The sandwich was a welcome treat as I savored the crispness of the lettuce mixed with the sweet tomato and tangy mustard. Since I had lived on orange juice for the past few days, I couldn’t help but feel the lump of bile rise from my stomach as soon as I cracked the seal on the bottle. Quickly closing it, I finished my sandwich greedily wishing there was more when I buried myself under the blanket and drifted off into a quiet dream.
Kem nudged me, waking me to a sight that took away my breath. His hair was trimmed down low on the sides but still had some length on the top, which was tousled up into a coiffed faux hawk. He had the styling of an old nineteen sixties heartthrob, and his spicy aroma and overall look of khaki shorts and white shirt with the top two buttons undone hypnotized my world.
“Hey, beautiful,” he whispered. I slid upright, clearing my throat, finding my voice raspy. “I should be calling you beautiful. You look amazing, Kem. What time is it?”
“A little after one. How are you feeling? I see you didn’t drink your orange juice like my letter instructed.” His smile shined against the spots of sunlight that were peaking through the window.
“Wow, I’ve only been asleep for about an hour. It felt like days.” I began to stretch when Kem held out the lukewarm bottle of orange juice. “Yuck,” I blurted in disgust. “I’m definitely not drinking any more of that sludge. I can’t take the sight of it.” My legs felt like weights when I threw them over the side of the bed to stand. I went into the bathroom to relieve my tightened bladder while Kem talked from the bedroom.
“I checked out one of those culinary schools and I have a meeting scheduled Wednesday when I come back in town.” Oh, he tried to gloss that last bit over, did he?
“Are you flying out soon?” I asked, washing my hands and peering at the dark circles under my eyes.
“Yes, it will be a day trip to tie up some loose ends with the Sutter oil field.”
I plopped next to him onto the bed, sitting at the foot. “I was wondering what was going on with you and work since you haven’t mentioned it lately,” I questioned.
He shrugged, stating, “At this point, I’ve become more of a silent partner. After the divorce, I hated flying off for business so much that I hired enough sharp people that I could trust that I was no longer required to be in fifteen places at once. I know it was too little too late for our marriage, but it was something I wasn’t happy with and needed to change.”
“That’s great that you have a meeting planned in your step to becoming a master chef.” I chuckled, changing the subject. Kem pinched my shoulder, laughing along. “Hey, you never know, there might be a world class five-star chef underneath all these rugged good looks. So how was work?”
With the heavy weight of my workday sitting in the back of my mind, I started to unfold my tale. “Good news, or bad news?” Kem twisted his face. “Good news first I guess.”
“No more drama for me at work.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“No more Sandra. I had to send her home on medical leave due to her doctor’s instructions,” I stated, letting out a huge sigh of relief.
“I’m not going to even broach that reason why, you, her boss had to force her to follow doctor’s orders. What’s the bad news?” he inquired.
“The bad news is I just spent a whole week off from work, my recovery is slow, and I have to spend all next week interviewing assistants to replace Sandra,” I said with the most pitiful pouty face I could muster.
“I see your dilemma, but I’m sure you’ll be able to pull it off quickly. Here’s an idea, how about I order some Chinese takeout and we curl up to a good movie tonight,” Kem suggested.
“That sounds great. Make sure you order me something spicy.”
While Kem was setting up the theater room, I changed into my favorite lime-green cotton pajamas and matching knee socks. The scent of salty popcorn saturated with butter lifted me up and floated me down the corridor to the viewing room. Kem had the bar set with an ice-filled pitcher of pink lemonade and chilled bottles of water.
Like a greedy monster, I tucked my legs into one of the chairs, begging Kem, “Please. Popcorn now.” Kem shook his head, filling one of the novelty theater bags to the rim with the salty kernels. He then drowned the top layer in the thickest amount of golden melted butter that the paper enclosure could handle. I snatched the bag out of his hand making him recoil like he was in a lion’s den with a steak.
“We have the choice of watching DVDs, or we can chill out to some cheesy reality shows, because that is what the world is made up of these days.”
“I guess we can watch the Real Housewives of something or another to start with. I think a new Law & Order will be on later tonight.” Kem changed the channel and sure enough a reality show was in full effect. He excused himself to change into something more comfortable while I turned more than my full attention to the women on the screen consumed in the glitz and glam of living the fast life without a care in the world while I stuffed the buttery goodness down my eager mouth.
When Kem returned he was completely shirtless, only wearing his shorts, sporting a smooth chest and graffiti-filled flesh. He lifted the armrest that separated the two individual distressed leather seats making them one loveseat. Kem’s body attracted me like a magnetic beacon as I wrapped myself up in him and he fingered the kernels of popcorn that remained in the bag.
After several hours of popping bottles, fashion shows, and catfights, we had our limit of upper echelon cattiness and turned on the news while we waited for our early dinner. Dinner arrived in no time, with Kem setting up a makeshift dinner table for us in the media room. My cashew chicken was calling my name as the rich spices of peppers and onions wafted into my senses. The fresh batch of lemonade added to my dining pleasure as I felt my spirits lifting after several days of being in a fog. Kem ordered beef and broccoli that looked so appealing that I speared one of the crowns of broccoli dripping with thick, brown gravy, stuffing it in my mouth before he could protest. “Slow down, killer, before you set yourself back. I don’t want you worse off tomorrow since I’ll be running errands all day.”
“What do you have going on, Mr. Sutter?” I asked popping one of the crispy fried nuggets of sauced chicken in my waiting mouth.
“I received a call that the beach house is finished, so I’ll check out of the hotel and situate everything on the home front for when I return from my trip.” My mood began to drop with the thought of him leaving to return to the beach house. Sensing my somberness, Kem danced his finger down my cheek. “You know I’ll be here just about every day, but like you said, it’s important that we start off fresh. We’re dating remember, not shacking as Nan would put it.”
My forced smile made me feel even more juvenile in the tantrum that I was holding back, feeling that I needed to be near him like he was my life support for some odd reason. In a reassuring tone, he added, “Vic, you know I can’t be without you on a daily basis, so things will be great. Plus you have that new assistant to worry about.”
I turned up my nose at his statement. “Please don’t remind me about it, but you’re right. I don’t know what has come over me with this sense of attachment and neediness. I guess it’s the flu that has gotten me in this physical and emotionally weakened state. As a matter of fact, while you’re out tomorrow, I’ll explore a few web sites to see if I can get a head start on this assistant search. I’m hoping to have someone by Wednesday at the latest.”
“Now that’s a positive way of looking at things. Eat up so we can watch Detective Benson chase down the bad guys in Law & Order.” I returned to my meal wondering what had gotten into me over the past day or so. When did I become so needy? I was doing perfectly fine for almost a year by myself and now I’m getting weepy at the mere mention of his leaving the house. How did this happen and what the hell is going on? I seriously need to kick this flu so I can get a stiff drink of something to get over this emotional influenced moment. Ugh.
The episode of Law & Orde
r tackled the topic of human trafficking keeping us watching until the final credit rolled. I was so spent sitting in the same position for almost a full day, that I asked Kem to give me a piggyback ride back to the bedroom like our days running through the quad. We had so much fun living in our own sickening, sugary-sweet world of college love that I wanted to buy a time machine to transplant us back where we had no worries and quarrels were slim to none.
Given that we both were already in pajamas, I laid on my side while Kem scooted in behind me, placing his elbow and forearm under my pillow as we slept. Kem got up early the next morning, hopping in the shower as I turned on the morning news on the bedroom television. I started up my laptop, watching him cross the room clad in only his boxer briefs, rubbing the plush cranberry-colored towel through his wet mane. Beads of water remained on his back, causing tiny goose bumps to cover his arms as he walked about gathering his slacks and shirt for the day.
The brightness of the computer screen almost blinded me, given that the curtains and blinds had yet to be drawn. Kem stepped into his bright indigo trousers and black leather shoes, sliding a white tank over his moist chest and back before he left the room, presumably to get breakfast going. “Is the same from yesterday okay with you this morning,” he shouted from the kitchen.
I typed in the search engine for Craigslist, answering, “Sure. Eggs, toast, but no orange juice please. More of that lemonade.” To my amazement, the header for assistants and secretaries were full of résumés that had been uploaded just that morning, giving me hope that I would meet my goal of obtaining an assistant before the work week was out. By the time Kem returned with a plate filled with what I had been waiting for, I had my legal pad sheet riddled with numbers, names, and e-mails.
“You’ve been busy in the past few minutes,” he stated, placing the warm plate on the bed and the glass of lemonade on the side table. He put on his white shirt, leaning in to kiss my brow, catching me off guard.
“Wait—aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” I asked, setting my laptop next to the plate and extending my arms for a hug goodbye.
“I ate some toast and oatmeal. Not really in the mood for eggs today.” He tightened his arms around me, placing his lips on the sensitive flesh behind my ear. “I’ll be back this evening, Babygirl. If you need anything, give me a call. Love you.”
“Okay. Love you, too.” I watched him gather his backpack that he used for his professional items, missing him before he even left.
I sat in front of my laptop searching different well-known web sites for potential leads for a few hours, then I compiled a list of the top candidates utilizing their contact information to alert them about the opening. Even though it was nearing noon, I had yet to open the blinds or curtains to let in the natural light, which I typically yearned for. The television glow accompanied by the light of the computer screen were enough for me in that moment. Settling in with the thought that I had sent out a sufficient amount of feelers for the opening, I shut down my computer, releasing myself from the pleasant confines of my bedroom for the first time that day. The clock showed 2:18 p.m. but I could have sworn it was still early in the morning when I began to amble around the enormous house that I tended to ignore.
Kem had ordered a maid many years back to clean the house every other weekday while I was at work and the fresh lemon pine scent that danced out of each beautifully decorated guest room—five in total to be exact—made me glad I kept her employed after the lapse of our marriage. Kem and I always imagined that we would fill at least three of those rooms with nurseries and playrooms for our future children. My hands slid down my torso to my lower abdomen as passing jubilant memories appeared and vanished in seconds. If he only knew. I have to tell him.
I passed through the gym, wondering why I never really used it but instead decided to join a fitness club outside the home. I guess it was the trainer-motivation factor that kept me paying the steadily increasing expense of membership. I walked through the room lined with mirrors and equipment thinking that everything in the room was in mint condition, untouched yet dusted on an almost daily basis. We even had double French doors that led out onto a veranda of sorts with a Jacuzzi that Kem and I only used once when we moved in. We were such a strange couple to not recoup all the benefits of our own home. I guess we’re into the simpler things. The veranda led out to a small grassy patch then the Olympic-sized pool that only Kem swam in. Yes, the not wanting to get my hair wet is a truthful myth.
I walked back into the house not wanting to be out in the skyrocketing temperature of Texas late summer. The only thing left at the end of the one level home was the media room that Kem and I had been frequenting more in the past month than in the six years that we lived in the expansive estate. As I found my way down the halls that held no photos like my grandmother’s home, no childhood creations from the children we had no time to have, only beige paint with a cream accent strip running down the center, I became disheartened. I told Kem that I wasn’t interested in pricey artwork because it would be a waste of money. I was sure that our family milestones would flood our walls after a time resulting in the artwork being put in storage, but this wish was never fulfilled. The large eat-in kitchen with the state-of-the-art appliances was where we typically gathered. Ever since my grandmother taught Kem how to make soul food and garden fresh dishes outside of the French high-class cuisine that he was reared on, I couldn’t keep him out of the kitchen, which in turn left me severely lacking in the culinary department. I sauntered to the fridge in a trance, seeing the contents of a meal that I wanted to create for dinner, because that night would be the night that I would unveil a truth that Kem had not been privy to.
After notifying Kem via text message that I was cooking dinner, I sent out the lethal, “we need to talk,” message. His response was, “Oh wow. Be home by six.” Finding the few hours of time adequate, I started on my task of cooking the first meal of my own creation in months. Lately, my taste buds centered around greasy, buttery, spicy foods, so it didn’t take me long to gather all the ingredients I needed for a great New Orleans-inspired meal. The speakers on my docking station for my iPhone were filled with a playlist shuffle of alternative, soft rock, and soul, with me taking a further interest in the latter after my night of exotic entertainment in Houston.
An hour before his arrival time, I took a moment to dial Sandra to check in on her rest. “How’s it going, mother to be?” I asked, stirring the contents of a saucepot.
“I slept all day yesterday and I ordered in pizza today. Sounds like you’re in the kitchen. Don’t tell me you’re cooking,” Sandra blurted to my nonsurprise.
“Yes I’m cooking. I know, put out the bulletin to the masses, Victoria Sutter is actually using her kitchenware,” I stated, laughing.
“If you’re cooking, that means that Kemington must be out.” Considering that she correlated my cooking with the absence of Kem, I didn’t find the relation unusual.
“Ha ha ha. On the contrary, mi Dominicana bonita, I’m cooking for Kem.”
The sounds of her loud sigh made me shake my head. “You know, you two will find a way to get along if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Victoria, considering that I’m trying to sort through my own craziness on the home front, I’ll put my trust in you to know that all is well on your home front. Right?”
I gulped hard before I told Sandra my plans for the night. “Things are progressing nicely in my life over here, but tonight that might change.”
“What do you mean? Are you finally going to kick his ass out?” She began to laugh. “I’m just kidding. But what is the serious tone about?”
“Tonight I’m going to finally tell Kem my secret. I think if we ever have a chance to move forward in our life, he has to know,” I admitted to her.
Sandra paused for a moment. “That’s heavy. He’s going to be pissed.”
“I agree, this will take some time for him to heal, but it must be done,” I muttered, almost to myself.
“I’m going to leave you to it. Let me know if everything turns out well. Hell, this might be the push that I need to sit down and talk with Carlos when he gets back,” she admitted.
“That sounds like an excellent idea, but I support you in whatever path you choose to take. I’ll talk to you later.”
Once I pressed End, I leaned across the countertop deep in thought over the personal mistakes that I had made that were wrongdoings to Kem. He didn’t deserve what I did to him.
I soon finished, setting the breakfast nook for two, lighting candles, while a bottle of Pinot Grigio chilled. I had a few minutes before Kem was due, so I quickly unearthed a wrap dress and stepped into the hottest shower I could tolerate. Closing my eyes for a fleeting moment, I let the relaxing torrents work on my neck and shoulders when the chill of a draft hit my back. Without saying a word, Kem stepped in, flushing his smooth, tanned skin against my back, locking me into his arms. The water wet us both, created the most beautiful mixture of sienna and cream as he ran his hand down my neck taking time to graze his lips over my breasts and down the sides of my abdomen.
Kem whispered in my ear, “Dinner smells great, Babygirl and so does dessert.” He then ran his touch down each hip moving up my inner thigh as his erection became prominent against the small of my back.
Needing to taste him, I faced Kem, bringing his lips to meet mine as I explored the sweet remnants of cinnamon and sugar running from his tongue. Breaking our lock, I asked, “Did you go to Nate’s Café?”
He bit his bottom lip and nodded. “I did bring you something back.” His sly grin curled his lips shaking me to the core, melting all my defenses. I rejoined my lips onto his, running my hands down his body, stopping at the permanent calligraphy that blanketed his ribs. My eyes remained closed when he sucked at my bottom lip, making me smile at the tickle of his teeth against my tenderness. I traced my finger over each letter in the name, “Babygirl,” as he gripped me tighter around the hips, pulling me closer to his throbbing member.
Wronged Desires Page 11