by C. C. Morian
She settled on warm weather business attire, just a little less formal than usual. After all, it was at a trade show in a party town, she didn’t think anyone attending the show would be that dressed up. Anyone she met might assume that she was at the show, but the more she thought about it, the more she rejected that idea, she wouldn’t know what to talk about, she couldn’t invent a reason why she’d be there. Better to just pretend that she was there for some other reason, she’d think of something.
In the end she decided none of her clothes worked, even though she had plenty to pick from. She went shopping, the entire experience a kick, remembering what it was like before she was married, getting ready to go out with her girlfriends, going through each other’s clothes, mixing and matching, trying to find the perfect combination to attract some men.
She thought about bringing Julie shopping, it would be a blast, but she wasn’t ready to share this yet, if at all. Melissa guessed Julie would be supportive, but if she wasn’t, or if she was just a bit surprised, or disappointed— Melissa couldn’t face that now. She’d have to, when it came to the reunion, but for now, this was still just a secret between her and Richard.
She bought three outfits, one dress and two skirt and blouse ensembles, and a new jacket. She considered a nice pants combo, thinking it would go with some open toed dressy sandals, or even a really good flat, but discarded the idea. Besides her face, her legs were her best asset. It would be either the dress or a skirt.
If she got a guy to look at her legs, he’d be hooked.
The morning of the flight Melissa had butterflies in her stomach. This was it. Now doubt was battling with her anticipation.
She would be taking a few vacation days; she told people at the office she was going on a work trip with her husband. No reason for them not to know. Richard had informed his office he was bringing her, it was no big deal either way for them, as long as Richard paid for Melissa’s ticket and her meals personally. It was common practice, no one gave it a second thought.
Their flights were a few hours apart, so they’d be leaving separately for the airport. Richard had scheduled things so that he would arrive first, he’d check into the room and leave her a key at the front desk in an envelope. When Melissa asked why he just didn’t wait for her in their room, he explained that he wanted her to feel, as much as she could, that she was on her own, that she was alone there. She’d have time to freshen up and then go down to the bar, and he’d come in later.
It was time. Melissa suddenly realized that, although they had talked a lot about the logistics of their adventure, the hotel, the separate flights, what time they would be at the bar, they hadn’t talked about what might actually happen.
Over the morning coffee, she asked, “Richard, in case we don’t get a chance to talk. What exactly do you want me to do? In the bar?”
Richard shrugged. “I really don’t have an expectation. I don’t want to have one. The reality probably wouldn’t match it anyway. Let’s just see where it goes.”
“But what if nothing happens?”
He looked her up and down. She was dressed for travel, a pants suit, some flats. A loose jacket. “You look pretty good to me.”
Melissa glanced down at her clothes. “I—I packed something nicer for tonight.”
“Hmm. Why would you do that? Trying to get lucky?”
She was surprised, Richard was actually teasing her, lighthearted. He was looking forward to this.
“Well, I do have a hotel room in a fun city with my sexy husband,” she said.
“Really? I thought you were going to be there alone.”
Melissa played along. “Well, for part of the night. . .” She pulled him close, wanting a hug. They held each other, and then she said, “Seriously, Richard, what happens if no one is interested in me? This would have been a lot of energy, for nothing.”
Richard broke from the hug, looking into her eyes. “Seriously yourself. Are you telling me you don’t think you can get a man at a bar interested enough to flirt with you a little, have a few drinks, maybe do some dancing?”
Melissa thought of the restaurant she had been in, the men checking her out, how she only had to turn it on just a little to get them to look, certain they would have come on to her if she had let it.
She had considered, even at this late stage, that she’d give Richard one more chance to change his mind. Even if nothing happened on this trip, just talking about it had opened that Pandora’s box of possibilities, not all of them good.
But the look on his face stopped her. Richard wanted this. Melissa hadn’t seen him this animated in years.
And when was the last time they had a trip together? So maybe she’d have a drink with a guy at the bar, hell, she’d done that on airport layovers, with no thought at all about it, and certainly no consequences. Nothing would happen in New Orleans, the bar pickup thing would be a bust. She and Richard would laugh at the entire thing, and then they would have some nice, warm sex in their hotel room.
Both thinking of what might have happened.
That was what she worried about. Would she be disappointed if nothing happened? What if she did see some hot looking guy, and was fantasizing about him when she was alone with Richard, instead of focusing on her husband?
Like the reunion, now that it was in her head, she couldn’t get it out. She’d wonder even if they didn’t go to New Orleans.
“Richard, I just want to ask you one thing. Aren’t you at all worried about what you might find out on this trip?”
Richard shrugged. “A little. But I already know that the play acting excites both of us. We are just pushing it a little.”
“I didn’t mean that. What if—what if what you find out, what we both find out, is that I really like this? What if it is something that I want? That deep down inside, I’m some kind of slut?”
Richard shook his head. “You are many things, all of them good. You are certainly not a slut. Even if you flirt with some man, even if you kiss him, you can’t become something you’re not.”
Melissa smiled, a little unsure. “I guess not.” But she suddenly realized that this was the crux of the problem. Sure, she wasn’t really a slut. She couldn’t turn into one, either.
But Richard couldn’t turn into someone else either. He couldn’t become Marcus, or even someone like him.
Chapter 6
The flight went fine, the usual hassle at the airport not giving Melissa time to really think about what might happen. On the ride in from the airport she noticed how much the city had changed since her last visit.
The hotel was new, a typical convention box, a huge lobby, gleaming. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the inviting bar, and suddenly it hit her. That’s where she was going to be later that night, acting out this weird fantasy of her husband’s. No, this had been her idea. She still had mixed feelings, thinking of the potential, about how it could answer questions she so desperately needed answering, how it could help or even save her marriage.
And maybe even help her understand how she could get what she really needed in her life.
The room was a surprise, a small suite. A bedroom, but with a second room, a living room that had it’s own entrance. Melissa wondered about that, it seemed extravagant.
There was no sign of Richard, even though she knew he must have checked in, he had left the key for her at the front desk. Puzzled, Melissa opened the closet door, and there was Richard’s luggage, tucked in the corner. Nothing unpacked, no clothes on hangers. He obviously was taking this all very seriously, the idea of having her feel she was alone.
Her phone beeped. A text from Richard. It said simply, ‘Hope you arrived safely. Have a fun trip.’
Seriously indeed.
It was too early to go to the bar. Melissa was too wound up to be hungry, but knew she’d better eat. She hated room service, so after unpacking went down to the casual lobby restaurant without even changing.
The place was packed. The hotel must have been holdi
ng multiple conferences. A lot of the men and women in the restaurant still wore name tags, a loud, friendly crowd. Almost everyone was in groups, making her immediately wonder if she was going to be able to meet any men by themselves. Contrary to her embellished story to Richard about the restaurant, she wouldn’t want to deal with more than two guys at a bar.
The hostess sat her in a corner, apologizing for the table, explaining it was extra busy. Melissa actually didn’t mind, it would give her a chance to check things out. She ordered a glass of wine and a Cobb salad.
As she waited for her food she took a better inventory of the crowd. Would these be the people at the bar tonight?
The waiter brought Melissa her food and she toyed with the salad, not really hungry, forcing herself to take a few bites. She found herself checking out the people in the restaurant. There were more women than she had expected. While her company actually had more women than men employees, she knew that conferences tended to be more male. She was surprised at herself; she had already started to think of the women as competition, that they would be in her way if she was trying to at least pretend to be picking up some guy. A lot of the women were quite attractive, polished in a businesslike way but well turned out. Quite a few of them were younger than her. Melissa reminded herself that most of them were working, they wouldn’t be doing what she was doing, not overtly, or not at all, they’d be with their colleagues. That would give her an edge.
Was she looking forward to this more than she was letting herself admit?
A few of the men looked okay, but she was never one to just get loose kneed over seeing some guy from a distance; she had to talk to him, feel his vibe. Marcus had been her only real exception. Well, and Vern. Maybe one or two others.
She didn’t expect to find anyone like them here.
Back in her room, still too early for the bar, Melissa decided to take a shower. She didn’t need one, but if she was going to play the part, she might as well do it all the way, think of it as a night out, a possible date.
After the shower, there was still no sign of Richard. Melissa did her hair, taking longer than necessary, getting caught up in it. She laid her outfits on the bed, going back and forth, deciding what to wear. The women she had seen downstairs had been in casual convention clothing, slacks, some conservative skirts, mostly flats, a few heels. Melissa decided she needed to look a little different, but not too different, so she decided on a skirt and some low heels, simple pearls, and a dark blue, somewhat fitted jacket that would set off her natural blond hair.
That in itself would get Melissa noticed, her hair. She had nothing against coloring, but the bleached-blond-hair-with-the dark-eyebrows look that was so popular these days always seemed a little unnatural to her, and she suspected it did to men as well, at least subconsciously.
Just before heading downstairs, she hesitated, looking at her wedding ring. Keep it on or leave it behind? Would it mock her if she kept it on? Would men avoid her?
Would she have to lie if someone asked her if she was married? Or would they just assume she was single if she didn’t have a ring?
She decided she’d get flustered if someone asked and she had to lie. So she kept it on.
Though it was still early, the bar was pretty crowded, most of the tables filled with convention attendees, some looking like they had been drinking for a while. Melissa decided the best way to not appear nervous or out of place was just to pretend it was like any other business trip; she was going to have a quick nightcap before going to bed. So she headed for the bar without even glancing around.
There was only one seat available, in between two other women, both of them turned opposite each other, talking to people they were with. Melissa slipped into the seat and ordered a kir. When the drink came she took a big sip, gathered herself, and slowly turned around to face the room.
No one seemed to have even noticed her.
After ten minutes, Melissa laughed to herself. What was she thinking? That some guy was going to pull himself away from his colleagues, some of them women, and approach her in the crowded bar?
The realization immediately loosened her up. She relaxed, forgetting for a moment why she was there, just enjoying her drink and even the innocuous background music. If she was going to try to meet someone in New Orleans, this probably wasn’t going to be the place.
She scanned the crowd, trying to catch a glimpse of Richard, but she didn’t see him, the place was that large. Maybe he had changed his mind, maybe he didn’t want to see her after all. Or maybe he was at a table in the back corner with some potential customer, surreptitiously keeping an eye on her.
Melissa had nervously rushed through her first drink and was now nursing a second. Every so often she’d look out over the room, wondering about Richard, still not seeing him. She was so intent on spotting her husband she was surprised when she heard a man’s voice practically in her ear.
“Looking for someone?”
She turned to the speaker, a man not much older than her. He had a neatly trimmed beard and goatee, with curly light brown hair and nice blue eyes. He was wearing a dark sport jacket over a light blue polo shirt and khakis. The blue shirt set off his eyes, and Melissa immediately thought, casually dressed as he was, that he had chosen the color on purpose. A nametag on his lapel said, ‘Bob Sinclair, Five Star Products.’
Melissa smiled automatically. “Not really, just people watching.”
“Sometimes that’s the only good thing about a convention,” he replied, turning in his seat to face the room just as Melissa was.
“Not a good trip?” asked Melissa. “Bob, I see?”
“This one’s been a bust,” he said. He glanced over at Melissa. “So far.”
Melissa pretended she didn’t notice his come on, it was relatively subtle and not too bad as come-ons went. Still, a quick hint of a thrill ran up her spine, she wondered if Richard could see her.
Although it had been a long time, Melissa knew how to play this game. Be available, but not too available. . .
She didn’t respond, waiting Bob out. Would he give up?
“You’re not here for a conference, are you?” he asked. He sounded sincerely interested.
“Why do you say that?” Melissa asked.
“You don’t have a name tag, you aren’t with a bunch of other people getting drunk either because they are celebrating or wallowing in defeat, and—” he turned away and took a sip of his drink. Without looking at her, he said, “And you are dressed better.”
Melissa granted him a little smile. “Are you going to get drunk?”
Bob shrugged. “The night is young. Still time to wallow in defeat. Or celebrate.”
Melissa was enjoying this more than she expected; Bob was no leering jerk. “Okay, smartass, don’t turn your head, and tell me what I’m wearing.”
Without hesitating, he replied, “Dark blue jacket, black buttons. Off white blouse, and a single layer of pearls. A skirt with a subtle herringbone. Low heels. No stockings.” He paused. “And your eyes are green.”
Melissa felt a slight rush of heat. In her experience, men rarely noticed much of anything other than body parts. How long had he been checking her out?
“My, my,” she said, “aren’t we observant.” And then, as if an afterthought, she added, “Not bad. Especially the part about my eyes.”
Bob turned to her. “I have a confession to make.”
“Is this where you tell me you have been stalking me?”
“Yes.”
He said it so seriously that Melissa grew cold, apprehensive. This wasn’t the kind of danger she liked.
Bob broke into a grin, then a full laugh. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I know that isn’t something to joke about. You just laid it out there and I couldn’t resist.” He composed himself. “Really. I did see you earlier. In the restaurant. You were sitting alone in the corner, and I wondered why.”
Melissa relaxed a little. She hadn’t noticed him, but thought it would be too rude
to mention. “It was pretty crowded there,” she said.
“A woman by herself is more noticeable than a man with a bunch of other people,” he said. “Especially an attractive woman.”
“Now you are laying it on,” said Melissa, not angry. He was just flirting a little.
Bob shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.” He took another sip of his beer. “But I did miss one thing in the restaurant.”
“Really? What’s that?”
Bob gestured toward Melissa’s hand. “Your rings. I see you are married.” His voice held a bit of resignation, an almost full acceptance that he was wasting his time.
“I am,” said Melissa.
“Where’s your husband, if you don’t mind my asking?”
This was it, thought Melissa. There were a dozen things she could say. That Richard was on his way to the bar. That he was meeting with someone in another part of the hotel.
But she was caught up in it now, a bit of the cat and mouse, feeling a little good that this man had noticed her at the restaurant, and had approached her out of all these women. Bob knew how to play the game too, she was sure he did his share of picking up women, had his share of wins and losses.
She glanced at Bob’s left hand. He wasn’t wearing a ring.
What could it hurt?
Melissa pretended to pretend she was looking out over the crowd. She actually was trying to see if Richard was there, but she didn’t want Bob to know that.
She turned to him and said, “He’s obviously not here.”
Bob’s eyes widened a bit, and his eyebrow went up. With those words Melissa had given him a ray of hope.
“I don’t want to sound forward or anything,” he said, just a little hesitant. “But it’s a little loud in here. There are some jazz bars down the street. Not the best part of town, but this early in the evening it is fine. Maybe you’d be interested?”