Blue Umbrella

By Tammy A. Branom

The woman smoothed her dress and hiked her breasts to the rim of the V-shaped neckline. She stepped off the curb, opening a blue umbrella.
With a wide smile, she twirled the umbrella as she strolled across the street under the dusk of early evening.  A couple car horns blared, tires squalled, and drivers yelled obscenities at her, but she never took her eyes of off her destination—The Blew Boy porn shop on the opposite side.
It had only taken her one night to figure out that opening a blue umbrella meant women were “open for business” at the Blew Boy.
A black car on the corner vroomed to life and rolled out from a parking spot, cruising toward her.  Her smile broadened.  Going to get one already.
The car slowed to a stop between her and the shop, leaving her standing on the yellow line.  Traffic swerved around them, breezing fuel fumes over her.  Still, she smiled.  A smoky black window motored down and a Chinese man behind the wheel opened his hand to her.  “I like your umbrella.”
She wet her lips and her red lipstick glistened.  The code words.  She didn’t take her eyes off of him as she spun the umbrella faster.
His eyes scanned up and down her curves.  “Get in.”  He nodded toward the passenger door.
As she strutted to the opposite side of the car, she closed the umbrella.  Got a live one here.  But, instead of going to the passenger door, she hopped up on the sidewalk and bent down to peer inside at him, her breasts nearly bursting free.  His eyes automatically followed her cleavage.  That’s right.  You want me, don’t you?  Her face snarled into an evil grin.  Get his adrenaline pumping.  She sucked her middle finger then flipped him off.
The driver slapped the steering wheel, jammed the car in park, and swung open the door.  He sprung from the car, his face red; his brows creased together in a sharp V.  “Why you b—”
A beam of light flashed and he and his shiny black car were gone.
She stood and glanced around.  Cars passed by without so much as slowing.  No one had noticed a thing.  No one ever did.  Not even in full sunlight did anyone ever notice.  She closed her eyes to receive the telepathic confirmation.  “We have received the human.  It shall be prepared.”
She smiled and licked her lips.  Mmmm.  Chinese tonight.
The woman stepped off the curb, opening her blue umbrella.


Tammy Branom lives in Washington State, birthplace of “flying saucers.”  Extraterrestrials told her that she would be a famous writer.
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