Slideshow not set up

click to view the setup video. (this message will disable as soon as a slideshow is set up.)

Little Lady Flask

My little lady Flask.

My little lady Flask.

I watched as Kimberly made her way across the parking area and over to our door. I wasn’t surprised to see her carrying a giant box, the girth of which forced her to crane her neck in order to see where she was going; Kimberly is exceptionally thoughtful, an above-and-beyond type friend, and this was her first time visiting our new home. It wasn’t like her to simply bring “a” housewarming present.

“You didn’t have to,” I said, once Kimberly had set the box on our dining table. There were all sorts of treats in there: spicy pickled green beans, sparkling jasmine tea, a nice bottle of chilled champagne, a bottle of something red and French, and more. “Seriously, this is too much! Thank you! This is ready to go, let’s get it open,” I said, handing the chilled champagne to David.

“I miss being able to look out my window and see you flash me,” I said. An avid gardener, Kimberly could often be found tending the potted plants on her terrace, which I could see clearly from any window of my old place. She typically rewarded my shouts of hello with a mischievous smile and a quick glimpse of her bare chest, a view that would have inspired Klimt to paint another redhead.

At some point between the champagne and the Bordeaux, that familiar look of mischief came over Kimberly’s face and she reached for her purse. “Hang on a second, I need to get my little lady flask, ‘cause I’m a lady.” Her hand disappeared inside her small bag and emerged holding a two-inch-tall, silver flask. She held it up so I could see her engraved initials, and then she unscrewed the dime-sized cap and took the daintiest sip of liquor I’d ever seen. I burst out laughing.

“Give me that!” She handed over the flask so I could take a sip of the whiskey. The itty-bitty nip left a pleasant burn on my lips and tongue. “This is hilarious. What’s it hold, one shot’s worth?”

“It holds enough, because I am a lady,” Kimberly repeated, in a sardonic tone.

“I have to have one,” I said. “Then we can go out to dinner parties or gallery openings and bust our little lady flasks together, take a nip and handle ourselves like ladies.” I giggled at the thought.

Three days later, Kimberly met up with me after work to give me yet another thoughtful gift – my own little lady flask, with a florid “B” engraved in the silver. I held the small container between my thumb and index finger, and smiled.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.


previous next