To Hell in a Coach Bag

by M. J. Schiller

  Forty-five minutes later, I still occupied the chair. My hanger and nightie were stuffed between my left hip and the side of the chair. The waffle pattern of the seat's material was embossed on my right side. My feet were set wide apart, elbows on my knees, chin resting on my folded hands. I watched as two of the male clerks were relieved by two more male clerks and a third left altogether.

  Hearing some whistling I idly turned my head. That's when I spotted her. A little, old, white-haired lady with a blue suit on and a department store badge pinned to her lapel. Could she be coming to take over a register?

  "Oh, please, oh, please, oh please." I'm hungry, and I need to get out of here. She walked toward the checkout... and stopped to straighten a suit on a rack. I sighed. Then my heart rose. She was walking again. I wrung my hands. Someone blocked my view, and I got out of my chair, diving to the right. She was at the register, behind the kid with the long hair, reaching to tap his shoulder and... yes. He scooted in, and she began to bag the customer's purchases.

  "Oh, man. She's not just there to bag is she?"

  "Excuse me?" A lady was mulling over a clothes rack with robes. They're all the same. Pick a color. I pasted on a fake smile.

  "Sorry. Bluetooth." I tapped the non-existent device in my ear.

  She nodded her head slowly. "Oh. I see." But she kept throwing stares my way.

  The old sales lady bagged another customer as Long Hair rang them up. Geesh. I'm gonna be stuck here all day. I was thinking about giving up and going home when, lo and behold, they switched places. Then Long Hair stuck around to bag a few customers before finally leaving. Now was my chance. I struck out for the register. Right at the last minute, some chick from the linen department cut me off. But no biggie. I shifted my weight from foot to foot as I waited, drumming on the counter until the customer in front of me pointedly looked at my fingers, and then up at me.

  "Oh, sorry." I clutched my nightie with both hands to make them behave, but still practically nudged the girl out of the way as she picked up her bags.

  "Hi," I said breathlessly to the eighty-something woman behind the counter. "I want this."

  "Okay. I can help you with that," she answered pleasantly, ringing in the sale.

  From behind me a voice sounded. Every muscle in my body went tense. "Well, if it isn't Mrs. Shutwilder. Johnny's mom, right?"

  Mrs. McCumpfry! No one had called him Johnny since fifth grade, but that, of course, was when she had him in class.

  I turned my back on the register and moved closer to the English teacher to try to block her view of my purchase.

  "Maxine, right?"

  "Huh? Yes. Maxine. That's me." I sucked in my bottom lip, glancing over my shoulder. The clerk seemed to be bungling the security tag removal. "And you're... Joan?"

  "Jan."

  I leaned back and out of the corner of my mouth directed the sales lady in a low voice. "Just. Put it. In the. Bag."

  Her hands froze pinching the security tag she worked on and she gave me an exaggerated sigh. "That is the plan. As soon as I get this stinkin' security clip off. Hey, Danny. Can you give me a hand with this?" One of her co-workers joined her.

  I turned back to the teacher. "That's right. Jan."

  "You were close," she conceded. "How is Johnny?"

  "Uhh... John? He's okay. He's a big tenth grader now," I reminded her.

  She giggled. "Oh, my. Time does fly." Another cashier joined the other two and I was distracted by his movement for a second. "Doing some early Easter shopping?" And, before I knew what was happening, she took a large step to her left, around me, and in a perfect spot to catch my naughty nightie.

  "Oh, my." One of her hands fluttered to her heart. Were her cheeks flushed? Was she as embarrassed as I was at this point?

  The saleslady combed through a drawer for something. Maybe a crow bar to get the friggin' security tag off. Mrs. McCumfry reached over and picked up my gown. I resisted the urge to slap the thing out of her hands, barely. After all, this was Mrs. McCumpfry. She was the one to comfort Johnny when he had his first nose bleed.

  "Such exquisite detail." She ran her fingers over the bodice, then brought her hand under the skirt fabric. "And sheer. Very naughty." She wagged a finger at me with a smile. "But this color will look divine on you."

  To my absolute horror, she held the scanty thing up to me. And she was making such a big hullaballoo people were glancing over. "Won't this look nice on her boys? Goes so good with her eyes."

  Mortified. Ab-so-lute-ly mortified. One of the kids peeked up, but quickly averted his eyes. Clearly he didn't want to think of someone his mother's age wearing a naughty nightie. The other lad tried to keep a straight face, sort of.

  "Uhh. Yeah. Looks very nice. Ya know what?" He gestured for the gown. "If I could see that for a second? Yep. This is one of the new security tags. You need the black opener for this." He reached behind him in a drawer under another register and drew out what looked like a ratchet wrench. And then, by golly, he cracked that sucker off like he was opening a pop top.

  Where were you five minutes ago when I needed you?

  I finished my transaction, waved goodbye to my gathered sales crew, Mrs. McCumfry, and all of the various customers who were now privy to my love life, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. The cool air on my hot cheeks was truly a blessing. I took a deep breath. "Todd, you better be worth it."

  I finished my stops at the grocery store, loaded all supplies for the night ahead, and zoomed home.

  * * *

  I stood on my toilet, balancing carefully on my high heels. Three other pairs lay on the tile below me, but I was back in the black ones. The first ones I tried on. I turned around, peering over my shoulder in the mirror. The hem barely covered my rump. And then, what to wear under? It should have come with matching panties. Or was I supposed to go nude? Easy access and all that. After scrutinizing myself in the mirror, I decided something was needed so I dug in my underwear drawer for panties similar in color. Nothing came close. I could wear black to match the heels? Geesh. Todd is going to be up here any minute. Black, or quasi-blue? I closed my eyes, threw them in the air, and tried to catch them. I snagged the black pair. Black it is. I could hear Todd coming now. I hopped around on one heel trying to get my foot in the panties but getting the tip caught on the fabric.

  "Max?"

  "Up here," I squeaked, hopping faster. Cause that was really helping. There. It's on. Now what? I sat on the hope trunk at the end of our bed, thinking it was appropriately labeled cause I was sure hopin' right now I was going to get laid. I crossed my legs and leaned back on one hand, trying to stick my chest out and appear coy at the same time.

  I jumped up. No. No. This isn't right.

  "Max? You up there?"

  Yes. Damn it. I just told you that. "Yes," I trilled lovingly. I stuck one heel up on the chest, and then bent over and pretended to mess with the strap. But my tush was hanging out, which I don't think was quite the effect I was going for. Todd's shoes beat a tattoo on the hardwood outside the bedroom door.

  "I'll make an entrance. Yeah." I spun, but twisted back around to scoop up a handful of dirty clothes. I needed to set the stage. Glancing around, I counted at least a half dozen more items strewn about. "Ooh." I stamped my foot and then hurried into the restroom as Todd opened the door.

  "Max? I thought you were in here?"

  "Coming." I opened my arms and dropped my clothes on the floor, then stepped over them to survey my reflection in the mirror. My makeup looked pretty good. I fanned myself.

  "The Blues game had a really great finish. They—"

  "Hold on, I can't hear you." I got my hand wet to pat a stray curl. Putting two fists on the sink counter I leaned forward. "Well, girl. It's go time." I giggled and whirled to grab the door handle, but noticed my perfume bottle. I snatched it and gave myself a quick spray behind the ears and on the wrists, and then gave my cleavage a shot, for good measure. "Coming."

  When I walked out, he was taking hi
s wallet from his pocket and putting it on top of the wardrobe where he kept it for the night.

  "So it went to a shootout. And the Blues sent—" He turned and caught sight of me. "Who-oa-oa. What. Is. That?"

  My lungs filled with air and my heart sang. "Oh, just a little something." I walked over to circle him, trailing my fingers over him as I went, brushing them across his shoulders, and then getting bolder and grabbing his tush. He jumped. "It's my own little Blues wear."

  He laughed brokenly. "I think you might get a little chilly if you wore that on the ice."

  I frowned, but decided to ignore that remark. Stopping in front of him I cocked a hip in what I hoped was a sexy pose, beginning to feel a bit foolish. "You like?"

  "Yeah, I like." He reached around and grabbed a bun in each hand, hauling me toward him. He gave me a kiss, then tweaked my nose. "Let me finish getting ready for bed, and I'll be right back."

  I deflated a little, flopping on the end of the bed. He was going to brush his teeth before ravaging me?

  "What are all these clothes doing in here?"

  I rolled my eyes. "Nothing. I'll get them in the morning."

  He said something, but I couldn't quite hear him. The tap stopped running and I knew I had seconds. I scrambled to the top of the bed. Darn. I wish I'd made this. Straightening the covers the best I could, I crossed my legs at the ankle, leaning against the headboard. What to do with my hands? I laced my fingers and put them behind my head. At the last second, as the door opened, I uncrossed my legs and bent one, leaving the other one straight. I channeled my inner Marilyn. "I've been waiting..."

  He seemed confused, turning to gesture toward the bathroom. "But I didn't take that long...?"

  I frowned. "Come here, you goofball."

  "Oh. Okay." He climbed on the bed, stretching on his side beside me, head in his hand, elbow on the bed. With his other hand he played with the strings that tied the bodice together, trailing his gaze over me. "Why the heels?"

  "Really?" I swung out of the bed and lifted a leg to undo a shoe strap. "To make my legs appear longer, silly."

  "But I know how long your legs are."

  I stared at him for a second, then shook my head and continued messing with the buckle.

  "Wait." He sat. "Let me take them off."

  Okay. Now we're getting somewhere. I slid on the bed next to him. He rubbed my legs and then ran his hands along the length of one to the buckle. He fiddled with it. And fiddled with it.

  "Damn. This sucker is really stuck."

  "I think I put it in the wrong hole." He tried to tug it back more to get more clearance for the prong.

  "Ouch! That's too tight."

  "Oh, sorry." After a few more seconds, he worked it free and the pleather slid through the clasp, allowing life to seep back into my feet.

  "Ohh," I moaned. "That feels better."

  He lay partially across my legs. "You know, Maxi... you don't have to do all this for me. I think you look beautiful just the way you are."

  I squirmed. "I know. It's just... we haven't exactly been beating the flames out of this bed lately."

  He laughed. "I know. I'm sorry. It's this case... I mean, the guy's up for murder. I feel like I have to give it my best. His life is in the balance."

  When he put it that way it made my whole inability to do the deed seem somewhat trivial.

  I sulked as he tried to remove the second shoe. "I know. It's just..."

  He tossed that shoe aside. "Maxi, come here and let me make love to you." He switched out the bedside lamp and spooned me. He slid his hands over my skin, mesmerizing. Along my thighs, over my hip, across my stomach, to take my breasts. He ran them along the curves underneath the bodice, then along my shoulder and arm, making his way to my tush. It was amazing how his touch could both titillate me, and calm me. Whenever he'd get my motor started, he'd back off, giving things time to build. He was a master.

  He started over at my thighs. This time when he came over my hip his hand spanned my side, fingers latching on near my pelvic bone as he yanked me against his body.

  "Mmm..." he murmured in my ear.

  He allowed his hands to roam farther up, to cup and squeeze my breasts then rise over the swell of my bosom and come back down. As he passed over my nipples, he had a way of rolling them and pinching them at the same time that made me bonkers. He worked me into a frenzy. Then he slowed the pace again. I relaxed, savoring the feel of his hands controlling me, playing me, driving me, pampering me... and then they stilled... for several beats. His breathing became more regular. No. This isn't happening. I wriggled my backside against his crotch, and he came back to life, bringing his lips after a moment to that one sweet spot along my neck, near my ear, and I moaned with pleasure. He rolled his tongue over the skin in such an enticing way it sent shimmering waves of anticipation through me.

  "Mmm, Todd. That feels so good."

  No response.

  "Todd?"

  "Huh? What? Oh, sorry."

  I ripped the covers off and jumped out of bed, then reached over to snap on the light.

  He blinked. "Max?" he whined.

  I bent and slid out an insulated bag from under the bed.

  He sat up on one elbow. "What? What is that? What are you doing?"

  "I was hoping to save this for another night, but I brought backup. In case the whole nightie thing didn't do it."

  "I like the nightie. I do. I really do. But—"

  I held up a hand to silence him. "I'm going to have to bring out the big guns." I let the bag and ice block drop dramatically, wincing a little when it hit my toes. In my hands, I held a can. I wiggled my eyebrows. "Whipped cream."

  "Whipped cream? Whoa." He chuckled.

  I climbed back next to him, sitting with my legs crossed under me.

  He peered at me expectantly. "So what do we do with that?"

  Seriously? "You spray it." I handed it to him like it was a nuclear bomb. "Wherever you want to." He nodded, then looked up at me. I sighed. "Then you lick it off."

  He examined the can again, as if he never squirted one. "But won't it be cold?"

  "Yeah. I think that's part of the... you know... thrill."

  "But you don't like getting cold."

  I pulled the nightie over my head, dropping it to the ground, then flopped on the bed, lying flat, and closing my eyes. "I will tonight." I opened one lid. "Come on now. Spray it."

  "Okay."

  I waited, the air from the can produced a hiss, and I tensed, grinning. Nothing. I opened my eyes and stared at him.

  "Won't it get the sheets all sticky?"

  "Probably. But we won't mind." I bounced the bed. "Come on, Todd." I closed my eyes again. Another tiny release of air, and a giggle.

  "I don't know. This feels weird."

  I bolted up, and he had to move quickly to get out of the way. I snatched the can from his hand. "Geesh. You try to do something a little different—"

  He grabbed my arm before I could get away. "Now, wait, Max. You do it."

  "Huh?"

  "Spray it on me."

  I hesitated. "Are you sure?"

  He grinned. "Sure, I'm sure."

  I put a knee on the bed, backing him up so we had more room. He stared at me. "Well, lay down."

  "Oh." He got settled.

  I aimed.

  "Wait. Wait. Maybe we should at least take the comforter off."

  I grunted agreement, and we shifted to get it free. Then he resumed the position. He closed his eyes, and I started laughing. His hands lowered to cover his privates. "What's so funny?"

  "Nothing. It's... like you said. Weird."

  He sat. "See. See. It is weird. Can you imagine telling our grandchildren about this one? 'Well, kids. Then Grandma put the whipped cream on Grandpa's BLEEP.'"

  I snickered. "Come on. Let's be serious."

  "Okay." He stretched out again, but his chest started shaking with laughter. Every time I stopped laughing, he lost it. Then he'd rein it in, and I'd set
us off on another round of laughter.

  "Ahh," I breathed, trying to catch my breath. I wiped tears from my eyes. "I think the sexy's gone right out of this. It's late. Let's go to bed."

  "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure. All that laughing took it out of me."

  I towed the comforter back up, and we got in. I reached over to switch off the lamp. A few seconds later, the bed began to shake as Todd tried to hold in his laughter, which got me going again.

  He finally drifted off to sleep. But not me. And the more I listened to his breathing, the more uptight I became. I kept headphones by the side of the bed, so I thought a little music would sooth me. I adjusted them so the station came in better and caught Lou Graham and Foreigner singing "Urgent." No kidding.

  I didn't need to be reminded about how urgent some couple was, so I changed the station. The Black Crowes sang about being "Hard to Handle." I snapped it off and barely resisted the urge to throw it across the room. I flipped on a side, punching my pillow. Maybe we should have gone to a movie tonight.

  Then again, movie makers weren't any better. What was the standard plot again? Boy meets girl. It was not girl meets boy and tries her best to seduce him and gets turned down. It was boy meets girl. Boy gets girl.

  Only this girl wasn't being "got" at all.

  Chapter 4

  Tucker

  "McCable. You got that last cord?"

  "Huh?" I grinned, amused.

  "Oh," Clay laughed at himself. "What I meant was, do you have that last cable, McCord?"

  "Yeah, I got the cable, man." I smiled and grunted as I hefted the heavy cable over my shoulder, heading back into the tunnel behind Clay. "Shoo! I need a shower."

  "Yeah, no doubt. You goin' out with us?"

  "No. Thanks for the offer, but I'm going to call my kid."

  "You've got a kid?" he said, his eyebrows rising. I had only joined the band on a few occasions and didn't know many of the roadies that well.

  "Two of them, actually. The oldest one is out tonight." I studied his profile, young, maybe twenty-three, twenty-four, compared to my thirty-three. "Do you have any kids, Clay?"