (With just a bit of embarrassed giggle.)  “No, I think it’s kind of a thong thingy, to hold ‘you know what, you know where.”

Frankie:  “Oh.”  (Insert a few seconds of silence here.  Followed by:) “OOOOOOOOOHHHHH!”  She is now grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Me:  “Frankie, cut that out.  These young men are serious dancers and are here at the request, I’m sure, of My True Love.  Now hurry and dress, apparently we've another show to watch.”  However, I must admit, as old as I am, their packages were indeed ample, which did not leave a lot of room for my imagination run a- muck.

I made a quick repair of yesterday’s make-up, dressed better than my normal holey sweat pants and shirt, and ran a comb through my hair.  I thought I was moving pretty quickly, but by the time I got to the living room Frankie was already there…grinning from ear to ear.

The Lords were Leaping about in wild abandon.  The leader of the group, started the music, and some semblance of dance began.  Oh, my poor house…furniture was knocked into, while nick-knacks and decorations got strewn about.  There was no room for all the Glissades, Pas de Chats, Pirouettes and Grand Battlements.

Handsome, talented, and well-endowed as these young men were, they were destroying my home.

Me:  (Abruptly standing) “Gentlemen, gentlemen, it not the fact we aren't enjoying your performance and your talents, and, it is with regret I must ask you to bring your show to a close.  I don’t believe My True Love expects house repairs to be part of the gift.”

The music stops, my Lords a-Leaping form a line bow politely, kiss our hands and silently disappear.  I felt miserable.

Frankie’s chin begins to quiver…I think she’s going to cry…I have never seen her in such a state…at our ages we have simply never talked about sex…and our lack of it…but having never seen this gleam in her eyes before, I’m starting to think maybe we should.  (Talk about it…not have it).  I’m a bit choked up myself.

Suddenly an old saying creeps into my fog shrouded brain.  “There might be snow on the roof, but, there’s still some fire in the furnace.”  Who knew that's really true?

Me:  (Sighing deeply) “Come on, Frankie, let’s have some coffee and a nice long talk. (I put my arm around her shoulder) I have to admit, I've never been a fan of ballet before, but I gotta tell ya'.......