Dangerous Woman

She always thought “dangerous woman” had something to do with the height of their heels or the fit of their clothing. She always thought “dangerous woman” had something to do with the state of their mental or moral health. So she always stayed away from “dangerous women” and eyed them heavily when she was with her man.

Until one day she was caught unawares by a dead battery and no one to call for help. The day a “dangerous woman” offered to let her borrow her phone. The dangerous woman wasn’t eyeing her. The dangerous woman wasn’t judging her. Cause that’s what it was, judging, not eyeing. And that was the day it all changed.

Angela and the dangerous woman, Deannie, became friends. Deannie introduced Angela to other dangerous women: Stacie, Halie, Connie.

“You’re all ie’s,” Angela mentioned once when they were all together.

After some giggles and the kind of laughter that turned several male heads, Deannie explained, “We’re all not ie’s. I’m DeAnn. That’s Stacy, with a y. That’s Haley with a y. That’s Constance. She’s actually the only one of us that’s even close to a true ie.”

“So, why all the ie’s then?” Angela asked.

“Cause ie’s have more fun, honey,” said Connie with a sly smile, a wiggle of her eyebrows, and a shimmy of her tits.

All the ladies cracked up, drawing another round of stares from the men in the room.

“We’ll turn you into an Angie yet!” Deannie cried, inciting another round of laughter and head turning.

Later, at home with her now husband, Angela thought about what the ladies had said. Clearly they were aware of the eyeing they received both from men and women. Aware and choosing to step into it. But why? Why choose to be a dangerous woman?

That Saturday night at her company holiday party, Angela was trying desperately not to yawn. “I just need to make it through the gift exchange and I can slip back home to my jammies,” she thought to herself as the plates were cleared and people drained what was left of the cheap wine from their glasses.

The boss stood up and gave his obligatory speech, painful as always, followed by the polite clapping and “ohs” and “ahs” of employees working for a paycheck. And then it was time for the gift exchange. Angela was near the end, a distinctly advantageous position usually, although at an employee gift exchange it was highly unlikely there’d be anything she actually wanted…except maybe what she’d brought. “Who would know if I opened my own gift,” she wondered.

And then it happened. The sweetest woman in the world, old Meredith from accounting, opened a present that was very clearly unacceptable. First, it didn’t meet the monetary requirement that had been set. Not even close. Second, it didn’t meet the company party whitewashing that was unstated but well understood. Third, it was downright juvenile, and these were all supposedly adults here. And of all the people to open it, it was kindly, elderly, quiet, Meredith.

“What is it?” people in the back were asking.

No one close enough to see what she’d unwrapped could say it out loud. Meredith’s face turned the brightest shade of red Angela had ever seen. A hush fell over the party as word finally spread and everyone realized what had happened.

The boss, finally being notified of the gaff, stood up, coughed and loudly asked, “where are we now? Eight? Who’s number eight?”

The party continued. People would have their number called and would open a present. There wasn’t any stealing. There was nothing here anyone wanted, not even the people who brought the gift to begin with. And next thing you knew it was Angela’s turn.

She stood up, walked towards the gift table to take something, and then turned toward Meredith. “I’m going to steal,” Angela heard herself saying. And she saw herself take the vibrator out from the bag Meredith had hurriedly shoved it back into, and say “my husband and I broke our last one.” Laughing the laugh of her friends and smiling the smile of her friends, Angela walked back to her seat.

The room exploded into laughter and after things calmed down a bit, Meredith picked a different gift and the game continued until all the gifts had been opened. The party finished winding down, everyone said their goodbye’s and see-you-on-Monday’s, and that was that.

Later, at home with her husband, Angela told him the story and after they’d both had a good laugh they decided what the hell….

Laying in bed with her husband snoring beside her Angela realized a dangerous woman has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with clothes, sanity, or compunction. A truly dangerous woman is one who has everything. She can’t be coerced because there’s nothing you have that she wants. She can’t be frightened because there’s nothing you have that she needs. A dangerous woman is one with nothing to hide; and it turns out, Angela was one dangerous woman.

Monday morning Meredith stopped by Angela’s desk. “I just wanted to thank you for…the other night,” she stammered, cheeks turning pink.

“Oh, Meredith, it was nothing. You’re welcome.”

“No, no, Angela, really, I couldn’t possibly have gone home with…” Meredith trailed off.

“Honey, it really was my pleasure. And call me Angie, my friends do.”

~~~That’s an hour~~~

Published by sundaydutro

Burgeoning author.

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