Oh, babe. “I can’t, Anna. Now that’s the end of it.”
She pondered that for five minutes. “Is something wrong with you... You know... down there?”
Wrong? What was she thinking? Then he got it and burst into laughter. “No. No. No. There’s nothing wrong with me—down there—or anywhere else. Holy smokes.”
Anna reached up and turned on her bed lamp. It shed a dim glow, more of a night light, but it was enough to see Frank’s face. She sat yoga-style on her bed and faced him. “Tell me right now. Have I made a fool of myself?”
He locked his fingers behind his head. “No, you haven’t made a fool of yourself. You’re all the things I said you are: attractive, sexy, intelligent.”
“I don’t turn you on, is that it?”
“If you only knew.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I gave my word of honor.”
“To whom? For What?”
“To my boss, to Helen, to Mr Charles—he’s our travel master. To Miss Lila—all of them. We all know you’re emotionally vulnerable right now. I promised that I wouldn’t take advantage of you.” He watched her, waiting for her reaction. Her eyes were closed. She was as still as a sphinx.
Finally, she spoke.
“I understand everything now. I appreciate everyone’s concern. I really do. I appreciate that you feel honor bound to keep your word, as well.”
“Good. Great. Turn out the light and let’s get some sleep. I’ve got an early morning. I’m meeting Richard at eight.”
Anna did as he asked. She turned out the light. Then she moved quickly between the beds and before Caburn realized, she was straddling his thighs.
“Hey! Whoa!” He put his hands on her waist. She covered them with her own.
“Frank, I didn’t promise anyone that I wouldn’t take advantage of you.” She lifted his hands and put them on the pillow. So, I guess you won’t be able to participate in this. You’ll just have to lay there.”
“Anna—uh uh. Stop. We can’t do this. I—I—didn’t bring any protection.”
That confession surprised her. “Are you saying there’s not one condom in your wallet or in your luggage or on your person?”
“I’m saying it.”
“Because you gave your word?”
“That’s about it.”
“I’m amazed. You are so blessed with character.”
He winced at the sarcasm. “I’m not a saint. I thought we might noodle, if you know what I mean, flirt around and have a good time. However, you know this situation with Nesmith is not over by a long shot. Suppose we got seriously involved? And two months down the road you started having second thoughts?”
“So not bringing condoms was like keeping temptation at bay?”
“Exactly.” He moved his hands from beneath hers, placed them on her waist and tried to move her off his thighs. “Now, be a good girl and go to bed—in your bed.”
“Nope,” she said, pressing down harder on top of him. There absolutely was some activity down there. “I don’t want to be good. I want to be wild and wicked for a change.”
She bent forward and pressed her lips to his left eyelid, then his right, and felt Frank’s entire body shiver. “Moving right along,” she whispered, nibbling his earlobe. She placed feather-light kisses down his neck, across his jaw, moving micro-inch by micro-inch toward his lips. While he was distracted by her mouth she slipped a small foil package between her waist and his palm.
Caburn reached up and turned on the lamp above his bed.
Anna smiled down at him. “Hello.”
“You are a veritable witch.”
“I’m a librarian.”
“A sexy librarian.”
“Clever?”
“Way clever.”
“You’ve decided to allow me ravish you?”
“Only because I’ve never been ravished before. I’m curious to know what it’s like.”
“Here’s how it works. Get naked so I can see you all over.”
“I would, except you’re sitting on mister johnson and he doesn’t want you to move.” Well, he did, but this was the foreplay magazines insisted men needed to engage in to satisfy the woman in his life. This was fun and sensual at the same time. Who knew love and lust could be so entwined? It made you want to laugh and exchange witticisms while the good stuff was happening. It was romance, but it wasn’t syrupy. God knows, he couldn’t stand syrupy.
“Are you going to introduce me?”
“Pretty soon.”
“Is mister johnson a construction engineer? I sense he’s wearing a hard hat.”
“He needs to wear more than a hat.”
“Why don’t let him try on a spectacular new shirt I bought him?”
“Do you think it’ll fit?”
Anna moved her hips back and forth. Their cotton pajamas separated flesh from flesh, but that didn’t matter. It allowed for anticipation, and some serious heat from the friction.
“It’s one size fits all. But, if you must know, I actually I bought a selection.”
Caburn’s hands were on her waist, guiding her movements.
“How many is a selection?”
“Fifteen.”
“Holy smokes! What were you thinking?”
Marathon sex. “Wasteful as it seems, I thought he might be the kind of...wasteful engineer who wore something only once and discarded it.” She leaned forward, brushing her breasts against his chest, and nipping at his lips with her teeth.
It seemed to Anna that the exploration of one another continued for hours, although in fact, it was only minutes before Caburn with a kind of proprietary masculine finesse ‘dressed’ mister johnson and soon after they were doing something maximally intimate.
Everything about their lovemaking was comfortable. She discovered that he was gentle and caring and strong. When their sexual excitement built to its natural crescendo the earth did not spin off its axis, cathedral bells didn’t ring, and neither did her body scream out with uncontrollable passion making her some sort of limp noodle. She enjoyed it, she wanted to do it again, and she said so.
While she was lying in his arms they talked about the perfidy of human nature; how good things and bad things could happen accidentally, and how if one survived the bad things and had the common sense to take advantage of the good things, life could be very pleasant indeed.
Then Caburn complained that his shoulder was aching. Anna gave him a mini-massage, carefully kneading the yellowing bruises. He issued more noises and guttural sounds of pleasure than when they had been involved in the maximally intimate something.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Anna woke to the smell of coffee, the shower running full blast, and tangled sheets. She stretched only to learn every fiber of her body, every connective tissue that held her together had been reduced to a shapeless, stringy mass. She managed to raise herself up on her elbows, but the rest of her refused to cooperate.
Frank came out of the bathroom wearing his boxer shorts and drying his hair. He looked at her and laughed. Her hair was wild, her lips swollen and sometime during the night she’d gotten back into her pajama top—inside out and mismatching the buttons and button holes. Her brow was wrinkled in confusion.
“It’s not funny. We can’t do that ever again. The only part of my body that will move is my big toe.”
“Excuse me? I think there are thirteen shirts to go.”
“One night of sex does not give you bragging rights. I’m talking about us acting like acrobats and high wire walkers. You need to reciprocate a massage.”
He poured her a coffee, tapped in three packets of creamer and waved it under her nose. “Sniff. It’ll get your juices flowing.”
She took the cup and gulped it down. She held out the cup. “Another, please.”
“Tip me a kiss.”
“No. I have morning breath.”
“Morning breath is part of life.” He pressed his lips to hers, but gently.
She sipped her coffee and watched
him dress. Shorts, tucked in white tee, and belt. Wallet tucked into back pocket, watch strapped on; laces double knotted on his tennis shoes. He also wore a smile.
“You’re happy to be going fishing?”
“I’m just generally happy.”
“That’s a side of you I haven’t seen.”
“Sure you have. You just had other things on your mind.”
He went to the room safe, got out her passport and money and put it on the bed beside her. “Spending money for your shopping trip.”
“I have my own spending money.”
“So now you have more. Splurge.”
“Frank. No.”
He put his hands on his hips, getting into frustration mode. “It’s okay to use my body, but not my money?”
“Your body was available. Nicely so.”
His eyebrows shot up. “What? You think I go around just passing out parts of myself? I don’t bed every woman I meet. What’s wrong with your thinking?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re too generous.”
“It would make me happy to know that my woman was buying herself a trinket or two while I’m out with the guys fishing.”
His woman? That sounded wonderful. Moreover, his tone was serious. He meant what he was saying. He was thinking of the future. She was included.
“Can we agree to this? If I see something I really want, I’ll buy it—half your money, half mine.”
Caburn inhaled. Well, Helen had warned him about independent women and he had not listened. “That sounds good. But, next time I expect you to respect me the morning after.”
“That is beyond corny. Go fishing.”
“You be careful. We’re in a foreign country. It’s not like home.”
“Not like home? You mean D.C.? Murder capital of the Eastern Seaboard?”
He rolled his eyes, which reminded him of sunglasses. He grabbed those and then began hunting for the electronic room key. It was on the bedside table. Anna held it up.
“Looking for this?”
“Yes,” He kissed her on the top of her head, on her nose, and then her lips. “We’ll be back around one. Where am I going to find you?”
“Probably—in that pool by the restaurant we had lunch in yesterday—if Cynthia and I are back from shopping.”
“Okay. Don’t talk to strangers.”
“But, that’s all that’s here!”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do.”
“Men come to places like this to hit on single women.”
“Ohhhh—you mean don’t flirt with good-looking guys.”
He looked so worried, she felt a twinge of shame for teasing him. “I’ll just work on my tan, read my book.”
When he had finally gone—he had returned twice to give her another kiss, another ‘be safe’ warning, Anna decided on a cool shower. She face herself in the mirror and yelped. She looked as if she just been swirled out of a tornado! Her eyes were bruised, her lips swollen and her hair looked like an electrified cat. Not to mention her pajamas were inside out and buttoned up like a three-year-old’s. She couldn’t imagine Frank returning twice to kiss what faced her in the mirror. Yet, he had. That was a good sign, wasn’t it?
The bathroom was redolent of his soap and aftershave. She inhaled, looked again at herself in the mirror, and hiked an eyebrow. “I think we broke a record or two,” she said to no one but herself.
What with the heat and salty air it was useless to go for blow-dried hair. She opted instead for a dab of Biosilk Glazing Gel and pinned it up. A brush or two of brown eye shadow and a sweep of rose-colored lipstick completed her makeup. No jewelry—she would be trying it on in shops. The dress she chose for the day was a sleeveless cotton-knit wraparound—brown with white polka dots—and soft, soft, soft. With the addition of a short-sleeved white linen shirt—it would do for dinner at Cambalache, tonight, too.
“Lord have mercy!” Cynthia exclaimed when Anna met her in the courtyard. “Where do you buy your clothes, girl? You look like you just stepped out of a magazine.”
“Second-hand shops—”
“You lie!”
“—In Paris.”
“Knew it. That’s giving me an idea—we could take a group to Europe just to shop second-hand shops—maybe do a walk though at Chanel, Gucci, a few others, and then visit all the flea markets and look for labels.”
“Walk-through is right! The only thing I could afford at Chanel was a box of bath powder. But the other thing,” Anna temporized as they walked to the tram stop, “—is all the women in your group would have to be size a ten or smaller—otherwise you’d have some very unhappy clients.”
“Well—that leaves out my bitchy sister-in-law.”
“Should I laugh?”
“No. That woman is not a laughing matter. But, I’m serious. Theme travel is big bucks these days. Having somebody on the ground who knows the shops and flea markets is a huge plus. We’re gonna keep in touch, okay?”
“I would love another trip to France,” Anna said wistfully. And, she thought: I’m free to go. She wouldn’t have to ask anyone for permission, she wouldn’t have to find someone to look after Clara-Alice. She didn’t own a dog or a cat or a bird. Yes, she had a job—but there were times when she could take leaves and vacations—such as when Congress shut down for summer vacations, winter vacations and long holidays.
At the travel desk in the lobby Cynthia discovered vans were hauling shoppers back and forth to malls every two hours. “I forgot today is Christmas Eve. They’ve laid on some extra trips. We can still take a cab, but this is cheaper.
The van leaves in thirty-five minutes to Kukulcan Plaza. I love that mall. The shops are phenomenal, plus it has a light and sound show.”
“Let’s sign up. I’m good with that.”
They put their names on the list, paid for round trips, and received their tickets and a brochure.
“Now, let’s see the concierge,” Cynthia said. “He can order our taxi for tonight and make our reservations for Cambalache. Taxi at seven-thirty and reservations to dine at eight. Does that sound good to you?”
“I’m good with that. You’re the travel agent.” Anna stood aside while Cynthia, in her travel-agent mode made certain the concierge had all the information written down to include her suite number. She tipped the man and turned back to Anna.
“We have time for a quick breakfast.”
“Coffee, toast and some fresh fruit sounds terrific.”
“I’m washing mine down with mimosas,” said Cynthia. “That’s what I adore about vacations. I can drink enough to get a buzz on and not worry about driving or the girls rolling their eyes, and calling me silly. Plus, it makes the sex better. Oops. Did I offend you?”
Anna laughed. “Not a bit.”
“It takes four beers for Richard to get a buzz, and then he’s wicked. Otherwise it’s the same old, same old.”
“I think Frank’s limit is three,” Anna said, feeling wicked and not one jot of guilt.
They chose a linen-covered table and sat down. Cynthia snickered with impish insouciance. “Aren’t we disgraceful?” she said as a server swooped over to pour coffee.
“Despicable,” Anna said, and followed Cynthia to the self-serve wine bar. Mimosas, indeed. Anna had two.
~~~~
Upon their return from shopping, Cynthia made a beeline for the in-house phone and returned to Anna wearing a wide grin. “The guys aren’t back yet. Let’s have a couple of frozen strawberry margaritas before we haul our loot to our rooms.”
“Cynthia, friendship with you is becoming dangerous.”
“So, drink water. That’s all you deserve anyway for not talking me out of buying that amethyst and stone necklace. I’ve got to figure out a way to show it to Richard and not have him kill me.”
“Wear it to bed.”
“With what?”
Anna made a moue.
“Oh. Ha, ha. You’re one funny girl—to bed—wearing
only a necklace, cellulite and stretch marks. I don’t think so.”
“Well, there’s camouflage.”
“Sure. Blackout curtains—then he won’t see the necklace.”
“There’s another way. You know, in pastry classes we used all kinds of edible paints, silver and gold dust, gels. You just brush on a clear edible gel with a regular paint brush, and paint certain body parts pink or gold then dust the rest of yourself with edible gold dust or any color edible dust—you’re blonde—you could get away with purple dust—match the amethysts.”
“You’ve done this, right?”
“I dusted my shoulders once when I wore a strapless dress in high hopes I’d get nibbled on my neck. But this cute little Dutch girl in our pastry class did herself up for her boyfriend’s birthday. Another student painted a butterfly on her buns and when she did isometrics, the wings moved. She came out very vamp.”
“And the boyfriend?”
Anna took a large sip of her margarita. “Uh—what does one usually do with delectable pastries?”
Cynthia was quiet for a moment. “Where do I get all of these edible goodies?”
“Your local bakery, or off the internet.”
“I think that’s way too much excitement for a three-hundred-forty dollar necklace. I’d end up preggers again. With my luck, it’d be triplets.”
“That’s pretty nice luck,” Anna said, wistful.
“Oops. Did I touch a nerve?”
Anna smiled wanly. “Not really.”
Cynthia put her hand on Anna’s. “Do you need to talk? I’m a good listener.”
Anna looked at her new acquaintance’s bright blue eyes, seeing the empathy and caring. “You know what? I feel like I could tell you anything and everything. Just not now. The truth is I am way out of my comfort zone these days. This is as different a Christmas Eve as I can remember. No Christmas music, no caroling, no snow, no going to midnight services.”
“—Right on!” exclaimed Cynthia. “No advertising to squeeze the last dime out of your pocket, no runny noses, no last minute rushing around, no turkey to stuff, no ton of celery to chop, no napkins to iron, no tree to trim, no presents to wrap, no clanking snow chains, no parking wars at the mall, no waiting in long lines at the checkout, and dare I raise my glass to: No toxic sisters-in-law.”
No Perfect Secret Page 24