" Tony? What's going on?" Bea said coming on the line a minute later."I need you in Nashville like right now Bea. Put on your good duds and get ready ...o do some of that PR shit I'm paying for that you never actually get to do." Whoa, what's going on?" Some local trade mag published that we were here recording. I've got two reporters already and I don't even know who I'm refusing to talk to on the phone, three calls already wanting to talk to someone. I had no idea anyone in Nashville even knew. Then the pain hit. Just as I blacked out I noticed that my hair had gotten real long and gone all golden/white... just like the weird little girls. I woke up back inside the farmhouse, on that very couch you are a sittin' on. I was wearin' a nice gingham dress, and some, I think the word is sensible, shoes. I had on no stockin's, but I could feel strange undergarments on me. At least strange before that moment. Not so strange now... not after 36 years of wearin' them. I know... I know I don't. And that hair, that flaming splash of red in the morning sun… An ache spread through my chest. Butterflies fluttered, twisting my stomach. I was just out of high school, college an incoming blur of a dream now looming before me as reality, only summer standing as a buffer between me and it, and I fell in love at first sight. When I made my way downstairs, my parents were peeking out the blinds like a couple of voyeurs. Through the slit their fingers made, I could see the bold blue lettering. When I was just a few yards away, I could hear Val’s voice. “You must be quite skilled with your hands,’ she giggled. “That certainly helps,” he responded softly, “But, most of the effort is in the head.” “Let me see your hands.” She asked. It was clear from the tone of her voice that she was moving in on him. I knew exactly what she was doing, and not only because it was prearranged. It was the same voice she often used with me before asking me to ravish her. She loved to be handled, taken as.
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