Smith's Monthly #21

by Smith, Dean Wesley

  She stepped to one side behind a stone column protected by a large plant and watched him for a moment.

  He was handsome and tall and he did have dark hair.

  He could be the perfect hero of any romance novel. He even a little chiseled jaw.

  But she could tell he was as frightened as Hanna felt.

  Maybe more so.

  And Hanna knew him.

  She wasn’t sure where, but she felt she knew him from somewhere.

  He paced, waiting for the elevator and his nervousness calmed hers. For some reason it made him seem even more attractive. And he was already into Greek God country.

  But wow did he look familiar.

  She had never met him. She would remember meeting someone as good-looking as he was.

  Then she gasped and wanted to throw up.

  Now she knew why he looked familiar.

  The man she was supposed to meet was Ben, Constance’s husband.

  Oh, no. Now what was she supposed to do?

  The rules of the club were that no one was to know each other.

  The elevator doors opened and Ben just stood there, not getting on.

  After the doors closed he shook his head, took a deep breath, and pushed the button again.

  The poor guy was scared to death.

  How could a man that good-looking be that scared?

  This time when the doors opened he stepped inside.

  Hanna felt her own fear vanishing.

  If Constance and Ben were so experienced at this book club thing, Ben never would have been acting like that.

  He had never done this before either.

  This book club thing was all a fake.

  Constance had made up this entire thing, more than likely to try to spice up their marriage, and who more gullible to fall for it and help her and Ben out than Hanna, the shy recluse with too many vibrators.

  Suddenly Hanna felt herself getting angry.

  It would serve Constance right if Hanna did go up there and seduce her husband. They needed marriage counseling, not a book club.

  Hanna started to toss the book into the garbage can next to the elevators and head for her car, then stopped.

  Not showing up wouldn’t help either.

  She actually considered Constance a friend. An office friend, maybe, but at least some sort of friend. And clearly Constance and Ben needed some help. If Hanna didn’t show, Constance and Ben would just try it with someone who might actually show up. And maybe destroy their marriage.

  She had no plans on sleeping with that hunk of a man who had just gone upstairs, but she could at least help him and Constance out.

  A few moments later she was pushing open the door to the suite on the 6th floor, the book club package in her hand.

  The suite was fantastic. A huge, plush living room with far too many large, green plants accenting the tans and browns of the couches and chairs. The drapes were pulled, the lighting lower than normal to set a mood, the wide double-doors to the bedroom completely open showing a bed large enough to sleep a family of six on.

  Facing her across the carpet was the guy she had seen getting on the elevator. Ben, Constance’s husband.

  He was clearly one of the most handsome men Hanna had ever seen. He was dressed perfectly in an expensive suit and a silk tie that matched the handkerchief tucked perfectly in his pocket. Up close he not only had a chiseled chin, but deep green eyes.

  He could pose for covers of romance novels.

  Hanna felt her stomach twist again. Maybe, just maybe she might spend a little time with him before calling his bluff. Someone like him she could have great fantasies about later with her vibrator collection.

  Then she shook her head and cleared out that thought.

  He nodded and nervously smiled with a smile that could just about break anyone’s heart.

  Wow!

  The package in his hands looked like it might explode at any moment the way he squeezed and twisted it.

  She smiled at him.

  Maybe she should just jump his bones. Constance didn’t know how lucky she had it. What was she thinking letting this man near another woman?

  Hanna smiled back, then turned and shut the suite door and locked it.

  Then she turned and tossed her book package on a small table near the door.

  “All right, Ben,” she said. “Let’s drop the act and call Constance.”

  The man facing her for a moment looked puzzled. “You know Constance?”

  His voice was deep and rich enough to give a person a sugar high.

  “Of course I know Constance,” Hanna said, heading past the hunk toward the bottle of champagne on the table. She needed a drink more than anything except sex at the moment.

  “How?” he asked, still holding the book package.

  “She’s my boss and the one who pulled this book club scam on me. And I’ve seen pictures of you on her desk.”

  The hunk sort of looked at the book package in his hands, then tossed it on the closest couch like it would burn him if he held it any longer.

  “So call her and tell her to get her ass down here,” Hanna said. “We all have some talking to do.”

  The guy opened his mouth to say something, then shook his head and closed it. He took out his cell phone and hit a speed-dial number as Hanna poured herself a glass and then filled one for him as well. Might as well get a little something for her money. There was no doubt this night was going to be a bust.

  THREE

  “Constance,” he said. “Hi.”

  He paused. Then he said, “Not so well. She says she recognized me from a picture on your desk and wants to talk to you down here.”

  He nodded and listened, then said, “All right. Thanks.”

  He clicked off the cell phone as Hanna watched.

  “She said it would take her twenty minutes.”

  Hanna nodded and handed him a glass of champagne.

  She had about a thousand questions she wanted to ask him, but most of them would wait until Constance got her. For the moment she was just going to stare at the guy and pretend he really was her date for the evening.

  He took the glass and walked over to the window and opened the heavy drapes.

  For the first time she noticed the faint background music playing in the suite. Romantic string music not too loud, but there.

  Someone really had gone to a lot of work with every detail.

  After taking a sip and staring out the window for a moment, he turned. “So you were willing to go through with this crazy book club idea?”

  She shook her head. “More than likely not. I was about to chicken out when I recognized you getting on the elevator. I figured I was a friend of Constance and you two, if you were going to this level of planning and deception, really needed some marriage help.”

  For the second time he smiled and again she felt things melt inside her that shouldn’t be melting in public.

  He sipped his champagne. “Since you seem to know me, can I have the pleasure?”

  “Sorry,” she said, smiling back at him. “Hanna Wurmbrand. I work with Constance at the CIA and can’t tell you any more without killing you.”

  He actually laughed softly at her stupid joke, the nervousness now long gone, replaced by a confidence that sort of radiated from every wonderful pore of his wonderful body.

  And she was starting to feel more nervous by the moment.

  She took another sip of the expensive champagne and then went back to the package she had tossed on the table near the door. She held it up. “Did you open yours?”

  “No,” he said. “I followed the rules.”

  She looked at him and frowned. “So you don’t know which book Constance put in these packages?”

  “Not a clue,” he said, again smiling. “But I have to admit, this is a very, very elaborate set-up don’t you think? I wonder how she got the idea?”

  Hanna now felt even more confused. It was starting to sound like Ben hadn’t been in on what
Constance was doing. Or at least it seemed that way.

  She put the package down without opening it yet again.

  He took a sip, then excused himself and headed for the bathroom. “Nervous bladder and too much coffee on the way over here.”

  He vanished into the bathroom and closed the door, leaving her alone in the huge suite that now felt completely empty. It was stunning how one man could fill such a huge space with his presence.

  Constance had no idea how lucky she was.

  Hanna opened the door into the hallway and blocked it open with the security latch, then took her glass and went over to the window to stare out at the beautiful Washington DC night. If nothing else about this city, it could be beautiful.

  Behind her there was a knock on the hotel room door.

  She didn’t know how she felt right now, but anger was just below the surface. More than likely she was going to be without a job in a few minutes, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t work with Constance anymore, not after this.

  “Come on in, it’s open.”

  Hanna turned as Constance and Ben came through the door from the hallway.

  Hanna glanced at the bathroom door, which was still closed.

  And Ben had changed into a sweater and tan slacks.

  Constance looked around, worried, then stepped forward leaving Ben in the entry. “Are you all right?”

  Hanna went to open her mouth to yell at her boss but didn’t get out a word as the bathroom door opened and a second Ben stepped out.

  “Constance, Ben,” the man said. “This sure was an elaborate trick to play on us.”

  Hanna just stood there, her mouth open, staring at the three other people in the suite.

  Two who were clearly twins. Identical twins.

  “Sorry, brother,” Ben said, stepping forward. “We figured it was the only way we could get you two together.”

  Constance nodded, smiling first at Hanna, then turning to the man who would have been Hanna’s date. “You both hated blind dates and had had such bad luck with dating services. We felt you would be a perfect match if we could just get you together.”

  “So you tricked us,” the man said, clearly some anger in his voice as he moved up to stand near Hanna, his champagne glass in his hand. “Why didn’t you just introduce me to this wonderful and smart woman and let us see what might happen?”

  Hanna looked over at him. She didn’t even know his name.

  “And how would we have done that?” Constance asked. “You two are impossible to break out of your schedules.”

  “A backyard cookout might have been an idea,” he said. “You do barbeque, don’t you, Ben?”

  Ben, standing behind Constance, just nodded, clearly embarrassed.

  Hanna held up her hand for silence.

  “Constance, could I get a complete story please?” And then she turned to the man standing beside her. “And a name?”

  “Gary,” the man said, looking at her with those wonderful green eyes and a smile that could melt steel off a high-rise. “I am Ben’s twin-and-clearly-smarter brother.”

  He reached out and they shook hands.

  At that moment Hanna didn’t want to let go of Gary’s hand and he didn’t seem to want to look away or let go of her hand as well.

  She could get lost in those eyes if he let her. Wow, what a horrid romance novel cliché, but now she understood it. The swirling green of those eyes were just hypnotic.

  Finally he did let go and she felt disappointment go to places of her body she didn’t know could feel disappointment.

  Constance shrugged. “We thought it would be impossible to get you two together, so we came up with the book club idea. It seemed like a great idea at the time.”

  “Hanna thought I was Ben,” Gary said, “and was willing to stay here and help talk her friend through her marriage troubles.”

  Constance looked at Hanna, then just blushed and looked down. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  A very tense silence settled over the large suite with only the faint romantic background music floating through the roughness of the moment.

  Hanna knew that it was up to her to do something to break this. Her job and the future of their family happiness and trust depended on her taking some action now.

  She turned to the handsome hunk beside her. “I am all dressed up and so hungry I could eat the cork off that bottle.”

  Gary smiled and said nothing.

  “How about we go get dinner, just you and me?”

  “I would love that,” he said, smiling, offering his arm.

  She took it with a flourish, and she had to admit it felt wonderful. He felt strong and solid.

  As they walked across the suite toward the door, she smiled at Constance and then at Ben. “Thank you for the very kind thoughts.”

  “Yes,” Gary said to his brother and sister-in-law. “Weird, but interesting. Thank you.”

  As Gary opened the door for her, Hanna smiled at her boss. “And we expect a new bottle of champagne by the time we get back.”

  “And you two long gone,” Gary said.

  Constance and Ben both smiled huge smiles of relief.

  “And leave the books,” Hanna said, winking at Constance and making her blush as the door swung closed.

  Hanna and Gary both laughed all the way down the hall, which Hanna knew was just the romance novel way of saying they lived happily-ever-after.

  And she liked that idea a great deal.

  When a fella wins the lottery, he learns all sorts of things, including how his magic socks really feel and how much they want some companion magic socks.

  But sometimes, even after winning the lottery, magic socks don’t always get what they want.

  When socks go rogue. Never a pretty sight.

  MY SOCKS ROLLED DOWN

  A person can only go so far in life with only one pair of magic socks. I know, I know, it’s tough to imagine anyone only having one pair of magic socks, but you can come and search the three drawers in my small bedroom of my trailer, or look under my old second-hand green couch, or even check the coin-op laundry where I do my clothes. You won’t find more than one pair. And I wear them every day and have for my entire life, all twenty-three years of it.

  Sad, huh?

  I’ve never had more than one pair. My mom gave them to me on her deathbed when I was born, rolling my little feet into the magic white cotton like putting little rubbers on two small penises. I don’t remember the act, of course, but for some reason, that pair of magic socks are the only pair I have ever had.

  As with all magic socks, they fit me perfectly and always have, growing perfectly with me right up until I stopped growing at five-four and a half.

  And they never wear out. I wash them once a week, never leaving the washer or dryer while they are in there. I’ve heard of people stealing magic socks. It’s bad enough only having one pair. I really can’t imagine those few poor souls who have none.

  What scares me is that I am only one pair of magic socks away from those poor, sockless souls. It would really be better if I could find a second pair. And three pair would be perfect. I might be able to do something with my life if I had three. That way I wouldn’t have to do laundry so often.

  Well, my dream to have enough money to buy more magic socks finally came true on January 13th at five in the evening. I was sitting there, watching my old television, hoping a truck didn’t go by outside on the gravel road and shake the rabbit ears I had made of tin foil.

  Every week I bought a lottery ticket, and every week I played the same numbers and watched the lottery drawing on television before turning the channel over to Wheel. Can’t let a night go by without staring at Vanna’s tits, you understand.

  If I just had more than one pair of magic socks, she might talk to me.

  I had my feet kicked up on the old pine coffee table while I sat on the couch drinking a Pabst, the best beer anywhere for the price. My boots were by the front door and my magic socks looked lik
e it was time for another trip to the coin-op.

  The first number was six, and the magic socks on my feet tingled a little. The last time they tingled like that I found a five-dollar bill on the sidewalk.

  Six was the first number I always picked. It was how old I was when I shot my first rabbit with Grandad’s twenty-two.

  Next number was eight, and my old magic socks were giving me a real itchy feel. Last time they did that, when I was sixteen, I got laid for the first time by the mother of my best friend at the time.

  Eight was the age I was when Dad brought home my new stepmother who stayed for two years before she disappeared one night and Dad came back kind of muddy and smiling.

  I took a swallow of the Pabst and set it down on the coffee table as the next number came up.

  Fourteen, and my magic socks were rubbing my feet so hard they were getting almost hot. In all my years I’d never had my magic socks get so excited.

  “Down, boys, down,” I said, reaching for the drawer and pulling out this week’s ticket to make sure I had the numbers right. I did. The first three were six, eight, fourteen. Fourteen was when they arrested Dad for killing stepmom number three, or maybe it was number four, I wasn’t sure.

  The police talked to me for a while, then said that I was going to a foster home, but I ran off, got my clothes and hunting equipment and Dad’s hidden rifle and ammunition and made it off into the mountains along the coast. I camped out until I turned eighteen, which was my next number.

  The guy on the television watched the old ping-pong ball slide up the tube and he said, “Eighteen.”

  My magic socks felt like dancing, so that was what I did, got up and danced around the living room for a moment, letting them celebrate. I really liked how they were hugging my feet like a woman hugging a long lost lover. That felt great to be honest.

  With four right numbers I had already won a few thousand. Just one more of the two and things would be really fine.

  My next number was twenty. That’s when I moved into this doublewide trailer up Jenson Creek.