It read
To Mildred,
from your not-so-secret admirer . . .
Tony Landry
Mildred read the card ten times. It was unbelievable. In the time he'd been working at Greene Investments, he'd barely acknowledged her. In fact, it seemed to Mildred that he was avoiding her like the plague.
She was sure the flowers were for another Mildred Johnson in the company.
Mildred turned to her computer and with shaky hands began to do a company search. There were exactly three Mildreds in the Greene Investments employee database.
But none with the surname Johnson.
Mildred pressed her hand to her chest. Her heart was beating so fast, she was beginning to feel dizzy.
Rising from her chair, she began to pace from the desk to the window, all the while looking for an explanation as to why he would send her flowers and bumping into the same conclusion: it was a mistake.
Finally, she sat down and picked up the phone and quickly dialed his extension, which she knew by heart.
“Tony Landry, Inactive Accounts—how may I help you?”
Mildred freaked at the sound of his voice and quickly hung up the phone.
“Stop it, Mildred. You're being silly,” she said aloud just as Mr. Henderson stepped into the office.
He gave her a quizzical look and then his eyes fell on the bouquet.
“Well, well, Mildred, what's the occasion?”
Mildred was so flustered, she blurted out, “I'm engaged!”
Mr. Henderson's face bloomed with surprise. “W-what?” he said as his eyes slowly went to her bare ring finger.
“Oh, that's coming soon,” she said, and nervously wiggled her fingers.
Mildred wanted to curl up and die. Why had she said that? How was she allowing her fantasy life to spill into her real life? She was becoming a liar.
“Well, congratulations.” Mr. Henderson came over to her, bent down, and gave her a stiff hug. “I-I didn't even know you were . . . um . . . seeing anyone.”
“Thank you,” Mildred said, keeping her eyes low. “It hasn't been long.”
Mr. Henderson was flabbergasted. He didn't know anybody but a mother could love a face like Mildred's. Then out of nowhere a saying his Jamaican wife often used came to mind:
Every hoe has its sticka-bush.
Which, loosely translated, meant there was someone for everyone.
“Well, congratulations again, and I hope you won't keep the wedding date as much of a secret as you did your beau,” he said before going into his office.
Mildred felt her eyes begin to well with tears. She'd never, ever lied to Mr. Henderson, not even a little white lie, and now she'd gone and told a whopper!
What was wrong with her?
Tony stared down at the Caller ID and smiled when he saw the name.
Mildred Johnson.
He let it ring twice before he answered it. He'd hardly spoken his name before she quickly hung up.
Tony grinned.
She was flustered. Of course she was. She was sitting there at her desk trying to figure just how a dog like her had attracted the affections of a specimen like himself.
Setting the phone back down onto the cradle, he chuckled to himself. This was going to be fun.
CHAPTER
Nineteen
He did what?” Seneca screamed into the phone. “Liar!”
Mildred winced. Seneca could be so cruel sometimes. Wasn't Mildred worthy of flowers?
“I don't believe you. Are you sure they were meant for you? I mean, how many Mildred Johnsons are there in the company, anyway?”
Mildred wasn't going to assist Seneca in further disgracing her by divulging that she had checked because she hadn't believed it either.
“I didn't have to check, Seneca,” she said smugly before hanging up on her friend.
Mildred's heart raced every time she attempted to dial Tony's extension. When five o'clock rolled around she still hadn't mustered up the nerve, so she promised herself that she would call him first thing in the morning.
No, no: better yet she would send him an e-mail, so just in case he responded with “What the hell are you talking about? I didn't send you any damn flowers,” she could reply, “Sorry, my mistake—the e-mail went to the wrong Tony Landry.”
There were in fact two Anthony Landrys in the company.
She had it all worked out in her mind when she pushed the glass door open and stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. She was actually feeling good about her little plan when she looked up and saw Tony leaning against the mailbox, grinning at her.
Mildred was in so much shock that she dropped the glass vase of flowers she was clutching.
Pedestrians jumped out of the way, but at least two people were splattered. “Stupid bitch,” one woman spat at her as she shook her damp white linen skirt.
“Hey, hey! It was an accident!” Tony yelled at the woman, jumping to Mildred's defense.
Mildred was standing stock-still, her expression like that of a deer seconds from being mowed down by a tractor-trailer.
Tony approached her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and asked, “Are you okay?”
Mildred flinched at his touch. For weeks she'd imagined him touching her, and now it was actually happening!
“Mildred?” Tony said as he waved his hand in front of her face.
Mildred blinked rapidly and then looked Tony square in the eyes. “Um, I'm sorry,” she said pitifully, and then her eyes fell to the mess of petals, stems, and glass that lay at her feet.
“It's okay. They were just flowers. I'll send you some more tomorrow,” he said as he took her hand in his. “For now, would you come to dinner with me?”
She had to be dreaming. This couldn't be real.
“Mildred?” Tony gave her hand a little jerk. “I meant dinner tonight, not next year.” He laughed.
Mildred swallowed hard. “Tony, I'm not really dressed for dinner . . . I—”
“I insist,” Tony said, taking a few steps away from her. “And I think you look lovely,” he said, his eyes rolling over her.
It wasn't anyplace fancy—at least, not in Tony's opinion—but from the look on Mildred's face, she was more than impressed.
Tony pulled the chair out for her and ordered her a glass of wine even though Mildred kept insisting that she didn't drink because alcohol went straight to her head.
That's exactly what Tony wanted.
It might help her bad looks, he thought to himself, and then remembered that that only worked on the one looking at the bad-looking person and so proceeded to order himself a double vodka tonic, easy on the tonic.
“So tell me about yourself,” he said, looking deep into her bifocal-covered eyes.
Mildred daintily sipped her wine. She was so nervous, her hands were shaking. “Well,” she began in a tiny voice, “I was born in Hackensack, New Jersey . . .”
An hour and another glass of wine later and halfway through her entrée of spaghetti and meatballs, she was beginning to feel a little bit at ease. Tony was witty and seemed from his penetrating questions to really be interested in her. And she liked the way he was so attentive: at one point he'd used his napkin to wipe away a drop of spaghetti sauce from her chin. That move had startled her and she found herself blushing, forgetting completely what she'd been in the midst of saying.
After dinner as they stood on the sidewalk, she swayed happily, her head swimming from the wine, as Tony hailed a cab.
“Your carriage awaits, madam,” Tony said as he opened the cab door and bowed.
Mildred smiled at him as she climbed in.
“Call me when you get home so that I'll know you've arrived safely, okay?” he said and winked.
Mildred nodded her head and squirmed in the leather seat, giddy.
“Um, are you sure you don't want to share the cab?” she asked coyly.
“There's nothing I'd like more, but I need to get back to the office.”
Mildred beamed.
He was such a hard worker.
“Are we going or what?” the cabdriver barked from the front seat.
“Hold your horses, man. Let me say a proper good night to my girl.”
My girl!!! Mildred screamed inside her head.
Tony leaned in and Mildred froze. Was he actually going to kiss her? Her mouth went dry, and the closer his lips came to her face, the harder her heart thumped. When his lips finally made contact with her cheek, she thought she was going to faint.
She was home before she'd regained her full senses and realized that Tony hadn't given the cabdriver any money. Not that it bothered her. She dreamily handed over the $22.50 and floated up to her apartment.
After lying down in bed and screaming with joy into her pillow for five whole minutes, she picked up the phone to call Seneca and rub every little detail of the evening in her face. Then she thought about what Tony had said: Make sure you call me when you get home.
He wanted her to call him but he hadn't given her his telephone number. A minor error on both of their parts—she hadn't given hers to him. No big deal. She dialed the office. He did say he was going back to work.
Mildred hummed happily as she listened to the phone ring. When Tony's recorded voice answered and advised that he was away from his desk and to please leave a message, Mildred told herself that he was either on the other line or in the bathroom.
She called five more times, and on the sixth try, a little disappointed that she hadn't reached him, she finally left a message.
“H-hello, Tony, I'm just calling to let you know I arrived home safely. Um, so I had a really good time, and, well, um . . . bye.”
Just as she was about to hang up, she pulled the phone to her ear and hurriedly rattled off her home number.
When she hung up, she made a mental note to buy a cell phone. She didn't have one because she'd never had a reason to. But now that she and Tony were together, she wanted him to be able to reach her whenever he needed to.
Mildred giggled at the word together. She had never been “together” with anyone in her life!
Mildred fell back into the bed and screamed into the pillow for another ten minutes. She'd never been happier.
Then she lay there staring at the clock, waiting for Tony to call and tell her he'd received her message.
She was still waiting when her alarm went off at six o'clock the following morning.
CHAPTER
Twenty
So what's going on? You making any headway?”
Zebby had called a meeting at Gray's Papaya.
Tony nodded his head before biting down into his chili dog. “Yeah, she's falling and fast. I sent her flowers, which by the way cost me an arm and a leg, and then I took her out to dinner. And you know what?”
“What?”
“The next day I got to work and she had sent me flowers!”
Zebby laughed as he wiped the mustard from his bushy mustache.
“It's not funny, man. I think the chick is a little psycho.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I don't know, man. I'm just getting this feeling, you know?”
“A feeling?”
“Yeah, man,” Tony started, and then dropped his voice an octave and leaned in closer to Zebby. “When a bitch ain't right, my balls start to tingle.”
Zebby's eyes widened. “You're fucking with me, right?”
“Nah, man, I'm serious, and this chick got them tingling like a motherfucker!”
Zebby put his hand over his mouth and let out a long, hearty laugh.
“Stop laughing, man—it ain't funny.”
“Yes it is!” Zebby said, and slammed his hand down on the counter. “Okay, so you got tingling balls. Maybe she's turning you on?”
Tony made a face. “Zebby,” he said, his face now serene, “do I look like a bulldog?”
“What? No.”
“Do I look like someone's mother?”
“Well, a motherfu—”
“I said, do I look like someone's mother?”
“Nah, why?”
“ 'Cause, man, only a mother or a bulldog could love a face like hers!”
“C'mon, man—it's like that?”
“Bow-fucking-wow.”
“Damn.”
“Yeah. Maybe you should be the one romancing her and not me.”
“Nah, man, you already in. When are you going to nail her?”
Tony shivered in disgust. “Are you deaf? Did you not hear me say she was a dog? I ain't screwing her!”
Zebby laughed. “I think this is a first. Tony Landry actually turning down pussy!”
“Well, there's a first time for everything.”
“So there is, my friend, so there is.”
Zebby drained the rest of his Pepsi from the bottle, belched, and then said, “How much longer before you get the password?”
“I don't know, man. It's only been three days. Give me at least a week.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-one
It had been a grueling three weeks.
He'd been putting in a lot of overtime at the office simply because he needed time to research the accounts that he and Zebby planned on raiding.
Habib Habib was impressed with Tony's dedication and half joked with him about the possibility that Tony was coming after his job. Tony had assured him that he was trying to do no such thing. And that was the God's honest truth.
With all of that, he also had to court Mildred. Most of their conversations took place over the phone, although they had met for lunch twice at some out-of-the-way eatery where Tony was sure he wouldn't be liable to run into anyone he knew.
So far he had been able to persuade Mildred to keep their romance a secret.
“I don't like people up in my business,” he told her. “This is very special to me, and I hope you feel the same way.”
Mildred did feel the same way and so agreed to keep her mouth shut. Even though she was bursting at the seams with joy.
Now his cell phone was vibrating. He didn't even have to look at the screen. He knew it was Mildred.
Taking a deep breath, he fixed his face with a smile, flipped the phone open, and said, “Hey!”
Sweetness, the spicy, green-eyed Latina bartender whose tits were practically spilling out of her red and white striped bustier, winked at him and started toward another customer.
They'd been flirting recklessly with each other since he'd walked into the bar.
“I'll come back, sweetie,” she purred, before sashaying away to a waiting customer. Tony peeked over the bar to snatch a glance at her apple-shaped behind and found himself licking his lips hungrily. He wouldn't mind taking a bite out of that.
“Hi,” Mildred sang back. “I just wanted to say good night, pleasant dreams, and don't let the bedbugs bite.”
Tony rolled his eyes. “Right back at ya.”
The bartender was coming his way again. He had to get rid of Mildred, and fast.
“Listen, sweetie, I'm here with some of the guys from the office and I don't want to be rude. Can I call—”
“Oh no, no, go ahead. I'm so sorry I interrupted you.”
“But we're on for tomorrow night, right?”
“Yes. Of course. I can't wait.”
“Okay, then. See you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“Okay. You have a good night too,” Mildred said.
Tony flipped the Razr closed just as the bartender approached. “So, now, where were we?”
Sweetness licked her plump lips, rested ten long fingers on the bar, and gave him a seductive nod.
Tony could feel his penis begin to stiffen. This was the sexiest woman he'd come across in a long time.
“So, ‘Sweetness’ is actually on your birth certificate?”
“Yes it is, sugar,” Sweetness responded.
Later on, Tony found himself sitting on Sweetness's black leather couch in her one-bedroom Chelsea apartment. The space was small but homey.
Sweetness had to
ld him to help himself to the bottle of Rémy Martin on the kitchen table while she went in the bedroom to change into something a little more comfortable.
When she reemerged she was dressed in a red scallop-laced negligee that hid nothing at all.
“Well, isn't that special?” Tony heard himself say.
Sweetness walked over to the bookshelf that held everything but books and flipped on the Bose radio. The room was ignited with the erratic sounds of heavy metal. Not really Tony's bag, but hey . . . whatever, right?
Sweetness pulled a joint from behind her ear and started toward him.
“Do you indulge?” she queried, situating herself next to him.
Tony hadn't smoked a joint in more than a year. He was tempted but was still on probation at Greene Investments and could be called out for a piss test at any time, so he declined.
“But please, knock yourself out,” he told Sweetness.
And she did, puffing more than half of the two-inch-long joint.
Tony in the meantime had begun to slowly undo the satin ribbons on the front of the negligee. The lace was obstructing his view, and he wanted to see those tits up close and personal.
Sweetness didn't seem to care that he was slowly undressing her. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to fall back onto the couch.
Her breasts exposed, Tony began to slowly massage them, taking one nipple and then the next into his hot mouth, sucking hungrily until Sweetness moaned with excitement.
Tony stood, pulled her to her feet, and helped her step out of the outfit. She stood before him, long, lean, and as bald as the day she was born down between her legs.
That excited him.
Pushing her gently back down onto the couch, he began to undress.
Maybe if the music weren't so loud he would have heard the key being shoved into the lock. But the music was loud, and when he finally realized what was happening, the door was open and he was naked, his dick at a full alert.
Tony had been in some precarious situations in the past. He'd jumped out of second-floor windows, hid in closets, even spent the night under a king-size bed due to a husband returning from a business trip a day early.
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