Tammy

Taylor answered the phone, with a groggy 'Hello'.

After short banter, she rolled over and woke up John.

"I know it's late, but Tammy broke down. Would you be able to go help her change her tire?" Taylor asked.

Throwing on his sweat pants, he rushed out the door.

After driving around for 30 mins, he found Tammy's black Lexus on the side of the road. She was kneeling by one of the tires, in a short pinstripe skirt-suit.

Getting closer, he was able to see her hair was disheveled. Her light blonde hair which was once in a bun was now cascading in long wisps down her face. Her suit was ripped in a few places, showing more skin than it should have, and grease marks were on her cheek, legs, and hands.

She scrunched her face "I think I may have fixed it myself, at the expense of my outfit!" she said coyly. "I am so sorry that you had to be **** out here".

"My gosh, you look a mess!" John said.

"WELL! I SAY!", she squealed, offended.

"No, I mean... well, in a sexy way..." John yammered.

"Oh..." she replied, smiling. Her cheeks began to blush.

"The least I could do is follow you home to make sure you get home OK.... " John suggested.

20 minutes later, they pulled up into her driveway.

"Why don't you come on in, I'll fix you a drink for your trouble", Tammy asked.

They entered the house, and he plopped down on her leather sofa.

She poured herself a shot of whiskey, and chugged it. "It's been a VERY rough, and long day.", she said, exhausted. She began mixing another drink, then said "Here... have a whiskey sour."

John took the drink.

"Hold right there, while I get out of these wretched clothes..." she said, walking out of the room.

John smiled, as he looked at the photo on the coffee table. Tammy and her daughter Denise had large vibrant smiles. Denise looked like a younger version of Tammy, a spitting image - with darker hair. Denise left for college 2 years ago, leaving Tammy alone in this big house.