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Woman's Intuition
by Phil Temples

"How did you know?" asked the man.

The woman pondered the question for a moment. She smoothed the fabric of her exquisite skirted suit then she brushed back her long, braided hair before replying.

"Woman's intuition."

The woman had followed him back to his hotel room. When he answered the door, she simply walked right in uninvited. He nearly fainted. He knew that she knew. What he didn't know was—how?

"Come on," he said. "Surely it was more than that. Was it something I did? Something I said?"

"No. Honestly, I just had a hunch. Now, of course, I've confirmed it with my own eyes."

"Are you going to tell?" the man snapped, immediately. There was a hint of desperation in his voice.

"That depends on you," the woman whispered.

The man looked at her for a moment. He was a shrewd politician and businessman. He studied her face, looking for some clue, some bargaining chip—some sort of leverage. Damn. What does this woman want from me?

"You know who I am, right?"

"Yes," she replied, simply.

"You know that this could ruin me."


A moment of silence passed. The man felt like drumming his fingernails on the desk. This woman was beginning to annoy him. And he was beginning to sweat profusely. He wanted this to end, but she held the cards. She knew it. And he knew that she knew it.

Finally, after a seemingly interminable silence, she spoke. "You know what I want," she said, simply.

"No, I have no idea what you want. Unlike you, I don't possess a woman's intuition."

The woman found this last remark amusing. She controlled her urge to laugh. Instead, she replied, almost to herself, "You're telling me the truth."

"You honestly have no idea?"  The woman asked the question with a hint of incredulity.

"No, Goddamit! ... No. I don't. You wanna save us both a lot of time and trouble and just tell me? Please?

The woman looked at him hard. His eyes were begging her for an answer—for resolution—for closure.

"I want it," she gestured.

He knew instantly what she meant. He knew what she wanted.

He was shocked. "No!" he exclaimed. "You can't have it!" Then, after a moment the realization sunk in. She held all the cards. He knew that she knew it.

"Please?" he begged, almost in a whisper. "Let me keep it."

"Uh-uh. I want it—now." He thought her eyes held a cruel, sadistic look.

With great reservation, the man handed over the object in question. He handed over an immaculate red-and-yellow silk scarf to the woman. Her eyes grew big as saucers.

"I tell ya', Hun'—" the woman said, as she paused momentarily at the door. She sported a triumphant smirk on her face.

"—you might not have a woman's intuition, but you certainly have awfully good taste in women's clothes. See ya' around."