Never Too Late

by Patricia Watters

  But it wasn't Jerry she intended to turn on tonight, she reminded herself, and somehow she'd have to remember that. Taking one last look in the mirror, she pronounced herself desirable in the eyes of Alessandro and headed for the grand salon.

  Jerry was already there. When he saw her coming he walked up to her, clasped her by the elbow to lead her out the room, and said in a curt, dry tone, "What the hell are you trying to do?"

  "If you mean by wearing this dress... the girls said to wear something to please. This dress used to please you enormously," she said. "You said it made you horny."

  "It did once," Jerry said. "Now it makes you look like a middle-aged hooker."

  "At least I don't wax my chest!" Andrea snapped. "Of course I don't know what you might have waxed below your waist, but I can always ask Val if I get curious."

  "That coming from a woman who had liposuction done on her thighs is ironic," Jerry said, as he led her out the room.

  Andrea looked at Jerry with a start. She'd had it done over a month before in an effort to feel good about herself again. But things had been so bad lately the occasion to show off her legs had not come up. Other than the episode in the shower, she hadn't shown Jerry anything in months. Fun-filled sex was history. For the past two years it had been something just to get through.

  "How did you know about that?" she asked. "Have you been following me around and spying on where I go?"

  "I pay the bills on line, remember?" Jerry grumbled. "What's coming next? A $10,000 face lift, maybe a pair of $15,000 silicone implants."

  "Well, no," Andrea said, "I'm satisfied with my face. And what I have here," she said, covering her breasts with her hands, drawing his eyes down, ''is enough to fill a man’s hands to overflowing, if you remember." Seeing his jaws clench, she gave him a furtive smile, and added, "I'm surprised you noticed my legs."

  "How could I not, with your shorts sucked halfway up your butt?" Jerry retorted.

  "I was sitting on the exercycle," Andrea said, in reference to her wearing shorts. "You could not possibly have seen my butt!"

  "The moment you saw your Italian stud on deck you sprinted off the machine," Jerry said. "Your butt was definitely showing. But you knew it when you wore skin-tight shorts that would show off your liposuctioned thighs to your Italian lover."

  Ignoring the dig, Andrea gave Jerry a rueful smile, and said, "If I'm not mistaken, sugar pie, I'd swear you're jealous."

  Jerry gave a short snort. "If I were jealous, sweetheart, it wouldn't be over an Italian gigolo who'll drop you like a hot potato as soon as he's through taking you for all you're worth. And if he doesn't get enough out of the divorce settlement you'll be getting from me, he can dip into the Ellison fortune. It's a much deeper pocket."

  Andrea snatched her elbow from Jerry's grip and folded her arms across her midriff, then realizing it pushed her breasts higher out of the dress, unfolded them again. "You can't stand it that Alessandro's a decent man who's attracted to me," she said. "I told him about us today and he was very understanding."

  Jerry let out a little grunt of derision. "I'll just bet he was."

  "Look, we agreed to call a truce for today," Andrea said. "Can't you at least try to be courteous? I did give you the best years of my life. You can't deny that."

  For a few moments Jerry said nothing, then he sucked in a long slow breath, and said while exhaling, "You're right. For the girls I'd do about anything."

  As they rode in the horse-drawn buggy that had been waiting for them at the docks, compliments of the girls, Andrea could feel Jerry's eyes returning to where the dress revealed a deep cleavage and a sizeable amount of flesh. She also knew the swell of her breasts were bouncing and jiggling as the buggy traversed the bumpy road.

  Jerry confirmed that by saying, "A middle-aged woman displaying her goods doesn't suit you. Besides, that dress is out of style."

  Andrea wondered about that. The dress was at least eight years old, if not older... several years out of style. She'd brought it on the cruise to rankle Jerry. And it did. But now she felt an urge to tug on the top and pull it up to her chin. "If it bothers you, look the other way." He did, and for some reason that disturbed Andrea more than if he'd been staring with disdain.

  "Where are we going?" Jerry asked, in a curt voice.

  "The fax said to some kind of zoological garden," Andrea replied, "though I don’t know why the girls planned that for us. Going to a zoo isn't exactly a romantic hideaway."

  "Maybe they're psychic," Jerry said. "Figured we'd feel at home in a zoo."

  "I thought we agreed to cut the snide remarks."

  Jerry let out a little grunt of disgust. "Our biggest mistake was going on the damn cruise in the first place. We should have come clean with the girls and let them get their money back. If we had, we wouldn't be on the cruise from hell."

  "You said, when we were at dinner the other night, that you were enjoying the cruise," Andrea reminded him. "Do I detect a hint of dissatisfaction with your sugar baby? And after all she's done to liven up your sex life."

  "I'm not even going to comment on that," Jerry snapped.

  "No, I'm sure you're not. But I'm glad I came on the cruise," Andrea said. "For the first time in years I feel like a desirable woman."

  "But you look like a middle-aged slut with it all coming out."

  "Tsk, tsk, tsk. There you go again, running down my dress." She let out a little snigger. "But like I told you when we were packing, I'm not wearing the dress for you. But I'm sure it will be appreciated before the night is done."

  "Not until it's in a heap on the floor of your Italian stud's stateroom," Jerry said.

  "We live in hope," Andrea replied, then turned to look out her window.

  A few minutes later they arrived at Ardastra Gardens Zoo, where the buggy driver informed them he'd be returning for them in two hours.

  Following a sign-guided path, and making no attempt to converse, they strolled between lush tropical plants and took in the wide variety of exotic animals. Andrea couldn't help but wonder what this was all about. The girls arranged everything geared for romance, yet here they were at the zoo, looking at parrots and peacocks and black swans and a variety of exotic animals that included lemurs, kinkajous, and capuchin monkeys. It wasn't until Andrea noticed a poster with a line-up of pink flamingos that she realized why they were there.

  "Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "It's the marching flamingos. I read about them in Frommer's. They're trained to march on command." She also realized their daughters, with their father's sense of humor, set this up for Jerry, knowing his antics would make the show that much more fun. And a little later, when a flock of parading flamingos came marching out on command, and in drill formation with long-legged precision, Jerry looked at Andrea and grinned. And the usual steeliness in his eyes softened into little points of pure pleasure.

  It was a smile Andrea hadn't seen since Scott died, the smile that came just before Jerry did something outrageous. If it had been their twentieth anniversary, they would have returned to their stateroom after the flamingo show, where Jerry would have done something wacky like coming out of the bathroom stark naked, but for a pink feather boa looped around his neck, and marching with long-leg precision, head thrusting back-and-forth flamingo-style, butt wiggling with a flamingo swagger, or what he'd perceive as a flamingo swagger. And after his performance, when she would have been curled up on the bed in stitches, he'd strip off her clothes, and with the feather boa in his hand, do it's magic on her, dragging it across sensitive areas, tickling places he knew would drive her crazy, teasing and touching and tasting and giving her everything she wanted...

  Jerry reached out, as if to take her hand, then curled his palm into a fist and propped in on his knee. "It's quite a performance," he said, the lightness of moments before gone. "I'll send the girls a postcard." Not we'll send the girls a postcard, Andrea noticed, because there was no we, although there were moments when she forgot.

  "I'll send them one too," sh
e said, then gave a little wistful sigh.

  The show over, they returned in silence to the buggy. But from the moment it pulled up at Pasquale's Italiane Ristorante, the evening went downhill. Dinner was a tense, drawn-out affair, made more so by the fact that the girls had arranged for them to dine at a cozy Italian restaurant with candlelit tables and roving violinists playing romantic Italian music.

  Everywhere, the Italian theme dominated: show cases with Murano glass, furniture that might have come out of a Tuscan farmhouse, dark-haired waiters who spoke with Italian accents, as if Alessandro Cavallaro were everywhere to remind her, and Jerry, where she'd be going after they returned to the ship. By the time the lemon-grass-poached lobster salad, and treuette pasta with seafood, and grouper with tomato-caper sauce arrived, Andrea's stomach was so queasy, and her throat so dry, she couldn't get it down.

  Jerry picked up on that, and commented, "You've barely touched your dinner."

  "I'm not hungry," Andrea said, dabbing at the groper with the caper sauce. She wrote it off to nerves, and the hazel eyes that kept focusing on her breasts. Yet, all she saw in those eyes was disdain. There had been a time when having Jerry look at her there made her face flush, along with other physiological changes. He'd get that twinkle in his eye, and the little crooked smile on his lips, and he'd make a comment that would have her feeling like the most desirable woman on earth. And she had been to Jerry back then. She knew without question his eyes had only been for her. He'd never been a man to stray...

  "Well, I'm not hungry either," Jerry said. "We might as well go back to the ship. This whole day's been hell." Andrea couldn't deny that.

  By the time they returned to the ship, where Alessandro would have cocktails waiting for her in his stateroom, the idea of taking a lover had lost its appeal and Andrea didn't know why. Jerry had been a complete ass from the time they left for dinner, they'd barely spoken three words without shooting verbal darts at each other, and the singular moment of pure delight they'd shared when the flamingos came marching out had been so brief, she couldn't visualize the look on Jerry's face now. But maybe her mindset would change when she saw Alessandro, she decided, as she closed herself in her stateroom to freshen up.

  With a drink to settle her nerves, and Alessandro's words of admiration to help her forget the anniversary from hell, she might be ready to shed her inhibitions and let nature take its course.

  Still, the image of Alessandro's lips where only Jerry's had been was troubling...

  A rapid knocking made her jump with a start. She opened the door to find Jerry standing there, eyes cold, face hard. He walked past her while unbuttoning his shirt. "I'm still your husband," he said, "and I have certain conjugal rights I expect you to honor."

  Saying nothing, Andrea closed the door and turned to face him...

  CHAPTER 4

  Jerry wasted no time shrugging out of his shirt and pulling off his trousers and briefs together. There was no question he was aroused. When Andrea made no attempt to undress, he took her roughly by the shoulders and turned her around, and in one quick tug, unzipped her dress and stripped it from her body, leaving her standing only in her pants, since the sundress had a built-in bra. She turned to face him.

  Feeling aroused at the sight of him, but too furious at the situation to want to act on it, she said, in a caustic tone, "Well, go ahead. Do whatever you want with me. It's your conjugal right."

  When he did nothing, just stood staring at her, she said, with irony, "Am I supposed to do some sexual gymnastics? Or maybe some sort of strip tease?" She let out a little wry chuckle. "There's really not much to strip off though, is there? Then maybe I'm supposed to do something like this—" she cupped her breasts and said in a breathy voice, "Don't these please you, sugar pie." When he still said nothing, she added, "You'll have to help me out here, honey bun. I'm new to the sugar bowl scene."

  Jerry stared at her, eyes yet colder, face yet harder. Which made Andrea even angrier that he'd come to her, demanding she take care of his problem. But when she let her eyes roam down his body she noted that what had been thrusting up a few moments before was losing shape.

  Raising her eyes to his face, she said, "From the looks of it, sugar pie, you need your sugar baby's expertise. You've gone all soft on me—" she mimicked Val. "But then, we older women don't have what it takes, do we? I mean, these are beginning to sag a bit—" she pressed the tips of her index fingers to her breasts. "But for $15,000, I could be as stacked as Val, though I don't know what you do with all the excess, how you contain it all in your hands," she said, humiliated that he'd forced her to stand in front of him, a middle-aged woman past her prime, while he was clearly comparing her to Val.

  Letting out a string of expletives, Jerry snatched his trousers off the floor and said, "I don't know why the hell I thought this would work." He pulled on his briefs, then shoved his legs into his trousers and said, while zipping his fly, "You don't need to worry about me bothering you again. The urge is completely gone." He threw his shirt over his shoulder, then swept open the door and left, pulling the door sharply behind.

  Andrea looked at the closed door, angry with Jerry for demanding she do her duty, and with herself for ridiculing him, when she knew he had to be upset and humiliated about his recent failures as a man, for whatever reason. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of that fact.

  And now he'd go to Val. But the thought of Val getting him primed and ready, then acting on it, bothered Andrea more than she cared to acknowledge. She was tempted to send a message to Alessandro that she was no longer interested then decided she needed a diversion to keep her mind off Jerry. But she wouldn't wear the sundress. Nor would there be a good night kiss. Even the thought of that bothered her.

  Having a romantic fling seemed exciting when she started on the cruise and she couldn't stand the sight of Jerry, but now, the thought of finding herself in bed with a man other than Jerry was like venturing into unfamiliar territory. And the only time she'd done that, during those sheltered years of growing up as the only child of Barbara and Carter Ellison, was when she defied them both and ran off to marry Jerry. Moving from a twenty-two-room mansion overlooking an estuary into a two-room apartment with a view of a concrete playground was definitely venturing into unfamiliar territory.

  After slipping into a pair of designer jeans, a modest knit top, and a plain brown jacket, Andrea left to join Alessandro. Although she had a mindset against letting him do anything physical tonight, with a week left to the cruise there was still time to shed her inhibitions and see what romance in the fast lane would be like. Jerry hadn't wasted time moving into the fast lane. Maybe that's what bothered her most. After twenty-five years of loving him, and bearing his children, and keeping him happy in bed, he had no problem shoving that aside and welcoming another woman in her place. But she couldn't fault Jerry. She'd been turning her back to him and feigning sleep for months.

  Alessandro welcomed her with a light kiss on her forehead. "Ah, querida," he said, taking her hand and drawing her into the room. "You did come as promised. I hoped you would. But when you didn't come as soon as you returned to the ship, I wondered if you'd had second thoughts after spending an evening with your husband." He placed a kiss on her palm and another on the flat of her wrist.

  Andrea withdrew her hand, and said, "My husband and I only celebrated our anniversary to please our daughters, but it wasn't a good evening. I was so stressed out by it my stomach was queasy and I could barely get the food down."

  "Then you must be hungry," Alessandro replied, gazing at her with those hooded, bedroom eyes. "I'll send for room service, whatever you want."

  "No, please don't bother," Andrea said, waving a negative hand. "My stomach's still in a knot. I just need to relax." The encounter with Jerry was still fresh, the sight of his well-muscled, fully aroused male body, first ready for her, then turning limp while he stared at her naked body, bothered her even more now than when it happened. The thought that it would take more than a f
ace lift and liposuction and silicone implants, along with daily workouts at the gym, for her to see that old glint of appreciation in Jerry's eyes made her feel even less desirable than before. And maybe that's how it would end with Alessandro. He'd strip off her clothes, and while she waited for him to give her the sexual pleasure Jerry once had, he'd see her sagging breasts and belly with its stretch marks, and he'd fulfill his gentlemanly obligation to satisfy her sexual need then graciously send her on her way...

  "Then you can stretch out on the bed and make yourself comfortable," Alessandro said, "I'll mix a drink that will calm your nerves, and we'll sit on the bed and enjoy a movie, and a little cuddling. You promised me, remember?"

  Andrea laughed lightly, a nervous laugh to release her anxiety with the thought of cuddling with Alessandro. "A drink would be nice," she said, "But maybe we'll wait on the cuddling, if you don't mind. I'm not quite ready for that."

  "Like I said, querida, I don't want to rush you. Just relax."

  Feeling vastly relieved with Alessandro's assurance, Andrea hung her handbag on the back of a chair, lowered herself to the bed, slipped off her shoes, and lounged against the pillows that were propped against the headboard. And Alessandro went over to a wet bar to mix their drinks.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he said, "The cocktail I'm mixing for you is made with banana liqueur, rum, orange and pineapple juice, apricot brandy, and Galliano." After measuring and adding the contents, he gave the mixture a little stir, then handed her the glass.