Destiny’s Chastity
Chapter V
The Date
“What a horrible nightmare,” thought Destiny as she and her favorite ferret, Suzy, pushed back the covers Saturday morning. “Spilling hot java on my favorite sweats for some pet store wacko who looked like he’d been abducted by aliens. Thank heavens, it was all a dream.”
Then the phone rang.
“I’ll get it, Suzy,” said Destiny. “No, wait. It could be one of those annoying ferret friends of yours up to their old tricks. I’ll let the machine pick it up.”
The answering machine starts recording.
“Hi, Destiny? This is Hunter. You know, the sexy wacko you met in the pet store. Well, this alien abduction thing really screwed up my watch, so if it’s OK, will you just swing by my place this Friday?
“If I’m not here, it means I probably got abducted again. But I think they’re done experimenting on me, so it should be OK. OK? Great, see you.”
Well, that call really steamed Destiny’s clams.
“He could have been the one. The One!” lamented Destiny. “Now, he’s making me drive and rescheduling dates. OK, he has a good excuse, but come on.”
“I guess I’ll never find true love,” sighed Destiny.
One week later
Finally, it was Friday night, and Destiny was driving like a bat out of hell on her way to Hunter’s abode. Suddenly, she realized she couldn’t remember what Hunter looked like.
“I hope he’s cute,” she thought. “I think he was.”
She tried to reassure herself that, of course, he was cute. Who would go out with someone after a few minutes of conversation unless he made your pantyhose roll up and down?
“What if he looks like Beavis?” she thought. “And talks like Butt-head?”
But by the time she pulled onto Hunter’s street, Destiny decided she’d hop in the sack with the guy even if he looked like Quasimodo and talked like Jerry Lewis. Let’s face it, all your life is a long time to wait for a trip around the moon on gossamer wings.
In front of Hunter’s house, she honked for the man-beast. No response.
Honked again. No response.
Suddenly, out of the west came a man galloping toward her on horseback. Was it him? Was it? Yes, it must be because she could just make out that he was wearing a T-shirt with the letters “H-U-N-T-E-R.”
With the setting sun at his back, Hunter raced toward Destiny as if his life depended on reaching her. As he came to the car, he slowed and circled the Explorer a few times.
“Nice rack,” he said.
“Thanks,” she replied. “It holds suitcases. Skis. Dead animals. Anything, really.”
Her answer puzzled Hunter, but so many things did. Why would she put suitcases on a rack when they belong in the back? Why was there evil? Why did he have a horse in the middle of the city? And was there really no such thing as a stupid question?
Hunter leaped off his horse and into the front seat, producing a bouquet of flowers from up his sleeve.
“For you, my sweet,” he said.
Destiny’s eyes lit up like a woman’s eyes will when she receives flowers from a good-looking horseback-riding man type.
The night throbbed with erotic promise. “Sex, sex, sex,” the wind seemed to whisper to them. And so, unable to resist desire any longer, the two began the lover’s dance, exchanging coy glances, seductive smiles and obscene hand gestures.
So smitten were they, they didn’t care where Destiny’s love chariot stopped. To the moon! To the stars! To . . . Big Fred’s Miniature Golf World.
“Two rounds of golf, $10 please,” droned a teenage employee of Big Fred’s.
Hunter beheld Big Fred’s windmill hole, and his heart leaped with joy. “Finally, a woman who understands men. Finally.”
Hunter unsheathed his putter, which he always carried with him. His father had always told him to carry a putter. He didn’t know why the old man had insisted on it, but he had. Every time Hunter had questioned his pop about it, he’d just get smacked. So, Hunter stopped asking so many questions and just started carrying the darned thing.
The miniature golfers were soon lost in passion’s reverie. Hunter was so far gone that when he six-putted the waterfall hole, which he usually scores a 2 on, max, he just laughed and laughed. Normally, he would have twisted his club around an innocent bystander’s neck and chucked them into the water if that happened.
But tonight, everything was right.
Or was it? For a certain Sir Oliver Sneddley, who had been following the two all night, had other plans--dastardly plans--for the young putting lovebirds.
Sneddley, Destiny’s boss at Java Universe, was tired of having his frisky advances rebuffed by the chaste Destiny. He had enticed her to work for him. Now, he knew he had to have her.
When Sneddley looked upon his dear “Snookums” as he secretly called her, all his pain fell away. She was the one, the only one, who could help him forget that horrible, horrible trauma to be discussed more fully in a later chapter, so keep reading.
Sneddley saw the couple standing face to face before the castle hole. It looked as if they were about to kiss! Never!
“Destiny!” Sneddley shouted, surprising even himself.
The voice split the couple’s embrace.
“Sir Sneddley?” said Destiny.
“Why, why,” stumbled Sneddley, trying to manufacture a lie. “I wanted to give you something, that’s all.”
“Really? What’s that?” asked Hunter.
Sneddley quickly pulled out two pills.
“Here, both of you take these,” he insisted as a smile crept over his face at the cleverness of his elaborate lie. “There’s been a poisonous gas attack by invisible aliens. Here’s the only antidote. Take these or you’ll die!”
“Really?” asked Destiny.
“Really,” said Sneddley, handing them a canteen filled with ice-cold sparkling Calistoga mineral water.
Reluctantly, the two downed the pills, and within moments they fell over like bowling pins.
“Soon Hunter will be no more,” laughed Sneddley, “and Destiny will be mine. Forever!”
Meanwhile, somewhere in Chapter VI:
When he saw Destiny about to embrace a lanky yet muscular man at the miniature golf park only an hour ago, he felt a shock of recognition when he realized it was Hunter, the last of the Simones, the only man in the world who stood in his way.
*
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