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A black Chrysler Craftsman 300 limousine was stranded on our Tangelo tree last night. I was amazed at the strength of our fledgling tree, six months old, continuing to bear the enormous weight without any branches breaking.
I knocked on its driver side tinted window three times. At the third knock, it opened a crack. A voice from inside asked softly. "What do you want?"
"You are parked on my tangelo tree."
"Now I understand why there was no traction on the wheels."
"You will need a helicopter to get this limousine off of my tree. A crane would tear up my tree and yard."
Two hours later, a huge coral red helium balloon hovered above the limousine. A thick rope was thrown down next to the limousine. As it brushed against its window, the window opened. A young woman leaned out of the window. She had a tan oval shaped face, eyes slightly slanted.
As she climbed out, sand colored breasts with purple nipples slipped out of a loose white silk kimono, engraved with green dragons spitting fiery flames. As she landed on the lawn, she bent down, looped the rope and tossed the end under the limousine. I saw her tan derrière and gasped at the milk white cheeks. I smelled jasmine, cinnamon and basil. Basil? I remembered the row of pungent basil planted along the lanai. Was this what they call mixed feelings? I continued my lecherous thoughts. I wanted to run over there and stop them from moving the limousine.
I imagined us inside holding crystal glasses of champagne, toasting our serendipity, crossing arms at the elbows. I swallowed. She sipped. She dropped her glass, leaned over me and placed her lips on mine. She turned, walked toward me, and stared. I said firmly, I am a married man."
"I like the married part of a man. They can't do much more than look."
She dropped her kimono on the grass, and cupped her breasts. She bent her slim neck, held her small teats in the palm of her hands and licked their nipples with a long pink tongue, one at a time, until they grew as the size and shape of green olives with pimentos. Thirty seconds later they swung free, as she lifted her arms into the air, did a triple somersault on the lawn, and then slipped down to a leisurely roll in the grass. Two minutes later, she grinned, mouth wide, turned, picked up the kimono, slipped it on, then went to the other side of the limousine and tied the rope with a tight knot. She hauled herself feet first through the window and closed it.
The horn beeped three times. The balloon gently lifted the limousine off my tangelo tree. It got smaller and smaller until it disappeared into the sky.
I went back into my house, poured myself a malt beer, drank it down too fast, and got the hiccups. I was up all night with them. The next day I went out to water the lawn, and there were seven one hundred dollar bills tied with red ribbon bows to the branches of my tangelo tree. There was a note attached to its trunk. The note was written in flourishing strokes that stated. "Thank you for your consideration in allowing us to remain on your tree, and also for the use of your lawn as I waited for our balloon to arrive. You have a lovely tree, and we hope it will bear a delicious, juicy crop. Stapled to the back of the note, was a photograph of me with my pecker slipping out of my shorts. I ripped the photograph and note in tiny shreds, put the bills in my wallet, and saved the ribbons for gifts. I placed the shreds in my garbage can under a pile of coffee grounds.
I never heard or saw any report of a limousine landing on anyone’s lawn, and never came across the young woman, but I occasional dream about her. I never told my wife about the incident; however, our lovemaking has improved dramatically.
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