I pull the pink- and white-striped birthday candle out from within the folds of my care-worn overcoat pocket and look over my shoulder slyly before pressing it against the window pane grooves.

Best I grease these tracks before trying to open the window; less noise that way.

Adjusting the volume on my hearing aids, I try to listen for any movement upstairs. Detecting none, I quickly pick up my L.L. Bean carry-all bag and tighten my grip around it's softened-with-age leather handles. Peeking inside, I cover my mouth to muffle some girlish giggles.

Feeling all 74 years of my old bones, I lift the paint-chipped, wooden frame of my first floor bedroom window up. Making sure to have disconnected it from the house alarm system earlier in the day, when everyone was off at work and school, I smile at my craftiness.

Young ones aren't the only folk who know how to use YouTube.

After my community resources class last month, the one my daughter-in-law insisted I take so that I could navigate my cell phone, I found a whole new world at my fingertips.

Meeting Nickolai in an on-line chatroom was a side bonus I never expected. He's been such a charming fellow. He sends me sweet nothings via email, and I forward him weblinks to local autoclub groups I've found on the net.

Like a teenage daughter with an over-bearing father, my son would never understand. I'd never be able to date at my age without his cursed interference. Too old to have my son blathering around me like a fluffed-up rooster, I decide to take the high road; out my window that is. Like any other virile, hot-blooded woman in my situation, I am sneaking out.

I'm going on a hot date to the racetracks tonight and nothing is getting in my way.

Biting my lip, careful not lose my balance, I plop my bag outside the window and onto the waiting garden bench. I had it strategically placed here last week. Charles and Berta thought it'd make a lovely addition to their landscaping. Little did they know what my true intentions were for suggesting they purchase it.

I may be ambitious about meeting my beau, but come on. I'm not an idiot. At my age, I need to use whatever I can to my advantage.

Swinging both legs around the window ledge, I smile as I teeter onto the bench and sit down, careful not to fall.

That's all I need; to break a hip while trying to sneak out to see a man.

Agnes'd never let me live that one down. And Gloria, down at the beauty salon; forget it. Goodness, that news would spread like wildflower throughout the entire community center if she ever found out what I'm about. Not to mention, if Jimmy heard I'm seeing someone, he'd never play Rummi with me again. We've always been just friends, but still. It'd be a lot of drama, believe you me.

Oiy!

Can't have that.

When I ease myself down to the seat, I slip off my sneakers and hide them under the bench. Reaching into my carry-all bag, I pull out my new, rhinestone-peppered heels.

When Agnes and I were at the shopping center the other day we found them. They're what my granddaughter, Sophie, would call "OMG" or some other such acronym that's in-style right now. The bottoms are red lacquer, and from what I gathered by her enthusiasm, this is a very cool thing.

When I think about how excited Sophie got when she saw these shoes, I just shrug. Such a long Italian name...

Ah, well, what do I care?

They're just like any other high heels to me when I put them on. All I know is that they were on sale at the local second-hand store and that they look and feel great.

And now they're mine.

Life is good.

Standing up, I slip out of my ancient overcoat, folding it up to bury it inside my bag, and then push it under the bench next to my sneakers.

I press my hands down across the silky, flowing skirt of my wrap dress, and grin. It's tea-length, with a ruffled fringe on the end. Dorothy lent it to me for tonight. When I showed her Nickolai's picture she got so flustered she had to sit down and fan herself. She said to me, "Pearl, that man makes my heating pad overload. You have to look hot for him on your first date."

Ten minutes later, we were foraging through her closet looking for the perfect dress. As a former dance teacher, Dorothy has a large assortment of beautiful gowns and costumes. She lent me one of her little black dresses, and a small accompanying red rose-on-black necklace. I finger it lovingly as I wait for our signal.

When I see the set of lights flashing silently across the road a few minutes later, I stand and smile.

Walking towards his sleek, candy apple red hotrod, I watch Nickolai open his door and step outside of it.

Sweet Jellybeans!

Hubba, hubba!

Boy, is that man handsome; standing there in his 3-piece suit, tipping his hat towards me as he walks around to open my door so I can quickly climb in.

Look out tiger, here I come.

Roaw!

THE END.

_________________

Photo by David Straight from www.unsplash.com.

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<a style="background-color:black;color:white;text-decoration:none;padding:4px 6px;font-family:-apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, &quot;San Francisco&quot;, &quot;Helvetica Neue&quot;, Helvetica, Ubuntu, Roboto, Noto, &quot;Segoe UI&quot;, Arial, sans-serif;font-size:12px;font-weight:bold;line-height:1.2;display:inline-block;border-radius:3px"><span style="display:inline-block;padding:2px 3px"><svg style="height:12px;width:auto;position:relative;vertical-align:middle;top:-2px;fill:white"><title>unsplash-logo</title><path></path></svg></span><span style="display:inline-block;padding:2px 3px">David Straight</span>