“Smile.”

“I don’t see that happening. Besides, I’ve had 3 consecutive years of foul grimaces. I’m going for the school record.”

The photographer flashed him a tired smile and activated the flash and shutter just as his grimace took on epic proportions of evil.

“Just out of curiosity, mind you, what IS the school record?”

“23 years I think.”

The photographer laughed.

“You’ve got a ways to go. You sure you can be surly for that long?”

The teacher picked up his keys from where he dropped them under the stool.

“Surly isn’t the problem. Getting the sad, pathetic goatee just right so I look like my own evil twin is the hard part. I couldn’t grow plants on a Chia Pet let alone hair on my face.”

“Like Evil Spock or Garth Knight from Knight Rider, right?”

He laughed as he was walking down the stairs.

“EggZACTly. Try not to lose your sanity.”

She giggled again as she changed the film cartridge in preparation for the next group of students already entering the auditorium like a herd of wild, well, teenagers. She watched his butt wiggle once in his jeans and then got back to her camera. As he mounted the steps to exit the auditorium, he turned to look at her once more and then shook his head.

“Wow.”

He was sitting, feet up on the corner of his desk, reading when he saw her walk by his room. He tried to jump up which given his current position was just a recipe for a hernia, but he managed to get out of his chair without any major damage to his abdomen and dash to the doorway to get a glimpse of her shapely skirt-clad backside exiting the door to the school. He half-walked, half-jogged to the doorway and yelled after her.

“Hey!!! I’m smiling now.”

She turned to see him hanging out the door trying not to appear too eager. She laughed and shook her head.

“Naw. It’s no good now. The light’s all wrong. My equipment is all packed up. You’re about to fall flat on your face.”

He had time for a startled WHUH?? before the doorstop slipped loose, and he gracelessly tumbled to the rubber shoe mat. Laughing, he got up and brushed himself off as she walked over to him.

“Are you alright?”

He nodded gravely.

“A couple of years of intensive therapy, and I should at least walk again. I’m not so sure about what else I’ll be capable of.”

She caught the twinkle in his eye in spite of the dour expression on his face.

“I just happen to be a licensed tumble therapist.”

“No kidding. That must have taken you years to master.”

“10 years of blood, sweat, tears, and bloodstained tumbling mats.”

He grimaced and giggled.

“Ewwwww. All I get out of that are images of what COULD have happened to Kerri Strug on that vault.”

She looked at him and shook her head. He saw the look and give her his best doofy smile.

“I’m not gonna ask for a private sitting if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m not into Candid Cameras.”

She laughed and swatted him on the arm.

“Good, I don’t think I can hook a microscope up to my camera setup at home.”

He laughed loudly and got down on one knee.

“Marry me.”

“No.”

“Get engaged to me?”

“Didn’t I already answer that?”

“Shit…Go out on a date then?”

She jerked her hand out of his.

“That I can do. Pick me up here at eight.”

She filled his empty palm with a business card. He pocketed the card.

“My name’s Michael.”

“Mine’s on the card.”

He giggled as she turned around.

“Mistress Vexa. Dominatrix for all your submissive needs.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and did an admirable job of a fake blush.

“Dammit, I gave you the wrong card. I mean, that was a friend’s. I’m just uhhhhhhh holding it for her.”

He laughed again as she turned to jump into her truck. As she drove by him, he yelled.

“Wear something with kneepads. I want to show you my tumbling routine!”


Michael tried once and then again, and finally a third time before the stupid end of the tie sat where it was supposed to under the business end of his tie which was a pale blue covered with S-shield Superman symbols.

“Finally.”

He stood in front of the mirror and tugged the tail of the shirt up a little.

“Hope she likes the Man of Steel.”

He grabbed his keys and wallet and hopped in his car and was waiting outside her house/studio at 7:57 when she waved him in from the front door. He shut the car off and sort of half jogged up the front steps. He peered in through the screen and then opened the door when he heard her yell from somewhere in the house.

“Cmon in. I’ll be out in a minute. You can check out some of my shots in the showroom to the right.”

“’Kay. Don’t forget the kneepads.”

He heard her snicker as he walked into the showroom. The wall was covered in a tasteful display of seascapes and lighthouses with the occasional portrait thrown in. One small picture caught his eye. It was a stream of some kind of pop just falling into a glass. It was so out of genre compared to what else was there that it drew his attention like a magnet. He heard her walk in behind him and turned to see her pinning her left earring on. He indicated the photo with a nod of his head and a raised eyebrow.
She got his gesture and giggled.

“Oh, I was trying to make a living as an ‘artiste’.”

She made the invisible quote marks with her hands.

“I’ve since learned that taking pictures of things I like and things that actually make money is much more conducive to health and happiness.”

“So why-“

“Keep it? To remind me what’s important.”

He nodded and smiled at her.

“You look wowsers. Zowie even.”

She giggled again.

“Well at least your compliments are unusual as well as cryptic.