beautiful in her day

Littlegirlcop sat on the deck, late on a mid-week afternoon, enjoying fifteen minutes of sun between work and the start of his workout. Murphy had changed into his shorts and a t-shirt that wasn't quite fresh but didn't smell too bad. His sneaker sat beside his chair with a pair of white sox sticking out of one of them, his toes moving free in the breeze. The deck was almost empty, just one other person, a sunday painter, and a painting of Shavone in her usual spot on the deck.

If it was a sunny afternoon you could pretty much bet you'd find Shavone sitting on the sun deck of the Athletic Club eating her bag lunch. There she sat, her sun glasses on, her shorts rolled up a bit to expose more leg to the sun, her feet up on a chair. A gaggle of old guys around her. Shavone didn't exercise, it's not clear if she ever did really, but she'd been a club member for a long time, as long as the club has admitted women. Before that she was a frequent guest of several of the male members. She was beautiful in her day and surely she had many admirerers.

The painter recounted how earlier that day the old men teased the model. Teasing her that she should pose nude then that she definitely shouldn't. Later one of the old guys listed off the names of Shavone's boyfriends to the younger painter. Murphy simultaneously did and didn't want to know the names of the old woman's lovers. He really didn't want to picture Shavone having sex. It wasn't quite as bad as thinking of your mother having sex, thought Murphy, but it was at least as bad as picturing an old aunt in flagrante delicto. But after a few minutes curiosity got the best of him and he asked.

Around the club, on the photo covered walls, are several copies of the same photo of Shavone. It's a picture of her looking sporty sitting on the hood of a car, her hair then stylish, coal black and teased high, the same color and shape it is today. Murphy had often thought one of those photos would look great in his apartment.