Other Men's Wives

by Freddie Lee Johnson III

  The phone rings. Like clockwork, I chuckle to myself as I go to answer. “Hello?”

  “I've just landed, and I'm hurrying through the airport to catch a cab,” says Alice.

  “You must be exhausted after traveling between so many continents.”

  “I've actually been visiting with friends in D.C. for the last couple of days, so I'm wide awake and full of energy.”

  “And you're going to need every ounce of it,” I think to myself.

  Alice called Thursday afternoon to give me her arrival details. She didn't mention anything about being in Washington, but no matter. We had a good conversation. By the time it was over, she'd agreed that it made no sense for her to get a room at the Lake Shore Gardens when she could just stay with me in mine. Our exchange was natural, adult, and refreshingly straightforward. We both knew what was going on, and neither of us tried to pretend that nothing would happen.

  “So what room are you in?” Alice asks.

  “I'm in Suite 2701.”

  And there's a reason for that, sweet Alice. Mason's information showed that your lousy husband, a.k.a. my rotten-to-the-core former friend, preferred this suite when he was with my wife. So, just as I did with Harry (he'll be rolling in from Cincinnati any time now. He'll be pumped after seeing Claude. If he wants to stay pumped he'd better wait to open that e-mail until after the banquet), I'll repay Gordon in the same room where he backstabbed me while front-jabbing my wife.

  “My goodness,” says Alice, impressed. “I've heard about those suites at the Lake Shore Gardens. Did you have to take out a loan?”

  I laugh. “I'm winning an award. Why not splurge? And besides …”

  I pause, letting the silence swell until Alice says, “And besides what?”

  “I want this to be a memorable occasion.”

  Her voice vibrates with the energy of expectation. “I've been thinking a lot about this moment.”

  “So have I.”

  She sighs. “You know, Denmark, I've been feeling so good about our meeting. I can't remember when I felt this way. I almost wish that …”

  She lets it hang until I say, “You almost wish that what?”

  She precedes her answer with a soft, delicate laugh. “I'll tell you when I see you.”

  “There's a key waiting for you at the front desk.”

  “My, my, aren't we efficient.”

  “When you get here, just come in.”

  A little while later, I'm on the phone with June again. I glance at the clock and smile. Alice should be here any minute. In the meantime, I'll talk to June, getting her prepped for when I finally show her all the good loving she's been missing.

  “Stop teasing,” she says. “You didn't even give me a second thought.”

  I dump truckloads of sincerity into my voice. “I'm serious, baby. The instant I saw you, my mind went blank. I was in a twilight zone of joy. Every nerve, cell, and molecule in me was ready to obey you.”

  One day soon, while her hoops-shooting husband is out sinking baskets, I'll be scoring with June. When he comes home too tired to tend to her needs, she won't mind, since she'll have already been satisfied by me. That ignorant sucker will be lucky if she wants to come home at all.

  “You're so silly,” she blushingly giggles.

  “There's nothing silly about my feelings for you, or … ”

  “Or what?” she asks, her tone serious, focused, and

  hopeful.

  “How much I want to be with you.”

  She sighs. “I want to be with you too, Denmark.”

  She tells me just how badly and I sit back and smile, wondering which of Cleveland's hotels will be best for her to prove her point.

  Nearly ten minutes have passed since I hung up with June when Alice enters. She finds me sitting in a large, big-cushioned blue chair. I'm dressed only in slippers; tight, stylish crotch-hugging shorts; and a tee shirt that might as well have been painted on over my rippling muscles.

  She closes the door, stops, and looks at me. I stand smoothly and quickly. “Hello, Alice.”

  She smiles. “Hello, Denmark.”

  We spend a moment just looking at and appreciating each other. Alice is heart-stopping lovely. She was already in shape, but she's slimmer, and it's working. Her Horizon Airlines uniform accentuates her smooth curves. Her hair's longer, shining, and styled in elegant simplicity. Her eyes are smoldering with desire. Her legs are toned and slender. Her breasts bulge nicely against the light cloth of her jacket. And her rich but understated perfume almost turns my knees to water.

  “You look radiant,” I say.

  She glances down at my crotch. “And you look delicious.”

  I arch an eyebrow. Alice is starting early. Okay. I'm down with that plan. I glide swiftly across the room, keeping my eyes locked with hers. She drops her purse and kicks aside her small roller-wheeled suitcase. Her eyes flash as I get closer. I'm short steps away, and she opens her arms. I take her into mine, and we kiss. It's so good, so sweet, so tender, and powered by new passions unrestrained. And then we just stand, holding each other. She lays her head on my shoulder. I turn my face into her thick hair and inhale its freshness.

  “I've thought about this forever,” Alice says, holding me tight.

  “I should've been with you all along.”

  She looks up at me. “Do you mean that?”

  I kiss her. “Yes, baby. I do.”

  We hold each other a little longer. Alice pushes her pelvis firmly up against me. My crotch rebel extends a greeting. Alice notices and pushes harder. Our breathing deepens. My mouth is dry and wet all at once. She feels so good, soft, and delicate in my arms.

  “I could stay like this,” she says just above the whisper.

  “And I'd protect you and never let you go.”

  She looks up at me, strokes my cheek, and smiles. “I should take a shower.” She steps back and starts undressing, keeping her gaze fixed with mine. “Are you watching?”

  I swallow the boulder in my throat. “Oh yeah, baby. I'm totally focused.”

  And then she's there, a breathtaking diamond descendant of Africa's rich ebony abundance. “I'll be out shortly,” she says huskily, stepping past me. “And then we can … talk.”

  Twenty minutes later, Alice has finished her shower, and I'm standing behind her, holding her tight as we gaze out the room's huge window at Cleveland's subdued but sublime skyline. She's dressed in one of the hotel's monogrammed bathrobes, and I'm bare-chested, wearing only my stylish shorts and slippers. We've drunk champagne and kissed and hugged a little more. Now we're letting the moment carry us where it will. She leans her head back onto my chest, and I kiss her cheek. She reaches behind and strokes the back of my head. “This is so beautiful,” she says. “It's nice to get reacquainted with this feeling.”

  I pull her into me. “It's my privilege to help you remember,” I whisper.

  Alice turns toward me and pulls my face down to her, and we kiss. Then she steps back and undoes her robe. I slip my hands inside, pull her close, and kiss along her shoulders, her neck, her face, and her lips. Her breathing deepens. I pull the robe down from her shoulders and off her body. She massages my expanding hardness.

  I take her hand and lead her over to the rose-petal-covered bed. She gets in. I pull off my shorts, toss them aside, and join her. Her breasts are delicious, and I linger on each nipple, tasting, licking, and working each one like it's the only one. Alice exhales a deep, soft sigh.

  I kiss down her body along the center of her smooth stomach, moving from left to right, hip to hip, going lower. The sweet fragrance of her precious femininity wafts into my nostrils. I kiss closer to the source, and Alice trembles.

  “How could she not love you?” she whispers. “How could she not?”

  I move back up along her body and kiss her tenderly, our tongues moving slowly over and around each other. I'm painfully hard. I kiss the center of her palm, lick in between and suck each of her fingers, then massage her delicate treasur
e.

  “Denmark!” she calls with soft urgency.

  “I know, baby. I know.”

  I kiss back down her body, lingering near and around her sweet places. She closes her eyes tight and sucks in air through her teeth. I kiss along her inner thighs, down her calves, along her beautiful feet, then back up to her passion. I lift Alice's legs so that they're resting in the joints where my biceps meet my forearms. Then I look deep into her eyes as I slowly, gradually, and tenderly join with her. She gasps, arches her back, then relaxes and enjoys.

  Being with Alice has been the most sensual experience of my life. Everything was so smooth and gentle. We each knew what the other wanted, how much, and in what ways. Egos didn't intrude. I was on top, then she was. I spoke face to face with her luscious, then she spoke face to face with my rebel. We whispered to each other, laughed softly, knew each other, kissed, touched, and rode winds of pleasure until we tumbled into a gentle waterfall. Then we held each other until precious sleep came, our breaths merging into a perfect rhythm.

  I'm just waking up as I lie on my back in the comfortable king-sized bed. I stretch and take a deep breath. Alice's disarming perfume lingers strongly in the sheets and pillows. My wrists feel funny. I look up at them and … what the hell is this?

  FORTY-FIVE

  My wrists are handcuffed to the bed's heavy brass frame. I jerk and pull, but it's no use.

  “I hope they're not too tight,” says Alice.

  I look over and see her sitting calmly in the big-cushioned blue chair. She's fully dressed and has her bags packed beside her.

  “Alice, what's this all about?” I demand to know. “What kind of game is this?”

  She laughs. “Now isn't that ironic? Imagine you—of all people—accusing someone of playing games.”

  I jerk and pull, and grunt and strain against the cuffs. “Okay, Alice. Jokes are jokes, but this isn't funny. Let me go!”

  She sits back and folds her hands into her lap, looking like a portrait of contentment. “If you like this part, watch this.”

  She points the TV remote at the entertainment unit she's moved to the foot of the bed and turns on the television. The screen fills with Gordon moving back and forth through an adoring crowd, randomly interviewing people, joking, laughing, and being at his talk-show-host best.

  He stops abruptly, looks into the camera, and gives his trademark “You're the one!” finger point. “Stay tuned, Cleveland,” he says, smiling brightly. “We'll be right back after the commercial break as we broadcast Getting Down with Cleveland live from the beautiful Lake Shore Gardens Hotel.”

  Alice mutes the sound. “He harassed the network to do this live broadcast until they finally agreed.”

  “Alice! Why …”

  “I know, Denmark. You want to know what this is all about.” She gets up, pushes the chair closer to the bed, sits down, and leans slightly forward, looking straight into my eyes. “I'm going to tell you a story.”

  I pull with all my might against the handcuffs. The left side of the bed groans. Alice calmly reaches inside her purse and pulls out a nine-millimeter pistol. “Be still,” she quietly orders.

  I lie stiffer than a log. She smiles. “That's better. Now listen closely.” She sits back, crosses her legs, and holds the pistol loosely as it rests in her lap. “Once upon a time, there was a fool named Denmark and a woman named Alice. She was married to a lying, cheating son-of-a …”

  She bites her lower lip as her eyes fill with tears and she chokes down a sob. “Alice loved Denmark. It wasn't erotic love, but the kind one has for a true friend. She thought he'd never hurt or deceive her, especially since he knew about all the humiliation she'd endured … ”

  Her expression twists with agony, and she sobs. My head falls back onto the pillow, and my heart sinks. I look up at her. “Alice, please, I'm …”

  “Shut up!” she shouts. She shoves the pistol at me, her arm straight and rigid and her finger tight on the trigger. “Don't apologize. Apologies can't undo the hurt.”

  My mouth freezes shut. I'm drenched in sweat. Alice wipes her nose and eyes with a tissue, sits back, and continues. “Alice wanted Denmark to be the same kind of friend to her that he was to her slime of a husband. But Denmark was loyal to the slime.”

  She looks distractedly at the TV. “Did you know that Gordon's doing a live call-in show today? Anything you want to discuss, just call in and talk to Mr. Glory.”

  “Alice …”

  She springs out of the chair and shoves the pistol into my mouth. “I—told—you—to shut up!”

  I relax every muscle and wilt. Alice smiles devilishly, slowly pulls the pistol from my mouth, and sits back in her chair. “Anyway,” she says, resting the pistol back in her lap, “Alice enjoyed being away from her rotting marriage, and made enough money to hire two private detectives, one to watch her slime husband and the other to watch Denmark's worthless wife.”

  My lips tremble. Alice casually points the pistol. I swallow my words. “Alice had seen Denmark's wife at Cleveland-Hopkins airport with a man who looked to be more than a friend. Alice thought maybe he was her brother or a cousin, but then they hugged and kissed. Denmark's wife was cheating.”

  I scream inwardly. Alice presses on. “The private detective Alice hired proved that Denmark's wife was cheating. Alice felt closer to Denmark, since they were experiencing the same misfortune. She was going to tell him, but she wanted to get more convincing evidence so he'd believe. Poor Denmark loved his wife so much, he'd be hard to persuade.”

  Tears wash down Alice's cheeks. I feel like the lumpy clods falling from a horse's rear end.

  “While Alice was away,” she continues, “her slime husband called and told her about poor Denmark watching his wife with another man on a DVD. Alice wanted to comfort Denmark. But then something strange happened. Denmark called saying he wanted to be Alice's good best friend.”

  Alice pauses and looks at me, her eyes full of accusation and hatred, then moves on with her story, speaking in a shaky voice.

  “Alice was thrilled. But then she started thinking. Denmark had only told Gordon and Harry about the Sapphire Spire restaurant. She guessed that since Denmark had told only those two people about his anniversary plans, maybe Denmark figured that Sierra's lover was one of them.

  “Alice didn't want to believe the worst. But then she and Denmark actually talked. He was more affectionate than ever. Alice grew more suspicious. Maybe Denmark figured that Alice's slime husband had been with Sierra. But what Denmark didn't know was that Alice's slime husband had never been with Sierra. The other private eye proved that Alice's slime husband was definitely cheating, but not with Denmark's wife.”

  She leans slightly forward in the chair. “Denmark wanted to get inside Alice to even things with her slime husband, who'd been a true friend to Denmark after all. Alice was devastated. She couldn't believe that Denmark would use her for revenge, but what else could she think?”

  I stare at the ceiling. Alice picks up the cordless telephone and dials. “Look at the TV,” she orders me.

  I lift my head and obey. Alice says, “I've just dialed the special number Gordon told me to call if I ever needed to get through to him at the station.”

  She turns up the TV's volume as she waits for an answer. While she's waiting, she finishes the story. “Once Alice knew that Denmark was using her, she knew that he was no different than her slime husband. Denmark broke her heart.”

  I look at her and blink my eyes clear. “Alice, I'm sorry.”

  “Alice decided to avenge herself against her slime husband by first screwing his so-called friend Denmark. She'd then avenge herself against Denmark for scheming to use her like a Styrofoam cup.”

  Someone finally answers Alice's call. “Hello,” she says. “This is Alice Wilhite, Gordon's wife.”

  She frowns when she says “wife,” like she's swallowing bile. She verifies who she is, then says, “I'd like to speak with him, please. Oh yes. I figured it would be a nice su
rprise for one of the callers to be his wife.”

  Seconds pass. Gordon's conducting his talk show with ballet precision and excitement. Someone alerts him that he's got a special call. He faces the camera, his face aglow with exuberance. Gordon's happier than I've ever seen him. And I realize something: He's really good at this gig.

  “Well, what do you know, audience,” he booms into his handheld mike. “My wife's on the line.”

  The audience claps and cheers. Alice covers the phone and looks at me. “He told me that there'll be heavy press coverage on this. If all goes well, the network might give him national exposure.” She grins. “It's not going to go well.”

  Gordon stares earnestly into the camera. The many happy faces of the studio audience stare with him. Everyone's having a good time.

  “Alice,” Gordon says into the mike. “Honey, are you there?”

  “Yes, I am. Can you hear me?”

  Gordon gestures to the crowd. They answer with claps and approving hoots. He looks back into the camera. “What a wonderful surprise. Say hello to the audience.”

  Alice gives them a warm greeting. Gordon rouses them to cheer for his beloved wife. “Honey, we're all really happy to hear from you. Where are you?”

  Alice covers the phone and winks at me. “Here we go.” She looks back at the TV and says, “I'm upstairs in Suite 2701 at the Lake Shore Gardens Hotel, where you're broadcasting from.”

  Gordon's momentarily puzzled by Alice's news but answers with a beaming smile. He turns to the audience. “Did you hear that, audience? My wife's in the hotel with us!”

  Claps and cheers. Gordon turns back to the camera. “Well, sweetheart, since you're here, come on down and join me so the audience can see the beautiful woman who for twelve years has made me the happiest man in the world.”

  More claps and cheers. They're louder and more energetic. Everyone loves it that local celebrity Gordon is so affectionate and committed to his wife.