Newly widowed Joan has her mind in a spin. What to do with his car now that he’s gone and his Harley. Yum. She can ride that baby anytime and the Skeet club he belonged to. Hell, she can shoot skeet just as well as the men. Oh yes. And she had their, uh, her therapy dogs all trained and ready to work. That would take up several days each week.
And so we meet the widow to see what she’s up to.
With high hopes, Joan dressed in Larry’s Harley jacket over his fancy club outfit. His suede jacket fit nicely over her pink cashmere sweater and jeans. Her body had a good shape for an older woman; Larry always said so, the jerk, and best of all, the women never came to the event because they weren’t shooters.
She zoomed into the parking lot causing a commotion right away and she removed Larry’s helmet, shook out her beautiful hair and knew she needed a smaller helmet. James Franklin, the president this year so strong and healthy said, “We were all so sad to lose Larry and of course we will reimburse his yearly dues.
“James, that’s not what I had in mind since I’m an excellent skeet shooter and want to continue.” The tall man nodded, his gray hair combed so smoothly back fell forward: “Joan, we don’t have a rule leaving women out of the club so you are welcome.”
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