Brooke wore black. And why not? Everyone said it was her best color. The fabric of her suit had just enough Spandex to make it clingy in all the right places. The aperture of her jacket cupped her breasts, which were already lifted upward and out by her Miracle Bra. The slacks presented a very favorable portrait of her ass, a feature she worked on five days a week in the aerobics studio. The jacket emphasized her broad shoulders and trim waist. As a slight contrast, she wore a charcoal turtleneck, and the effect highlighted her pert breasts that much more. She did not wear hose, but instead clothed her feet in strappy black heels just tall enough to give her ass and thighs that alluring lift. She knew exactly what she was doing. She smiled when other men observed her and then locked in eye contact for just a second. They always looked away just when things got interesting. She liked the fact that her looks intimidated most men and, in fact, she knew that the extra attention she paid to her appearance had helped her professionally. But this wasn't a work day. It was a day off with the family. She sighed and slowly sucked on a sprightly merlot, feeling positively giddy as the luxuriously smoky liquid slid down her long, elegant throat.

Brent looked good in his oxford and Dockers. Well, to be more honest, he looked prosperous. A couple months ago he began buying elastic-waited pants. Brooke figured he was about three years overdue for that shift. He wasn't exactly out of shape, but his belly-button resembled the opening to a coal mine. When Brooke dug around in there, she always came up with something. But Brooke had to admit that a little extra weight actually gave Brent the gravitas he'd always been missing. Now that he carried the poundage, he wasn't as hyper as he used to be. He seemed more content with his life, as if all his work finally had paid off. Brooke wondered if he knew something that she didn't. He probably did. After all, he had completely destroyed the semi-stylish effect of his outfit by wearing a pair of deck shoes. Sockless, of course. Brooke tried to talk him out of his choice (she knew she couldn't talk him into socks; even she knew that you never wore socks with deck shoes), but he just brushed her off without a second thought. And his fashion faux pas didn't seem to matter. Brooke noticed a number of women looking at him with more enthusiasm than the young men looked at her.

Justin always looked smashing. He had a little cleft chin (a feature neither of his parents sported) and his teacher told Brooke that the girls were always talking about him and flirting with him. A ladies' man already, even though he was only in the second grade! She smiled and shook her head approvingly at this naughty thought. Justin wore a green Abercrombie and Fitch sweatshirt over an ash Land's End turtleneck. He wore a pair of sharp tan slacks, not unlike his father's but without the elastic. And Brooke made sure he wore socks with his Keds. Adults have a right to make themselves look slightly foolish. Kids do not. Not that Justin had any desire to appear silly. He always knew how to properly present himself and was always a perfect gentleman. Brooke wasn't sure if he was going to be a doctor or a lawyer, but he'd certainly be something more respectable than a software salesman. That's for sure.

Brittany was just precious. There's no other word for the way she looked in her red Gap jumper. Her blond curls bounced effervescently; she was always in motion. Brent called Brittany his "little cheerleader" when he first saw her in the outfit, and that bothered Brooke a bit. After all, that's what he called Brooke whenever she wore the x-rated Carolina cheerleader outfit that he bought her one Christmas before they married. Still, Brooke figured Brent's comment was an innocent one. As innocent as reasonable possible, anyway. She knew that he favored his daughter, even over his wife at times. Indeed, he just sat and watched her, entranced with her every bounce and jump. And the more he watched, the more Brittany performed. Brooke remembered when he looked at her that way, and she missed it.

The game? Oh, who knows? The Garbers left after the second period. Sunday is a school night, after all. And anyway, it doesn't matter who wins or loses. It's how you play the game.

Jon Worley watched the Hurricanes play very badly on Sunday night. When he left the Entertainment and Sports Arena, the Blues led 4-1 with five minutes to go.