“What are you smiling at, girl?” Paula asked when Vanessa gave a besotted, goofy grin at the sight of a group of surgeons coming off shift. “You need some medical attention?”
“Why? You know those guys?” Vanessa focused on the present, trying to push back the images that were making her pulse race. She could not help but notice that none of the men wore wedding rings, and all of them were nice looking. She tried a mind trick that had always worked for her before. If she pretended that her heart was pounding due to libido rather than panic, she would gradually calm down. She could not erase the past, but she could have a little fun in the near future. A sexy grin inched over her face.
“Um-hmm. Girl, you have an itch you want a man to scratch tonight. Asking me, Do I know a bunch of surgeons? You know I work in a nursing home all day,” Paula pushed her golden dreds back over her smooth caramel shoulders. On weekdays, she was a formally clad and mannered middle-aged head floor nurse at one of the most posh assisted-living facilities in the area. In her burgundy halter top, behind the bar, she was stunning and ageless with the sort of keen perception the patrons and Vanessa loved. Ever since Paula’s husband died two years ago, Paula had moonlighted on weekends as a bartender, ostensibly to help cover the extra music lessons for her opera singing daughter. Vanessa suspected that bartending appealed at least as much for the opportunities it afforded Paula to speak her mind freely and to matchmake.
“Well, there’s this doctor I’ve been reading about. I guess he has my ganglia all aflutter.”
Paula laughed music. “You start talking ganglia to me, and I know it’s time for me to step in and help you out,” Paula shook her head at Vanessa and sashayed to the group of surgeons.
By the second round, one of the doctors, who introduced himself as Brian, was smoldering at Vanessa nonstop. At closing, he lingered, clearly waiting for her.
“You go on, girl! I’ll help the guys finish up here. Ruben is still in the brewery, and he can walk me to my car,” Paula smiled as she checked the levels of the various supplies and waved Vanessa out.
Back at her apartment, Brian wasted no time. Vanessa was aroused and pushing into the hardness she could feel beneath his scrubs in ten minutes flat. She made a mental note that surgeons were very good with their hands, then tugged him free.
Their nudity was swift and eager. She imagined him in surgery; the efficiency of his movements working quickly toward a mutual goal. They did not waste energy with affection, but worked in concert to release one another, first on the couch, then the table.
When they had finished their encounter at the dining table, Brian whispered, “Mind if I use your shower?”
“Mind if I join you?”
Again his hands and body did not disappoint. Weak kneed after, Vanessa gave him a few minutes alone to clean up.
She was standing at the kitchen sink in an old blue cotton robe, drinking a cup of peppermint tea when he walked out of the bedroom wrapped only in a towel.
“Listen,” he said before she could get any ideas about further romping, “I have really enjoyed our time together, Veronica. But I have to get home to my wife.”
The smile slid off Vanessa’s face as the cup slid out of her hand. It crashed in the sink just as she yelped, “Your wife?!” she covered her face, ashamed.
“Yes, my wife. Whom I love very much. But she’s on pelvic rest with the pregnancy, and I—”
“Wait. No. You’re married?! But you weren’t wearing a ring!”
“You didn’t ask, Veronica.” He was dressing, quickly. Vanessa wondered how often he had played out this scenario with other unsuspecting women.
“Oh, my God. Get out,” Vanessa said, her face burning with disgust and shame. He obliged, leaving quietly with a brief nod as he closed the door behind him.
Vanessa was not okay. She was not the kind of woman to hone in on another woman’s trust. She was not a homewrecker.
“Why do all the men I screw, screw me over?” Vanessa locked the door and went to bed, hot tears stinging her eyes. She lay on her side and noted drowsily that her objective had been attained. She was doped up from her encounter and pulled out of the past. But her heart was a hot mess.
With a past like hers, would she be able to find a way forward with Javier? A memory tickled at the back of her mind. Granny used to say prayer was a way, a road we build for love to walk into our lives. Vanessa might as well try it because clearly the established methods were not working. For the first time in years, she prayed as she fell asleep.
“Okay, God, don’t let Javier be already married.” In place of an “Amen”, Vanessa snored into her pillow.
Chapter Three
Sightings
Percy and Squeak arrived last to Fructus. Squeak blushed and sat down quickly with a coffee, but Percy smiled all around.
“What’s new, ladies?” Percy beamed.
“Nessa’s off sex. Ma has celiac, and you two obviously got laid,” Gabi responded frankly.
Squeak earned her namesake by uttering a high-pitched yelp of surprise. Percy just grinned more broadly. “Why are you off sex, Vanessa? Didn’t Perla give you enough supplies a couple of weeks ago?”
Vanessa nibbled her pastry and pursed her lips thoughtfully from behind her knees, which she had pulled to her chest in the chair. “I came to the hard realization this morning that I am too damn horny for my own good.”
“Don’t say that, mija!” Carla pleaded. She put down the hard, gluten-free cookie she had been trying to dip in her coffee without it falling apart and grasped Vanessa’s arm with a warm hand. “Just because two men do these things to you, does not mean you have the problem.”
“She’s right, you know,” Perla chimed in, nodding sagely. “Female sexuality is naturally pure. Your body is not treacherous for wanting what it wants.”
Vanessa was bone tired and slightly muddy headed after her late night with Brian. “It’s not that, Perla. I mean, I know sex is great. It was great sex. I like that I like sex. But -” she growled in frustration. She could not come up with words to describe her dilemma without reminding herself of the dark thoughts that had pushed her into a casual encounter.
“I think we all get our priorities confused sometimes, especially if we’re stressed out or traumatized somehow.” Vanessa caught Percy’s searching gaze, but Percy looked away and continued as though the remark was general. “Then the sex, even though it might be…proficient, lacks the security needed to really open up,” Percy finished her admission by biting into a Danish. Beside her, Squeak blushed more deeply at the phrase, “open up.”
“Yes,” Vanessa agreed groggily, “like that. I was with Bradley for a year and a half, let him live with me for a year, even though I knew we couldn’t get anywhere and he didn’t respect me. Then last night,” Vanessa paused, working out how much she was comfortable telling about her panic spiral. She decided that she would rather appear foolish than weak. “I let the thought of one doctor’s virtues blind me to the fact that another doctor was an obvious lech.”
“Who’s a doctor?” asked Perla.
“Well, your giant-schlanged man, for one,” Vanessa half smiled, “and Javier. Javier is a doctor. And he’s here in North Carolina.”
“Oye! About that. He’s not called Javier. That’s why I didn’t remember him, hermana,” Gabi picked at a chip in her otherwise perfect manicure, apparently distracted.
“Well, mija? What’s he called, then?!” Carla demanded.
“Huh? Oh. Mani. His name is Javier Emmanuel Torres Segura. Or,” Gabi grinned mischievously and poked Vanessa with her toe, “Doctor Torres. You like playing doctor, Nessa, right?”
“That is beside the point. I clearly cannot keep it in my pants long enough to tell if someone is married or an asshole. That, Percy, is why I am off sex.”
“Tell us about Mani,” Squeak spoke up. “How long have you known him?” she was already halfway across a line of crocodile crochet stitches.
“He comes to the matches sometim
es. For a couple of weeks last fall, right after he started coming, he dated my lucha partner Nucleosa. She’s a lab manager at Duke Hospital, so they met at work.”
“What kind of doctor is he?” Perla asked.
“Something with lungs. The kind who helps little kids with asthma.”
“Damn,” Vanessa muttered. “The guy’s a freaking saint. Here I am doing other women’s husbands and Doctor Javier is over there curing tiny children.”
“Doctor Mani,” Gabi corrected, “and he likes you. He asked me to introduce you next time he has a night off.”
“But he doesn’t even know me. Why would he ask? Wait. Oh my goodness. You did not tell him about that play!”
Gabi smiled, “Maybe I did. But he saw you at work and he still wants to meet you, so he must like what he saw.”
“May I ask what play?” Percy’s eyes twinkled.
“Nessa and I were in this play together where she had to make out with me and some other chicks, then do real belly dance.”
“So what if he knows about the play? It doesn’t hurt for a man to appreciate a lady’s art. You are so creative, Vanessa. Who cares if he knows?”
“Well, Perla,” Vanessa explained groggily, “I just don’t want him to like me only because I kiss girls. Or because I belly dance. Guys always think it’s going to be so sexy, and they get aroused and don’t want you to finish the freaking dance. Then I get frustrated at being groped while I’m trying to shimmy, and it all goes to hate.”
“Are you sure you got laid last night?” Perla asked, clearly taken aback by Vanessa’s surliness.
“Touché,” Vanessa raised her coffee and had a sip.
“Anyways, hermana, I didn’t tell him about the play. I told him about your first love.”
“You mean about the guys I’ve been with, or metaphorically, like history or crochet or sewing or something?”
“No, mija. She means the earth. She told him you love the earth and want to clean it up and lower your footprints,” Carla replied distractedly. She was trying to raise a cookie out of her cup without it crumbling to bits.
“He likes me because I dig in dumpsters? How flattering.”
“Hey, I like you for that, too, you know,” Percy piped up. “It’s not an insult, appreciating someone for their virtuous habits. You take the virtue of temperance to whole new levels. Very few persons have that type of commitment in their lives.”
“Well, except for screwing. She does like to screw a lot.” Squeak did not look up from her yarn. Everyone held her breath. “What? Isn’t that what you said, Percy? Temperance is self-control? And screwing someone lots and lots, that doesn’t exactly indicate…” Squeak’s blush deepened as her own words struck her anew.
Vanessa broke the silence by laughing, “Okay. You got me there. I have a prodigious enjoyment of the horizontal tango, or the vertical tango, as long as there’s nudity. But you can go ahead and sign me up for your temperance league. After getting screwed so many times in a row, I am off sex.”
“Wanna make it interesting?” Gabi asked. “You don’t do anyone—including yourself—for a week, and I won’t tell Dr. Mani why you called him Javier.”
“What? Wait. That’s not fair, Gabi!”
“Yeah, you can’t expect her to stop getting off just because she ain’t doing it with men.” Carla patted Vanessa’s shoulder in solidarity.
“No, I mean, that’s blackmail. You can’t tell him about the scrapbooks.”
“Ay, hermana. I would never do that to you. I got your back. He already asked, anyway. I told him you were an old friend of Mary’s.”
“As if. She’s about as bright as that stupid lamp Bradley used to have in the living room. Its only virtue was not costing much in electricity. She took nice photos, but still. I don’t know if I want him thinking I’m at her level.”
“Oh, honey, don’t you worry about that. This doctor of yours will see right away what we see. You are bright. Your eyes—they have the flash of intelligence,” Perla gestured so broadly that she knocked Carla’s arm, dumping the cookie into a rubble of wet crumbs in the bottom of Carla’s cup.
“Sí, mija. Or the flash of the sex drive. But that won’t hurt him to see, either, no?”
“So, I’m off the hook, then, if I keep it to myself, as it were?” Vanessa looked at Gabi mischievously.
“I guess so. But what has you all hot and bothered now? You ladies saw that, right? She was just now saying no screwing, and now she’s planning to, you know?”
“To tend her personal flower garden? To brush the dew off the lower lawn?” Percy supplied, warming to the subject.
“Exactly. So what’s going on with you, hermana?”
“It’s Doctor Javier. He’s also Dr. Mani. Secret identities turn me on.”
“She’s back!” Perla said.
“So this man you had over last night had a giant schmecky?” Perla asked, just as the door opened.
A gorgeous middle-aged woman with golden hair, a well cut linen jacket, buttery leather boots, and a jewel-toned silk skirt walked in. She smiled at Perla. “Looks as though I arrived just in time!”
“Marian! Ay, cariña, why aren’t you at church?” Carla crossed the room and pecked a kiss on Marian’s mouth.
Marian’s clear aqua eyes glowed as she answered Carla, her eyes and attention locked entirely on the woman she loved. She held Carla’s hand as she answered in a slight, Southern lilt. “The power went out on our side of town. We had to cancel Sunday school and the later service. I wasn’t about to let everyone sit up there in the heat. Not to mention, I wasn’t too fond of the idea of wearing that robe for one minute longer.”
“You’re a preacher?” Percy enquired.
“Yes. United Church of Christ. But don’t let that stop you from that very interesting discussion, Ms. Perla.”
“Oh, Mom, you haven’t met Percy,” Gabi stepped forward, kissed Marian on her cheek, and took her other hand. She gestured with her free arm toward Percy and Squeak. “Mom, this is Percy Lundquist. She’s Squeak’s hot lover, Nessa’s dumpster diving partner, and an ethics teacher. Percy, this is Marian, my Mom. She’s a pastor and the best darn cook in town. She even made Ma like this gluten free crap, which is saying something.”
The women exchanged pleasantries.
“So, what’s this about giant schmeckies, ladies?” Marian poured herself a café con leche and sat next to Carla, their hands entwined.
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Perla smiled.
“His name was Brian. He knew what he was doing. The only turnoff of the evening was the fact that the asshole was married. No wedding ring.”
“When you say he knew what he was doing, how do you mean?” Marian asked, her pastoral presence putting Vanessa at ease even though the topic was so personal.
“I mean, he touched me just right, if you know what I mean. Over and over and over again.” Vanessa smiled at the recollection, but it was an expression of relief rather than happiness. She did not meet the other women’s eyes, fearing that they might notice her dissembling.
“But was there any closeness?” Marian prompted. “Any kissing or compliments?”
“Well, no,” Vanessa’s brows knit. “No kisses. No mouths at all. The only talking we did was instructional unless you count afterwards, when he told me he had to get home to his wife.”
“Did it feel as though something was missing at the time?”
“Not in proficiency. He had the equipment and the skills to use it. But I have to be honest,” she lied, “I wasn’t exactly that interested in him otherwise. I was mostly thinking of Javier and how it would feel to do those things with him.” In fact, she had been interested in him solely because he was available when she was afraid. She had despaired that she deserved nothing better.
Marian nodded and sipped her coffee quietly. The other women chewed and looked thoughtfully from Vanessa to Marian, waiting for a conclusion to the unresolved tension of Vanessa’s reflections. Marian seemed at
ease in the silence, though. Finally Vanessa spoke again.
“I guess that’s why I really need to be off sex for awhile. I did the same thing with Bradley, at the end. We were together, but not connected,” Vanessa looked Marian in the eye. She could be honest about Bradley without unleashing her past. “There was a lot of heat, but it’s like my fire was fueled by something else. I don’t want that kind of disconnect anymore, not now that I’ve met my dream man. The thought of Javier just makes me want him in my core, you know?”
“She fell in love with him from a scrapbook,” Perla explained, nodding sagely, “but she’s going to get to love him in real life now.”
“So, you don’t kiss these guys you’ve been doing? You save that for me, no?” Gabi smiled, dispelling the atmosphere of the confessional.
“For now,” Vanessa said. She thought of how often she had caught herself almost kissing Javier’s photos. “But a girl can hope.”
***
Sunday night ran hot and cold at the brewery. Sometimes there was a huge crowd, and other times only a few regulars. Vanessa had been rooting for the regulars when she left Fructus to go to her shift, even though she could use the tips that crowds generated. What she got was a full house.
“Why are they all here?” she whispered to Paula while they poured pints side by side.
“A birthday party for a photographer who happens to be very talented, very beautiful in drag, and dying of a rare form of cancer.”
Vanessa scanned the crowd of merry makers. “Thus the red clothing and ribbons.”
“Thus,” Paula smiled sadly.
“Has Ruben been in?”
“No; he had some church thing this afternoon.”
“Well, then I guess I’ll go give the speech and see how we can set our birthday boy up.”
Vanessa was giving the handsome, but frail looking, guest of honor a brief overview of the house whiskies when she felt herself being watched. When she turned to go collect a sampler for the head table, she almost ran right into Javier.
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