“How about a swim?”
“Straight up?”
She laughed. “I never wear a suit in my own pool. Jump in.” In she went, and in I followed. The water was warm and inviting. I floated along the edge as Judith swam slowly, back and forth, up and under. After a few minutes she drifted over, sliding up next to me. I closed my eyes as she ran her hand across my chest and stomach.
“How did you like your rich piece of ass?”
“I liked it very much. And you how did you like your poor piece of ass? ”
“It hit the spot.” I felt her hand land on my cock. “Any interest in another turn of the wheel?”
“Only if we can eat something when we’re done, I haven’t had any food today.”
“I’m sure there’s something in the kitchen. Now, up on the ledge…”
I did what I was told.
I try not to think too much about where I find myself, preferring to let life roll along. Still, the last few days had a certain unreal quality about them. Today was no different. After spending the morning with a black man I didn’t know trying to ply information out of a suspicious transgendered woman I didn’t know, I was watching a beautiful wealthy woman make me a sandwich buck-naked after sex outside by the pool. As I said, she liked being naked. This, she said, was her preferred state, something that Martin detested. I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t miss him should he never return. I couldn’t complain too much, all I had on was my underwear.
“Here you go. I hope you like it.” She placed the two sandwiches on the table and sat down beside me.
“I’m sure I will.” It was a turkey sandwich with lettuce and cranberries, and it was very good.
“Have you ever had lunch with a naked woman before?”
“Not that I can remember. Most of the women I’ve known had body image issues. So wandering around without clothes other than for sex wasn’t their thing.”
“If it bothers you, I can put on a pair of panties.” I looked her up and down. She simply smiled.
“It’s alright by me.” The sandwich was now a memory. “I get the feeling you don’t expect Martin to come waltzing through the door.”
“Why do you say that?”
“He might not like to see you naked with the courier.”
“I could care less what Martin likes. Would you like another sandwich?”
“No, that was plenty. Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”
I got up and collected the plates and glasses. I assumed our day was done. “It was very good.”
She stood by the table staring out towards the pool and the city beyond. “Do you have to leave?”
“No, I don’t have to. I have a couple of hours before I have to get ready.” I felt her move next to me.
“Why don’t you stay a little longer? Our little swim wore me out and a nap sounds nice. What do you say? You can clean up here before you go.”
“It’s very tempting and I’m having a hard time saying no. Why don’t I follow you?” She took my hand and we returned to the cabana. A chaise lounge big enough for two under cover of an awning beckoned.
“We don’t want to get sunburned, now do we?” This from a woman with no tan lines.
“No, we wouldn’t want that.”
We settled in as best we could, being relative strangers. As she nestled beside me, I watched the clouds take their time traversing the sky, listened to the trees shimmy in the breeze, and wondered what the hell I was doing. So far being a patsy had its upside. The barren wastelands of loneliness had opened onto a sea of delightful creatures and sensual pleasures. If this was the end of the line, I saw no reason to complain. Whether this was the penultimate moment all the diffused directionless roaming of the last few years led to, I didn’t know. Maybe Judith had ulterior motives, maybe not. I wasn’t going to press the issue. It was easy, simply to be a convenient passerby in a nice suit with a willingness to say yes. Like I said no reason to complain.
“You’re not much of a talker, Monk.”
“I thought you wanted to nap?”
“Rest, I’m not necessarily sleepy.”
“I see. Then what would you like to talk about?”
“Anything other than business or money, that’s all that Martin cared about.”
“It got you all of this, didn’t it? So, materially, it has its benefits.”
“Yes it does.”
Talk of money and Martin made Judith pull in closer, if that was possible. I continued to be conscious of her breasts pressing against my chest and my wandering hand on her naked hip. I tried to think of something else.
“The fuzz questioned me…”
“The fuzz?”
“Sorry, bad habit. The police questioned me about Martin.”
“Did they? What did you say?”
“I was advised to be honest, so I told them what I know. Do you think he’s disappeared?”
“Would you be shocked if I hope he has?”
“Not particularly, but wouldn’t you be concerned that he’d take the money and run?”
“No. He might be able to take some of it, but the rest requires my acquiescence, and he’s not getting that. I don’t know why Marsyas felt the need to alert the police. Martin has taken off before and he’s always come back.”
“Maybe whatever he saw the other day spooked him?”
“Maybe, Martin certainly has his tics, but I don’t want to talk about Martin, if he’s gone, good riddance. More than likely he’s run off to one of his little whores. They can have him. I want to talk about you, Monk Buttman.”
“What about me?” Once again her hand was caressing my leg.
“What kind of name is Monk Buttman? It’s not particularly common or complimentary.”
“It’s just a name.”
“Really, what was your father’s name?”
“The old man’s name is Moses.”
“No last name?”
“Bohrman.”
My naked companion lay back on the lounge. Life had been good to Judith Delashay, if I held up as well as she had, I’d run around naked too.
“I see. So tell me something about yourself, Monk Buttman. You weren’t always a courier, or whatever your role at A and A is. Have you always been this amicable? Any overt ambitions thwarted? Children? Wives? Girlfriends? Deep dark secrets you’ve hidden in the recesses of your heart?” Her hand took mine and was using the fingers to fondle her breast.
“Why the interest?”
“I’m nosy. Now own up.” She next put my fingers, one by one, in her mouth, slowly sucking on them. It was a little distracting.
“Well, if you must know…”
“I must!” She snickered between fingers.
“…I’ve never been terribly ambitious. Some of that comes from my upbringing on a collective. Ambition was for dictators and slaves of the state in order to propagate and perpetuate the capitalist materialist machine. I promised I would never be a part of that. I have one child, a daughter named Rebekah, named after my mother. She lives back east with her husband, a man named Farrell. I’ve never been legally married, but I was with Rebekah’s mother, Astral, for more than twenty years till we had a falling out over my lack of righteousness before the Lord. I left so she could marry her conservative boyfriend, Judah.
“There was a time when I was very angry but life kind of burned that out of me. As for the name, it came to me when I was a teenager, as sort of a joke, but I kept it for reasons I can’t adequately explain. It is what i
t is, I suppose. I grew up farming, and that’s what I did for years because it was good honest labor and something a man could be proud of, the words of Moses verbatim. I came back to California because I wanted to get away from the past, to be anonymous, to be forgotten. I’m not leading man material. I think that sums things up nicely. And you, what about Judith Delashay?”
Judith Delashay rolled onto her side, back up against me.
“Where to begin. I grew up in Ann Arbor, Michigan, came out here for school. That’s where I met Martin. He and his roommate, a man named Jeremy, had a software business and they came up with this security program that they sold for a lot of money. We got married. I was a party girl for a while when I was young and stupid, probably as a reaction to Martin’s not wanting children and his increasingly odd behavior. Then I became a respectable patron of the arts, which gives me something to do. And for the record, I don’t commonly have sex with any man in a nice suit and an easy smile.”
“If you don’t care for Martin, why not leave or get a divorce?”
The question took away the light in her eyes.
“I don’t have a good or easy answer for that. I should, and at some point I probably will, but for now it’s too complicated and I don’t have the desire to fight with him over it; maybe someday.” Her head found my shoulder and we lay there quietly, her need for answers sated.
I closed my eyes expecting to wake up somewhere else. Didn’t happen.
“You can use Martin’s bathroom to clean up. It would piss him off to find out you used it without his permission.” Judith directed me to the door on the other side of the pool.
Martin’s bathroom was large with a tiled shower, mahogany cabinets, and marble sink. No tub. The towels, Judith informed me, were in the closet. It was there I found it. A computer tablet was partially hidden behind the towels. On it I found pictures, lots of pictures, but, surprisingly, not an access code or password required. I only had to scan a few to get what Martin was into. I put the tablet back.
The shower blasted me from all angles as I tried to figure out the controls. If nothing else, I came out completely clean, no crevice untouched. From his vast collection, I bummed some aftershave and cologne. I was ready for date number two after a quick stop at A and A. Judith met me at the door and escorted me to the front of the house. A long kiss goodbye from the still naked woman, a handful of papers, and I was on my way.
11
I rolled in front of Agnes’s house a little after six.
I worried I might be late as it occurred to me I should bring something. Wine, I can do wine. Then it was time to drop off Judith’s correspondence. The young man at A and A had taken the papers with little more than a grunt and a certain amount of churlishness, as the papers were not contained in the proper envelope. I wondered if the papers were of any importance. It didn’t matter, and it didn’t keep me from whatever was awaiting me inside the comfortable little house Agnes called home. The curt young man had an envelope and I was on my way.
Agnes opened the door and smiled. It clashed with the evident anxiety on the rest of her face. “You look quite handsome, Monk, come in.” It was apparent that she had been cleaning, the house looked immaculate. It made me feel rather important. I handed her the wine.
“And you look very beautiful tonight, Agnes. I like what you’ve done with your hair.” She had pinned her hair back at the sides so it still fell on her shoulders, but was out of her face. I was certain she had trimmed her bangs: they danced just above her eyebrows. The compliment was more than fine words; she did look beautiful. A sparkly white top and lavender skirt accentuated those wonderful curves.
“Thank you, I worked on it all day, just for you.” It was good to see the anxiety fade a little.
“Then I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“Well, let’s not get carried away.” I felt her hand take mine as she drew in close to me. “You smell wonderful, Mr. Buttman.” I leaned in and kissed her. Those lips still tasted good.
“It’s just something I thought I’d try. I’m glad you like it.” I had no idea what it was. It smelled nice, so I put some on. I probably shouldn’t say where. “What would you like to do tonight?”
“I’m making dinner. Then we can talk about where our relationship is going. No pressure.”
“Yeah, sooner or later these things come up, best not to wait. Whatever you’re cooking, it smells good.”
“It’s my friend’s recipe. Not to alarm you, but cooking isn’t one of my strong suits. I was assured I could not screw it up. I have my fingers crossed. Would you like some wine?”
“I would. The guy at the store told me it was good stuff. His words. I can’t think of a better endorsement from a liquor store sommelier than good stuff.”
Agnes laughed. “Have a seat. I’ll get some glasses and the wine opener. I’m not very good with those either. Just so you know.”
The house was a small craftsman built in the early part of the last century. It was the house version of my bungalow, small and efficient. The entry opened to the living room with the dining room off to the right. Behind a wall was the kitchen, which had been remodeled, but not enlarged. Three bedrooms and two baths were down the hall, none of them very spacious. Agnes had more furniture than I did, most of it Mission style. A sofa, loveseat, and chair surrounded a coffee table. Two companion tables adorned the sofa and loveseat, both with a small glass lamp. Agnes, as promised, returned with two wine glasses, an opener, and a smile. She handed them to me.
“If you don’t mind, that way we don’t end up drinking bits of cork.”
“No, we wouldn’t want that.”
She sat beside me on the loveseat and watched as I liberated the cork from the bottle. It was plastic. “Interesting, isn’t it. It’s actually better than cork. Plus, it doesn’t crumble. Have no fear.”
“Maybe, but I still prefer to have someone else do it.” We both took a drink and wondered what we should do next. The dude was right, it was pretty good stuff. A soft kind of quiet pervaded the room as we listened to each other breath.
Agnes cracked first.
“Dinner’s ready if you’re ready. It’s just a crock-pot meal. I hope that’s ok, nothing special. It’s meat and vegetables and MaryAnn’s ingredients. She said just throw it in and let the cooker do its magic. There’s also salad and rolls, if you like.” Her nervousness was back. The confident Agnes from the office seemed to slip in and out of the room. This was the Agnes from the other morning, self-conscious and unsure.
“Then we should eat.”
We took our glasses and discomfort to the dining room. Two places were set with plates, napkins, and silverware. There were candles and a small centerpiece of flowers to compliment the settings. Agnes took the salad out of the fridge and set it on the counter with the dressing, a type of vinaigrette. There were rolls in a basket. With plate in hand I helped myself to the stew in the crock-pot, the salad and the rolls. I could feel her watching as I navigated through the kitchen and our second get together. It was our first real date minus the drunken dancing sex of the other night. There was still time for more of that. I pushed the memory of Judith to the back of wherever my brain stores such things, one step at a time.
We sat down. She watched as I took a bite of the crock-pot stew. MaryAnn knew her stuff. It was good.
“How is it?” Hope springs eternal.
I smiled at Agnes. “It’s very tasty.”
The nervousness lessoned as she took a bite. “It is good. God bless, MaryAnn.”
“You were worried?”
“A little, I’ve never really had to cook. Simon did the cooking. He’s a chef. He and his partner have a restaurant in San Francisco.”
“Simon was your husband?” Agnes’ eyes darkened. I had the feeling Simon would come up often.
“He was the proverbial love of my life. I shouldn’t talk about Simon. MaryAnn told me to avoid bringing him up. Talking about your exes isn’t good when you meet someone new.”
“That depends on whether you see me as a substitute or a fresh start. Joanie told me that. She’s well versed in how to screw up a new relationship by living in the past.”
“Is Joanie one of your exes?”
A kind of nervous laugh came out of me, causing me to choke on the bit of salad I had in my mouth. “No, I was more of a summer fling. We weren’t together long enough for her to be a proper ex. We’re friends. Joanie’s never been married or had a true longtime relationship. She’s one of those women who’s in a perpetual search for her perfect man. She’s been with Mikal now for about a year, which is eons for her, so she’s starting to get nervous because he might actually be the one. Anyway, we talk a lot about love and sex and death, but there’s nothing between us anymore.” I was rambling. The look on her face made me wish I hadn’t brought Joanie into the conversation.
“How’d you meet her?”
“We’re neighbors.” That should help. “My point is you shouldn’t feel you can’t talk about Simon, or anyone else. I’m not that judgmental or skittish. Besides, these things are bound to come up, and it’s good to know how you feel and where you’re coming from.”
“Yeah, I guess that’s true.”
We finished dinner in relative silence.
Where Fools Dare to Tread Page 9