A Ghost In The Closet. Mabel Maney

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      “The rain makes a pleasant sound on the convertible roof,” Cherry thought as she stared out the car window at the festive lights of downtown Lake Merrimen. Ever since Jackie had opened the passenger door of George’s jalopy and Cherry had hopped in, taking care not to let her snug sheath ride up over her thighs, she had been unable to think of even one clever, lighthearted comment to get the conversation rolling.

      “Say something,” Cherry scolded herself. She knew it was Jackie’s duty to provide transportation and make recreational decisions, and hers to keep the conversation light and playful. Trouble was, every time she did think of something clever or amusing to say, one look at the big handsome girl sitting beside her and all thoughts flew out of her head.

      “The … er … rain is … uh … nice,” Cherry remarked shyly.

      “Yes, it is,” Jackie said.

      Cherry dropped her gaze and became absorbed in admiring the gardenia on her bosom.

      “It looks nice with your dress,” Jackie said.

      “What? Oh!” Cherry colored. “Yes. My dress. It’s Velma’s you know.” She smoothed out the wrinkles in her lap. While the dress was indeed a sophisticated number, its plunging neckline worried Cherry. “I hope I don’t catch a chest cold!” she murmured.

      “What was that?” Jackie wondered.

      Cherry jumped. “I—I—didn’t say anything,” she stammered.

      “Oh, I thought you did,” Jackie explained. She checked her rugged detective’s watch. They had reservations at a fancy supper club somewhere on this block and Jackie was having trouble finding the place. If truth be told, she was having a hard time keeping her mind on anything at that moment—anything, that is, but the gorgeous girl in the clingy dress sitting on the edge of her seat.

      Cherry clutched her small beaded bag, just big enough to hold hankie, lipstick, compact and emergency thermometer, to her breast. It was on loan from Velma, along with the impossibly high heels on her feet, the jangling bracelets over her black elbow-length gloves, glamorous make-up, luscious perfume, and even her black lacy push-up bra. Midge had been sad to see that item go out the door!

      “Well, it looks nice on you,” Jackie told her.

      Cherry turned pink. Did Jackie mean her brassiere? Cherry peered down her dress and was relieved to see her undergarments were safely out of sight. Good thing, because droopy slip straps were a sure-fire recipe for fashion disaster!

      “Your dress. It looks nice on you,” Jackie repeated.

      “I don’t normally wear outfits this snug,” Cherry admitted. “I’m much more accustomed to wearing a blousy uniform gathered at the waist with a simple belt, sensible, low-heeled rubber-soled shoes, my crisp cap and in the winter, my cunning midnight blue cape.” The minute the words were out of her mouth she could have kicked herself. Some date she was turning out to be! She had broken the second of her mother’s fifty-three rules for successful dating. “Never talk about yourself!”

      “That dress certainly suits you,” Jackie said as she pulled the car into a spot outside the gay-looking supper club. “But then again, I’ve never seen you in anything that didn’t,” she admitted as she cut the engine, slid her arm behind Cherry and flicked up the lock on the door.

      A funny feeling stirred in Cherry as she breathed in deeply, reveling in Jackie’s scent, a combination of soap and Aqua Velva. Cherry had never seen Jackie so handsome as she was tonight in her dapper dark lightweight wool suit with its boxy jacket that draped her strong frame beautifully, and its pleated, cuffed trousers pressed to perfection. “I could cut my finger on that sharp crease of her trousers,” Cherry thought. She blushed when she realized she was staring at Jackie’s thigh.

      “Are you ready?” Jackie murmured softly. She gave Cherry’s gloved hand a little squeeze. Cherry couldn’t help but blush again as she felt Jackie’s eyes sweep over her curvy figure, starting with her creamy white shoulders and working down to her womanly hips.

      “Ready for what?” Cherry cried in alarm.

      Jackie grinned. “Dinner,” she said.

      Although Cherry had doubted she could consume even one morsel while wearing that snug dress, twenty minutes later she had managed to drink two glasses of sparkling champagne and nibble on some scrumptious canapés. While Jackie ordered a delectable meal, Cherry looked with wide-eyed wonder around the Macambo Room, exclaiming over the soft sapphire blue walls, blue and white draperies and white marble dance floor. “This place is heaven!” she exclaimed as she watched happy couples glide across the room to the gay tunes of the Phil Bolero Orchestra. “And I love these white leather settees; they’re so neighborly!” she cried as she boldly scooted closer to Jackie, who smiled and ordered another bottle of champagne.