Saturday Night
Saturday Night, Sara K. Fleagle

Leah sighed, her thoughts transcended by the soft whispers and wanting eyes of the previous night. She paused for a moment, frozen-brained, with an armful of clean laundry to be folded. Leah savored the moment, pressing the warm towels close to her body, filling her nostrils with that just-cleaned smell, imagining for a moment that she was close to someone, anyone. She quickly caught herself and immediately stopped what she was doing. It’s sinful, she thought. Mother says that lustful thoughts cause a person to burn in the fiery pit of God’s eternal damnation. Oh well, Leah thought, recalling last night, I’m going to hell anyway, doesn’t really matter now.
Leah resumed her romantic embrace of the towels, caught a glimpse in the mirror, and thought that this would make a good photograph to advertise laundry detergent. She tried out a few different poses and wondered how things as ordinary as towels and laundry detergent could be so sexy. I must have lots of sex appeal, she thought and smiled.
All at once she felt the icy coldness of the towels on her hands. She quickly folded the towels and put them away, then washed and dried the mound of dirty dishes splayed on the countertop. She took a broom to the dirty wooden floors of the small mismatched house, sweeping the dirt and debris onto the front porch and then the yard. Damn chickens, she thought, tossing feed toward the silly creatures her father was so fond of.
Finally finished, Leah retreated to her tiny bedroom and locked the door. She put on her Alanis Morissette CD and turned up the volume. Leah looked into her full-length mirror. It had long had a crack down the length of it, but its image still held true. I need to change. She rummaged through her falling-apart dresser and found a pair of form-fitting boot-cut jeans. Leah quickly unclothed herself, taking a minute to look at her nude figure in the mirror. Not bad, she thought, winking at herself in the mirror. She put on a pair of pink lacy panties (the ones she had to hide from her mother) and a push-up bra (also hidden from her mother). She did a little dance, smiling wickedly, and then wriggled into the jeans, which hugged her maturing figure. Leah put on her favorite black T-shirt and tossed on a hand-me-down worn-out jean jacket. Then she slipped on the wonderful red antique ballet flats that she had found at her grandmother’s house—the shoes that had almost been thrown away. Leah smiled as she looked down as them. Perfect.
Leah then removed a small kit of makeup from her dresser. She never needed much make-up: her skin was flawless and because of its fairness, makeup tended to appear very fake and cakey. Leah applied a quick coat of black mascara to her eyelashes and then a quick swipe of red lipstick to her lips. She powered her nose just a bit to get rid of the shininess. Leah looked in the mirror and was satisfied with her appearance except for her hair. Pale blonde, shoulder-length, thick, and curly, her hair was unruly and hard to manage. God cursed me with these curls. She spritzed some leave-in conditioner over her hair, ran a wide-tooth comb through it, and managed to pull half of it back into a barrette. Wow. First time for everything.
With all of her work completed, Leah took one last look in the mirror. Perfect, she thought, pretty hair, perky boobs, nice ass. Leah smiled at her reflection in the mirror and noticed that there was a smear of red on one of her front teeth. She quickly wiped it off then grabbed her purse and began to dump in the night’s necessities: her small makeup bag, a wallet, a few condoms, hand sanitizer, breath mints, a pair of clean panties, a small body spray, some Jolly Ranchers, and a granola bar.
Leah retrieved her birth control pills from where they were hidden inside a ratty-looking sneaker in her closet. She popped out the pill under “Saturday” and swallowed it with the leftover glass of water from last night that was on her nightstand. Okay, safe for now. She put her birth control pills back in their hiding place, making a mental note that she would be getting her period in a few days.
Leah cracked her window open, then propped it open with a book, just to make sure that it would stay open. As an afterthought, she tossed a key into her purse. She left the house, purse in tow, sashaying hips, and walked up the little dirt path that led from her dilapidated house. It wasn’t long before she came to the highway, and shortly after that she found a ride with a trucker to her destination in a small neighboring town: Teeny’s Bar. Leah thanked the trucker for the ride and he looked at her expectantly as she stepped down out of the truck and waved good-bye. As Leah walked towards Teeny’s, she could hear the music blaring and see people dancing. She smiled and wondered who all was there. Leah took her makeup compact out of her purse and checked her appearance one last time. This will be a good night, she thought, as she stepped inside.