I left something behind at a fancy hotel… in absentia.
Many years ago an old girlfriend was having a passionate, extremely private affair with a man. They made plans to rendezvous at a high class joint, away from the kids and gossiping neighbors. She went out and bought some really, really, really expensive and alluring French underwear. Apparently when she left, she neglected to retrieve them. I mean this stuff was for looks only and probably not that practical. She called the hotel the next day, wanting them back. When asked for her name she panicked and said, Diana Talley.
I guess they disappeared but it’s nice to know someone somewhere was thinking juicy things about me.
Sometimes I just want to move to Montana, change my name to Sally. Get me a job in a diner off highway 15, call everyone Hunny. Everyone. Dye my hair red, let the roots grow long. Wear a pink uniform with a lacy handkerchief in the pocket. Top 2 buttons, always undone. Brassiere and straps showing some, primary colors. Sensible shoes. Take up smoking again. Camel straights. Again. Finally learn to drink beer, but not lite. Cuss even more. It might be possible.
There once was a flirtatious gal,
Who went by the nickname of Sal,
Her spring rolls, unique,
Décolleté gave a peek,
But her pies really made her yer pal.