Marjorie and Hank

(Part 1) [This week's "As the Pegasus Flies"] When Marjorie went to Henry's office to drop off some papers, Horace was there with a camera, so she spontaneously threw her arm around Hank and asked for a picture to be taken. Marjorie just couldn't keep her hands off of Henry. It was as simple as that. Some men have it, and some men don't. The "it" of course is that intangible, animal magnetism. Sure, you can go to the gym and lift dumbbells, throw a medicine ball around, do pushups. But you can't get charisma from working out. And Henry had charisma in spades. His buddies at work called him Hank, and she wanted to get to that level of comfort with him, too. Of course, in her mind she already thought of him as Hank. Or Hanky Panky when she was feeling frisky. Just look at him! He could have easily become an actor, a leading man, but chose a life in publishing instead. He was a recent widower, and Marjorie knew she'd have to compete with a slew of other women for Hank's attention. All she could do for now was bide her time, try to put out some vibes that maybe Hank would pick up on. Once he was ready to date again, she knew she'd have to pounce first--and fast--like a cat on an unsuspecting mouse. Meow!

(Part 2) This Marjorie is a real hot dish. Legs up to her neck. Body language that speaks volumes. And it ain't condensed volumes I'm talking about. She's a real fashion plate too; those cat glasses can drive a man wild. Meow! Horace said she likes me, and that I should start courting her. It's a little too soon, I said. Too soon after losing Lenore. Horace replied that three years is long enough. Anyway, Marjorie's much younger than I am, she can't possibly be interested in a geezer like me. Could she? When she threw her arm around me earlier, I could feel the electricity between us. Maybe it was just my imagination. She was probably just being friendly. There's nothing there. I'm a foolish old man. After work I'll go home, and water my lawn, like a good suburbanite, while my TV dinner is warming in the oven. A new episode of "I Love Lucy" is on tonight to keep me company. And there you have it: My evening. Not so bad, I guess. Could be worse. Oh hell, who am I kidding. Maybe I AM ready to start dating again. It's been so long though, I wouldn't even know how to begin. I can get Lorenzo to give me some pointers. He's good with the ladies. He can give me a pep talk. Let me go see if he's around...

(Part 3) "You need more confidence," Lorenzo said. "Hold your chin up. Speak with authority. And don't pull your pants up so high. You won't catch my paesan Sinatra wearing his pants like that." "But my butt is skinny. I need to really tighten my belt, keep my pants from falling down," Hank said. Lorenzo shook his head. "Women, they no like that look. If you ever have any doubts, just think, What Would Sinatra Do?" They were in Hank's office with the door shut. Hank stood with his arms out, letting Lorenzo inspect him. Lorenzo leaned in and sniffed Hank. He asked, "What is this smell?" Hank said, "Uh, I don't know. After shave?" Lorenzo again shook his head. "Too old man. Reminds me of mothballs. I'm going to give you a bottle of what I use. It's the closest scent I've found yet to the American dollar." Hank asked, "You want me to smell like money?" "Si." "And this will attract women?" "Si." "Okay," Hank said doubtfully. Lorenzo then grabbed Hank by the shirt. "You have to be more casual. Take off this tie. Undo the top button. Show some chest hair!" This was too much for Hank. "I'm a man, not an animal!" "Ah, but you ARE an animal. That's what you want the ladies to think. A tiger in the bedroom." Hank did as he was told. Lorenzo said, "Now tomorrow, you spray the cologne on, wear your shirt open like that, have confidence, and BE A MAN!"

(Part 4) Marjorie gussied herself up that morning. She decided she couldn't risk waiting around for Hank to be ready to date again. She had to force the issue. You can't wait for men to decide what they want; they don't know what they want. She would just have to ask HIM out on a date. Once at the office, she went to the kitchen to get coffee, hoping to bump into Hank. Lorenzo was there making an espresso. "Ciao Marjorie, my sweet little zeppola." "Good morning, Lorenzo...my little...penne." He wasn't sure how to take this, and hoped she wasn't making fun of his manhood. Had she heard something? "So," he said to change the subject, "my friend Hank. He's a good man." "Henry? Yes, he's very nice." Just then Hank arrived, holding an empty coffee mug. His pants were riding low, his shirt was open with the sleeves rolled up. Seven chest hairs were peeking out. Lorenzo gave him a wink. "There's my paesan." Hank hadn't been expecting to see Marjorie so soon, and was caught off guard. "Hello Lorenzo...Marjorie." Hank could smell his new cologne, and wondered if he had overdone it when splashing it on earlier. Marjorie felt his animal magnetism more than usual. Was it actually getting stronger by the day? Meow! There was a new, intangible element added to the mix. She could barely control herself. "Let me pour some coffee for you," she said. "I like it sweet," he said. Then, remembering he had to speak with confidence, he added, "Just like my women." "Oh, Hanky." "Oh, Margie." Suddenly, they were wrapped in a passionate, carnal embrace. Lorenzo, his job as cupid done, ducked out of the kitchen. He whistled Sinatra's "I've Got You Under My Skin" all the way back to the cafeteria.

(Part 5) [The conclusion to this week's "As the Pegasus Flies"] They made their way to the storage room above the library to get better "acquainted." Hank said, "Lorenzo told me about this little love nest." Marjorie exclaimed, "That Lorenzo, what a Romeo!" They climbed the spiral staircase and got settled. After getting better acquainted, they shared a cigarette. "Smoking is SO cool!" Marjorie said. "Actually," Hank said, "I'm beginning to suspect it's bad for you." "Nah, they'd tell us if it were." "I guess." Hank let out a long stream of smoke, aimed it at the ceiling, then said, "I had a dream last night that I came to work and the whole building was empty. The lawn was overgrown, windows cracked, roof leaking, the entire building abandoned." "That's weird. What do you think it means?" Hank handed the cigarette to Marjorie. "I don't know," he said, "but it felt so real." "Did you go inside?" "Yeah. It barely looked the same. Small little empty offices with half walls. The paintings were all gone. My office pretty much looked the same, but without the furniture. It was a ghost town. The only thing needed was a tumbleweed rolling by." Marjorie said, "I'm scared, Hanky--hold me." Hank put his arms around her, then continued, "Maybe the dream just meant that I was afraid to be alone. I'm not getting any younger. You know, I lost my wife three years ago." "I know. And you're not alone anymore." They finished the cigarette and Hank stubbed it out in the ashtray Lorenzo kept hidden on a nearby shelf. They straightened up, then descended the stairs and went their separate ways, stealing a quick kiss before they parted. When Hank got to his office, Lorenzo was waiting for him. "Paesan, my advice, it worked, no?" "It worked great, Lorenzo. Now, can you teach me to cook?" Lorenzo perked up. "Si! The way to a woman's heart is through her stomach. I will teach you a taste of home---Italy!" "Thank you. TV dinners are okay for me, but I can't make them for Marjorie." Lorenzo put his arm around Hank conspiratorially. "So, tell me. This Marjorie--does she have a sister?"

{Good luck with the move, everyone. Sue Nami will see you in White Plains!}