short story: Betty and a stranger

10/6/13 we spent ~ 40 minutes writing a short story...my concept: what if a handsome stranger asked to fly you to your chosen destination and my story: Betty, who's never done anything not planned out by others, impulsively says yes, only to find herself trapped on a hijacked plane with a stranger.

funny how the first dump draft misses the mark...lol
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Betty wiped her brow. The afternoon sun was working overtime, one would think it was August. She nodded aimlessly as Ginger yapped about someone doing her wrong yet again. Something about the wrong size, color, or whatever had rubbed her dimple-free behind wrong.

Betty had been born and raised in Charlotte, North Carolina. From the outside she had it good. Well-off parents married thirty years with no social dirt to speak of. Her father owned a bank, mother a housewife and older brother Skip, former high school hottie and quarterback, now married with two kids and worked for daddy. Bred with manners and social grace, Betty's childhood revolved around pageants, piano and perfect grades. And of course, she was only allowed around the social elite.

Husband, Carlson, was handpicked. Son of a judge and a prominent lawyer. He was the only man, boy, Betty had ever dated, kissed or slept with. And continued to underwhelm her expectations. Betty's only job was to maintain their two acre plantation and flash her southern charm on Carlson's shoulder.

"Betty," Ginger said, tapping her pink manicured nail against her porcelain tea cup. "I asked you a question."

Betty's cheeks burned.

Once again she'd drifted into the safety of her imagination, anything to escape the dread her real life held.

Ginger sipped her tea, dabbed the corner of her mouth with her cloth napkin and sat her cup down with a sharp clank. "Since my troubles don't perk your interests, what's going on in that head of yours?"

Betty dug her nails into the starched white tablecloth. "It must be allergies. Can't keep focus."

"Ummm..." Ginger nodded, her lips pursed in obvious disbelief.

What really had Betty's attention was Winston. A stranger she'd met online a few months ago. She'd been on a website about gardens and landscape since Carlson wanted their home spruced (always something to keep up with the firm's partners). Betty posted a question about appropriate flowers for summer and Winston had replied, "Dahling, whatever your heart desires is what is most appropriate."

Whatever your heart desires. 

No one had ever posed that point of view to Betty. Not once in her twenty-two years had anyone even asked or cared. Not her parents, brother, friends, teachers and certainly not Carlson.

It was always what was expected of her...what was appropriate.

From there they began a private dialogue online. Once a week soon became once a day, which increased to as long and as often as possible without getting caught.

"More tea, Miss?" the young waiter asked.

Betty exhaled with a slight nod. Why couldn't her online life spill into her reality?

"Please tell me you've gone shopping for Friday's dinner," Ginger said. She waved her hand over her cup, signaling the waiter she'd had enough.

"Friday?" Betty raised her brow. With all her time on the computer, she'd lost track of her obligations. Just the other day Carlson had raged about her forgetting to pick up his dry cleaning.

Ginger rolled her eyes. "At the Peterson's."

Betty's hand flew over her gaping mouth. Crap. She'd forgotten. And it was duty to get a gift, get herself properly ready - hair, nails, make-up, and Carlson's suit.

Ginger shook her head. "I don't know how Carlson deals with you."

"Excuse me ladies--"

"Just the check," Ginger said without looking.

"I thank you kindly for thinking me so young, but it has been quite some time since I hadn't worn my age."

Wide-eyes, Ginger looked up. The handsome stranger tipped his hat, briefly exposing thick salt-n-pepper hair. His wide smile lingered on Betty. Her stomach flipped.

"Would you do me the honor?" He held out his hand to Betty.

Ginger's frightened gaze flung from the stranger, to Betty, to the stranger's open hand.

A spark tickled Betty's gut. Her whole life had been conducted by others. From what she ate, said, wore and thought.

"Whatever your heart desires," the stranger said.

A grin crept across Betty's thin lips. She placed her hand in his. Ginger's jaw dropped. He pulled Betty to her feet.

"What are you doing?" Ginger hissed.

"What my heart desires," Betty said. "Finally living my life, my way."

********************

Later that evening, Carlson received a visit from the local police.

"Chuck, what brings you by?" Carlson said.

Chuck's face drains of color. "Betty."

Carlson furrows his brow.

"The plane she was on---

"Plane? Betty wasn't on any plane."