Minutes later, Giorgio awkwardly apologized for suggesting she could be remotely interested in that sort of man, the boring type. Dior huffed, feigning frustration. She demanded an end to questions about her life outside of the clothing store. Giorgio agreed. He had no other choice. They said their goodbyes on even terms, as he grabbed his keys and left with a bank deposit tucked under his blazer.
With an hour to kill, Richard drove to a small sandwich shop across from the mall complex. He ordered a fajita wrap but barely touched it. Instead he played with the business card Dior had given him. Richard had committed her cell phone number to memory by the time he’d actually dialed it. Oddly enough, he couldn’t get himself to toss it into the trash can along with the half-eaten Tex-Mex entrée. He wanted to savor his association with Dior, discover what made her tick and what exactly made him want to be near her so bad. Richard had no idea she was two steps ahead of him, lying in wait to spring her trap. She was accustomed to playing the mistress, weekend girlfriend, and the occasional back-office sneak freak. Each of them paid dividends in their own way, but a chance to live the square life with a prominent minister was too big to pass up. Dior wanted top billing and the limelight. This time around, she was set on playing for keeps.
Richard waited until he was certain Dior was out of the store before he returned to his car to call her. His chest tightened as the phone rang. When she answered, he had to suppress the cheerfulness buzzing through his entire body, so as not to appear what he was: an old bee chasing young honey. “Dior, this is Richard.”
“Hey, you, hold on.” She backed her car out of the mall parking lot then glanced at her watch. It was ten after four. “I’m glad you called. Where are you?” she asked in a sultry tone more suitable for private grown-folk conversations.
“I’m not far from the mall. We could meet at this sandwich shop across the street if you like.”
“Uh-huh, I know the place but I don’t have your stuff with me. Do you have something to write with?”
Richard rustled through the console of his car for a pen and pad. “Yes, go on.” Dior gave him directions then asked if he could be there within fifteen minutes. He recognized the area then concluded that the place she’d selected was about ten minutes away. “Sure, but it sounds like directions to a residence,” he said, staring at the piece of paper.
“You’re right; that’s how you’ll get to my house.” She hung up without offering a closing salutation, wheeled down Monfort, then hooked a left onto the freeway feeder road. Her radio blasted hits between Tangie’s comical inserts during the intermission. Dior raced to her house, pulled into the garage, and then flew inside. Richard had already popped up once without calling so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he’d overstep his bounds again and arrive early. She opened her hall closet and pulled out an assortment of gift boxes. The largest was two-by-three feet, big enough to hold the garment Richard had been waiting on. Dior opened another box filled with ribbons, wrapping paper, and everything else that wrapping services used to beautify a cardboard container. Skillfully, she strung a thick felt bow around the box, tied and taped it perfectly, then set it on the sofa table in her den. Another glance at the clock warned that she was running out of time. I know he’ll come early, she thought. I just know it, with his impulsive, impatient behind. Men with money are all alike.
When Dior noticed a black Lexus had parked in front of her house, she began to take off her clothes. “That is him,” she said to herself. “Sometimes I hate being right.” It took Richard what seemed like forever to get out of that sixty-thousand-dollar car. Dior couldn’t fault a man for taking his time to climb out of a fine automobile. Her brother, Dooney, once told her that a nice whip was the next best thing to a fine woman. She figured that was the reason men ran out and pampered them every chance they got. “Boys and their toys,” she said after the doorbell rang. She wasn’t in any rush to answer it. Richard wasn’t going anywhere. And once he laid eyes on her treacherous trappings, it was likely she’d have to put him out afterward.
Richard was impressed with the outside of Dior’s home. It was a small two-story redbrick starter home trimmed in black, well-kept, with a neat lawn and manicured shrubs in the front. Assuming it was more house than she could afford, he wasn’t sure if she lived alone. Hence, the lengthy time he’d spent in his automobile against the curb. “Hey, you found it,” she offered warmly, after finally answering the door. She pretended to be in such a hurry and oblivious to the spell her sheer negligee and sexy golden slippers put on him. Richard was thrown for a loop. A woman dressed in what he’d always called “entertainment skivvies” was flitting about as if she didn’t care whether or not he could see her hot pink panties and bra underneath. “Come on in. I’ll be back in a minute,” Dior said, strolling in the other direction. She needed him to be off balance, early and often, so she left the door ajar. That way, he had to make himself at home without realizing it wasn’t his idea. “Sorry, I spilled some pop on my dress and I was about to change. Let me get your box.”
Sweltering emotions boiled within Richard’s head and heart. He couldn’t steer his gaze from Dior’s shapely attributes swaying sensually in her tiger-print robe. “What the,” he mouthed from the doorway, totally lost in the confusion she created. While stepping into her lair, Richard observed that the inner confines were very accommodating. Each room was painted a different color and decorated with bone-white leather and rich earth-toned accessories. Expensive contemporary furniture, Richard thought. She’s got taste. White ceramic tile placed throughout the foyer added to the contemporary appeal. It was clear Dior had spent quite some time and a great deal of money to make it just so. Richard was honored to be invited in but it wasn’t clear why he took a seat without being offered one, why she came to the door dressed like a high-priced call girl then dashed off seemingly uninterested.
Eventually, Dior came down the stairs carrying a full laundry basket. Richard stood when he heard her approaching the den. The moment he saw her load, he rushed over to help with it. “Thank you, Richard, but you didn’t have to get up. I’m used to doing for myself.” He took the laundry basket despite her objection. Once again he was following her steps. He’d have stayed on her tail to the end of the earth.
In the utility room, Richard set the basket on the floor then shrugged his shoulders. “Is this alright?”
“I told you I’m used to doing everything for myself,” she reiterated. “Thanks though, it was getting kind of heavy.” She chuckled, giving him a quick full-frontal view. It was exhilarating to watch him fantasize about her breasts. “Well, I know you’re a very busy man and I do need to get dressed and back to work.”
“Oh, yeah-yeah,” he answered, on her heels again. “Dior, do you always dress like this when you’re home?”
“All the time. I get hot so easy so it’s either run up a high utility bill or shed some fabric. Plus, I’m free-spirited so this works for me nine times out of ten.” She stopped in her tracks. “You’re not one of those extra-inhibited-type brothas?”
“No, nothing like that,” he answered quickly. “Uninhibited is good. Everything has its place.”
“I agree and up in my place, this is how I roll.” Dior picked up the box she prepared for him. “I hope you like it.” She folded her arms when he stood there, unsure what to do next. “Well, what are you waiting on? I’ve got to get changed and you’ve got to go, so scoot.”
Richard thanked Dior for the trouble she’d gone through to provide optimum customer service. He graciously took his wrapped gift box and placed it on the front seat of his car. After sitting out in front of the house for the longest time, struggling with his horny inner man and asking himself what just happened and why he was feeling guilty about it, he started up the car and pulled away. His palms sweated, his zipper stretched under the force of a massive erection, and a fire burned deep within him. He was thankful that nothing transpired he’d have to ask forgiveness over, although he wasn’t willing to admit how than
kful he’d have been if things had turned out differently. Richard hadn’t encountered anyone like her before. Dior was a free spirit like she said, being near her caused him to want some of it for himself. Halfway home, Richard calculated his chances of seeing her again. Since Dior’s boss had all but banished him from the clothing store, it would have to be privately. Richard exited the tollway wearing an impish grin the devil himself would have envied.
Nine
Bait and Switch
Two days had passed since Dior enticed Richard at her home. Through the power of suggestion and a drop-dead gorgeous body, she tugged at his morals and aggravated his inner man to no end. He went to bed with the image of her sultry strut and sinfully sheer robe indelibly stamped on his brain. Sleeping wasn’t any easier. Dior had traipsed her way through his dreams again. This episode far exceeded the last. Richard woke up at two fifteen in the morning with another stiff rise in his shorts and Nadeen staring upside his head like she’d read his mind and condemned him to hell. He turned his gaze from hers, hoping he hadn’t said anything incriminating in his sleep. When Richard built up the nerve to address the evil glare she’d flung at him, he pushed out a labored yawn. While catching his breath, he licked his lips and then cleared his throat. “Baby, why are you looking at me like that?”
“Why is your chest heaving in and out like that?” she replied sternly. His answer didn’t come forth directly so Nadeen sat up against the headboard, flicked on the lamp on the nightstand, then adjusted the nylon bonnet wrapped around her head. “Something’s bothering you, Richard. Now is as good a time as any to tell me what that something is.” Nadeen examined his face and tense shoulders. Obviously he was putting up with a formidable entity, one strong enough to trouble him even at rest.
Richard rubbed his eyes and faked another unconvincing yawn. “I can’t really call it. Just tired, I guess. Why don’t you put out that light? It’s late.” She didn’t accept that lame answer but there was no point in trying to pull it out of him then. Another opportunity would present itself to get at the truth, she’d decided. On the other hand, they were both awake and behind on sleep, presenting the perfect opportunity to catch up on a major benefit of being married.
“I remember a time when you’d wake me up and insist we keep the lights on so you could see what we were getting into,” she asserted seductively. “But I can be persuaded to do it in the dark.” Nadeen raised her behind off the bed to wrestle her granny panties down past her full thighs. Once they were off and on the nightstand beside the bed, she climbed to her knees and began planting openmouthed kisses on Richard’s neck and chest. If she had seen his worrisome expression, she would have climbed into a deep hole instead. “Ooh,” she moaned, when her hands found the bulge in his shorts. “This isn’t tired at all. Let’s see if we can wear him out.” Richard’s lips parted but nothing came out when Nadeen sauntered over to lock the bedroom door. He examined her body, significantly thicker than it was when they married. Before seeing Dior in all her glory, he was always up for a bout of slap and tickle with his wife. He realized then it was a mistake to compare her figure to another woman’s. Nadeen recognized their relationship had taken a turn when she slid beneath the covers to Richard’s limp excuse.
“Sorry, baby, I don’t know what to say. I guess it’s not —”
“Uh-uh, Richard, don’t even try to explain!” she hissed through tightly clenched teeth. “I knew something was wrong. Since you’re bent on keeping it to yourself and letting it come between us, I’m holding you responsible.”
“Nadeen, I’m sorry,” he apologized sorrowfully.
“Just fix it!” She snatched her panties off the nightstand then stomped into the bathroom with them balled in her fist. Although she locked the door to shut him out, Richard considered trekking behind her like he had when keeping step with Dior. Knowing Nadeen needed to be touched in ways that mere words couldn’t, he thought better of it.
Inside the bathroom, Nadeen wiped tears from her face. She paced back and forth in front of the mirror, terrified that Richard had lost his affection and desire to be with her. Nadeen heard hundreds of stories about men growing tired of being with the same woman but that didn’t make it any easier on her. When she thought Richard had finally fallen off to sleep, she put on her nightgown, got in the bed, then pulled the cover up to her neck. “I love you so much, Richard,” she whispered quietly. “Don’t let that something tear us apart.”
Although Richard pretended to be asleep, he’d heard every syllable. I know and I am sorry, Nadeen, he almost said but didn’t. After cheating on her over ten years ago, Richard couldn’t put any stock into cheap and empty promises. He’d have to reaffirm his commitment to Nadeen in a manner befitting a loving husband through his actions, thoughts, and deeds. If he was going to be a do-right man, there was no room for Dior in the life he built with Nadeen, no room at all.
Morning came so soon that neither Richard or his wife seemed adequately prepared to meet it head-on. Nadeen dressed and showered with the bathroom door locked. Richard used the upstairs guest suite to do the same. Like two bulls in a china shop, both of them avoided smashing things, said very little, and stayed out of the other’s way. Finally, around noon, Nadeen collected her briefcase and then hit the door. Clueless as to how to proceed with Richard, she’d had enough of the awkward feelings permeating throughout the house. He blamed himself for what didn’t happen the night before and for sounding the alarm that he wasn’t there mentally any longer. Nadeen had the right to be upset, he reasoned. It wasn’t every night she managed to kill an erection simply by sliding out of her panties and strutting across the room. Richard sat in his home office, kicking himself for letting things go unresolved for so long. After another hour drifted by, he came up with a hundred better ways to have handled the situation. And he wished he had used one of them, if for no other reason than Nadeen was his mate and his friend. There were a number of methods available to satisfy her, had he been interested. Penetration was off the table and oral satisfaction was out of the question. How quickly times had changed. A few months ago, he’d have sopped Nadeen like a hot buttered biscuit and then licked the plate.
Richard puttered about the house as if a neighborhood bully stood on his front porch and dared him to set foot outside. He regretted having to see Dior for more reasons than one. Since she had previously seen the gift he bought her, he had to follow through on delivering it. Richard realized how his fantasy of befriending the attractive minx for the sake of a semi-harmless association now bordered on obsession. He also recognized the undeniable need to step back and move along once he did. Calling Dior to squelch the fires he’d begun to fuel was harder than he expected. He dialed the number twice then hung up each time. Saying the right things hadn’t come easily in the past ten hours so Richard determined that a cell phone text message would set the ball in motion. Then he’d set up a short meeting with Dior when and if she made time to respond. This is Richard. I forgot your gift. Where and when do you want to get it? He pressed SEND then set the phone next to his car keys. During the time he slipped on a pair of leather loafers Dior transmitted a very simple but naughty response.
I want it now . . . my house. Call me.
Richard grabbed his keys off the desk and flew out of his garage like the house was on fire. With so much at stake, he was understandably worked up over facing his latest demon. Better sooner than later, he thought, while carrying the department store bag toward Dior’s passion pit. Do what you know is best and leave it where it belongs: on her doorstep. He rang the bell, intending to see her one more time while keeping his feet firmly planted on the welcome mat, where they were on safe and solid ground. Richard should have saved the deep breath he took when someone opened the door from the other side. He’d need it the moment he started to sink.
Even more alluring than Richard predicted, Dior’s outfit gave him cause to rethink the deal he’d make with himself. She baited him with a sexy pair of low-rise denim shorts, high heel p
umps, a sleeveless crop-top pullover, and a fresh application of shimmering body lotion to glaze her skin. “So you just gonna stand there like the pizza man?” she asked in a subtly seductive voice.
“Hey, I came to tell you that it was a mistake for me to come here. But, since I do want you to have this and since it’s not acceptable to stop by the shop, here I am again.” He held out the small bag. Dior turned up her nose. Richard couldn’t be sure if her disdain was aimed at him or the perfume.
“Come in for a minute, Richard. Had me putting on outside clothes inside my own house and trying to be respectful of your hang-ups. Come on, it’s the least you can do.” Again she turned and walked away, leaving him with a perfect view and little resolve to deny her. Richard shook his head while staring at Dior’s perfect frame.
This ain’t no kind of right, Pastor, he said to himself the minute he stepped into her house. Get her out of your system now. It’s not too late to turn back.
“I can tell you don’t want to be here so I’ll make it fast,” Dior said, motioning for him to take a seat on the sofa. She sat catty-corner on the love seat then slowly crossed her legs. “You’re strange, Richard. This is strange. And when I think about you, it makes me feel strange.”
You think about me? Wow! “I don’t get it. You think about me? Why? About what?” he asked, amid a pack of other questions.
“This isn’t about stroking your ego, but I dig you and I sense you’re feeling me too. If I’m wrong then maybe you should go right now, act like I never brought it up.” She leered at him, to heighten his dilemma. Don’t even fix your mouth to say goodbye to me.
Richard shifted his weight uncomfortably on the sofa. It’s not like I’m in a hurry to go either, he thought. “I’d be lying if I said you’ve read me the wrong way. Yes, your body is amazing, you’re a beautiful woman, and I am very attracted to you. Equally so, I feel just as strange when I lie in bed thinking about you.” I know I didn’t just admit to that.
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