Woman's
Intuition
by Phil Temples
"How did
you know?" asked the man.
The woman
pondered the question for a moment. She smoothed
the fabric of her exquisite skirted suit then she
brushed back her long, braided hair before
replying.
"Woman's
intuition."
The woman had
followed him back to his hotel room. When he
answered the door, she simply walked right in
uninvited. He nearly fainted. He knew that she
knew. What he didn't know was—how?
"Come on,"
he said. "Surely it was more than that. Was
it something I did? Something I said?"
"No.
Honestly, I just had a hunch. Now, of course, I've
confirmed it with my own eyes."
"Are you
going to tell?" the man snapped, immediately.
There was a hint of desperation in his voice.
"That
depends on you," the woman whispered.
The man looked
at her for a moment. He was a shrewd politician
and businessman. He studied her face, looking for
some clue, some bargaining chip—some sort of
leverage. Damn. What does this woman want from me?
"You know
who I am, right?"
"Yes,"
she replied, simply.
"You know
that this could ruin me."
"Yes."
A moment of
silence passed. The man felt like drumming his
fingernails on the desk. This woman was beginning
to annoy him. And he was beginning to sweat
profusely. He wanted this to end, but she held
the cards. She knew it. And he knew that she knew
it.
Finally, after
a seemingly interminable silence, she spoke.
"You know what I want," she said,
simply.
"No, I
have no idea what you want. Unlike you, I don't
possess a woman's intuition."
The woman
found this last remark amusing. She controlled
her urge to laugh. Instead, she replied, almost
to herself, "You're telling me the truth."
"You
honestly have no idea?" The woman
asked the question with a hint of incredulity.
"No,
Goddamit! ... No. I don't. You wanna save us both
a lot of time and trouble and just tell me?
Please?
The woman
looked at him hard. His eyes were begging her for
an answer—for resolution—for closure.
"I want
it," she gestured.
He knew
instantly what she meant. He knew what she wanted.
He was shocked.
"No!" he exclaimed. "You can't
have it!" Then, after a moment the
realization sunk in. She held all the cards. He
knew that she knew it.
"Please?"
he begged, almost in a whisper. "Let me keep
it."
"Uh-uh. I
want it—now." He thought her eyes held
a cruel, sadistic look.
With great
reservation, the man handed over the object in
question. He handed over an immaculate red-and-yellow
silk scarf to the woman. Her eyes grew big as
saucers.
"I tell
ya', Hun'—" the woman said, as she
paused momentarily at the door. She sported a
triumphant smirk on her face.
"—you
might not have a woman's intuition, but you
certainly have awfully good taste in women's
clothes. See ya' around."
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