Do You Believe in Magic? Read Online Free

workshop I went to last month.”
    Tamara rolled her eyes as she turned to Francie’s lingerie drawer. “Just what you need, another computer type. I can see him already: scrawny, thick glasses, bad haircut, pale with a computer pallor from being inside all the time, and the usual pocket protector. He probably thinks ‘someplace nice’ would be one of the upscale burger joints. Well, I’ll do what I can to help you. A date is a date, and it gets you out of the house. So, what happened? Did he just call you out of the blue?”
    “Uh, no. He’s a consultant. We ran into each other in the lobby of my office building.” Francie wasn’t about to correct Tamara’s assumption of Clay’s description. That would raise too many more questions, and she didn’t have the time or the strength to answer them now. After she put on the underwear and hose Tamara pulled out of the drawer, she looked down at her peach lace-and-satin bra and panties set. “Isn’t this a little too much? It’s just a date.”
    “I’ve always approved of your lingerie, you know, and no, it’s just right. I’m glad you didn’t give up nice underwear when you went drab.” She held up another set, this one a light lavender. “Boy, howdy. If the guy could only get a glimpse of this, he’d probably keel over on the spot. No chance of that, unfortunately,” she ended with a sigh.
    “Tamara,” Francie said, injecting a warning note in her voice to leave the subject alone. She shivered. She didn’t want to even consider Clay seeing her in her underwear. She stepped into the dress and put her hands through the sleeves.
    “Okay, I’ll be quiet.” Tamara came behind her and zipped up the dress, then dug around in Francie’s jewelry box. “Here, put on this necklace and these earrings with it. And hold still while I punch up your makeup. Do you have to wear those glasses?” She nodded at the spectacles resting on the chest of drawers.
    “Yes.” Francie shoved them back on her nose when Tamara was finished with the eye shadow and blusher. She needed some sort of defense against Clay, and in this dress, her glasses would be all she had.
    “You don’t need this hairdo, either,” Tamara ordered, taking down the twist and fluffing her mass of blond hair so it fell over Francie’s shoulders. “There. That looks nicer.”
    The doorbell rang. “Finish dressing,” Tamara said.
    “I’ll let him in.”
    “But . . .” She was too late. Tamara was out the bedroom door and closing it before Francie could stop her. All she could do now was put on her shoes, change purses, and hope Tamara wouldn’t grill Clay about their meeting.
    Tamara whirled back into the bedroom within a couple of minutes, closed the door, and leaned back against it panting, her hand on her upper chest.
    “Tamara, what?”
    “Francie, that is no computer nerd out there. That is an absolutely gorgeous MAN, in capital letters, in a navy suit I know for a fact cost big bucks, and he’s got a smile that would tempt a saint.”
    “Oh, please.” Francie rolled her eyes.
    “And with a deep voice that slides over you, and a backside that cries to be touched, well . . .” She grabbed Francie by the shoulders, gave her a little shake, and whispered fiercely, “Francie, you listen to me. Don’t you dare go into your don’t-touch-me act with this one. He’s definitely not Walt. I don’t care what his brain is like or if he just wants your body. Let yourself go! It’s about time you had some fun with a man, and if ever there was a man to have fun with, it’s this one!”
    She stopped to take a breath. “My goodness! I’ll never think of computer nerds the same way again. And if he has a brother, or a cousin, or even a friend like him, promise me you’ll introduce me.” Tamara increased her shaking of Francie until they were both vibrating.
    “Tamara!” Francie whispered back, just as strongly. “Get hold of yourself. This is only our first date.”
    Tamara stepped