Ukulele

In the morning she came alive. Alive, yes, skipping and singing as soon as Brian had left for work, by nine o'clock finished tidying up, and dancing to the back lawn and across it to the latticework gate and through to the shadowy back porch of the house Brian called a Gothic horror. In the kitchen she heard the twanging of a ukulele. "Rita!" she called. "Sweet Susie! Come in, do you know the tune of Aloha Ohee?" Susie hurried in, found her friend wearing a white-on-red sarong, her body voluptuously swaying through a hip-tossing hula as she strummed a ukulele held at her waist. Her bare breasts rolled and swung, and so did a lei of fresh red and white flowers about her neck. Delighted, Susie clapped her hands, and in that moment knew the key to this house. It was joy, unselfish, undemanding, shared. How unlike the jungle warfare of Brian and Clayton! Susie ran to Rita and gave the ritual kiss on the mouth and in it, her tongue weaving about Rita's almost in hula rhythm. Then Rita laughed and said, "So, my wood-nymph darling, you're back ...»