The sky outside, though dark, was lit brightly by a beautiful full moon against a black canvas of twinkling fiery stars. It was a setting that went largely unnoticed by Yvette, who was laying on the cool sheets of her bed, deep in thought. Nothing seemed to add up. She knew Kurt felt deeply about her. She just could not account for his reserve nature. She had given him a reasonable window of opportunity to pour his heart out to her that afternoon, but even then he failed to seize the moment. Few women like being deprived of affection and adulation without a clear-cut reason why she is being emotionally neglected. Yvette felt no different.
Rising up from her bed she gathered her belongings and headed into her luxuriously and spacious ‘Niagara Falls’ shower room area. She actually had a 4”x 10” black Formica panel, engraved in gold script letters, and mounted above the entrance to her bathroom, saying just that. She had purchased it at a local flea market a week earlier.
Slipping out of her silk teddy, she put on her shower cap, then entered her Roman Garden tub, closing the shower curtains behind her. With very little effort, she bent down and reached for her all-natural body sponge, turned the shower on full throttle, after making a slight temperature adjustment, and grabbed a fresh bar of scented soap. There was one possibility, she thought as she lathered herself generously. Perhaps Kurt had something going on with that cute Latin doll he shamelessly brought to lunch that afternoon at Café Le Soir. And the nerve of him, she thought. Even if it was his date’s idea to come there. Surely, if he felt anything for her, he would have strongly suggested another restaurant. Perhaps this had been a blatant effort to make her jealous, she entertained.
Chapter 22
Morning came early for the unhappy millionaire. Looking out the ivy cloaked bay window Kurt took into full view the magnificent estate grounds he now called home. The view was awesome, breathtaking, and the landscape picture perfect. For a moment, he pondered how pleasing it must have been for Solomon and Bathsheba to wake up to the splendor of the lush and bountiful gardens of the Holy Land, day in and day out.
Though it was the beginning of a new day, it was old familiar thoughts of Yvette that now occupied his mind, as he gazed pensively over his two-acre kingdom, a kingdom with a king but no queen to share it with. After a quick shower and breakfast Kurt took off for work.
That evening, as he read the editorial page of the daily, his phone rang. It was a collect call from his stepsister, Trish. And from the sound of her voice, she was high.
“Hello Brother,” she said cheerfully. “How yuh doing? You know, yuh can call me sometimes.” Trish made sure she emphasized the word can.
“Hi, Trish,” Kurt replied with guarded reserve. “I’m sorry I haven’t been in contact. But I’ve been rather busy, lately.”
Without hesitation, she replied, her voice heavy with sarcasm, “Look brother, I’m yuh sister. You should never be too busy for me.”
“You’re right, Trish, but you know, you are not an easy person to catch up with.”
Trish sighed, then said, “Yeah, I heard yuh were looking for me the last time yuh were up this way.”
“That’s true,” he replied. “But you’re never at home.”
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Trish asked in a grudging voice. “Are yuh trying to say I stay in the streets, or some’n?” This statement, along with her agitated tone, made him think of past conversations they had indulged in which often turned into heated arguments, and a shockwave passed through him, and then went away.
“Trish, please let’s not argue,” he pleaded. “I’m sure you called me for a reason other than this.”
“Other than what?” She retorted. “Look, I called just to see how yuh were doing, since yuh can never seem to call me. I guess now that yuh’r Mr. Big shot millionaire, yuh don’t have time for yuh’r sister.”
“Look, Trish, you know that’s not true,” he shot back. “And furthermore, how can you say these things about me after all that I have tried to do for you?”
“Yuh’r supposed to do for me, bro-ther,” she argued, accentuating the word brother. “I’m yuh’r sister.”
“Yes, I’m supposed to do for you, Trish,” he began to explained, then added, “but nowhere does it say I have to kiss your ass at the same time I’m assisting you.”
“Alright, Mr. Perfect one,” her voice stammered with bitterness. “Yuh would like to think yuh take care of everyone. Look, I don’t need yuh’r damn money.”
“Well, why do you constantly ask for it?” Kurt tried to keep the sudden anger out of his voice. He loved his sister dearly and missed that period of their lives when they enjoyed a loving relationship. But that was long before drugs got into the picture, along with her irrational mood swings.
“The hell with yuh Kurt,” Trish said, her voice a loud shrill. “I don’t have to put up with dis crap.” Her island accent always grew more pronounced whenever she was under the influence.
Fearing he could no longer keep his anger repressed, he finally said to his irate sibling, “Look, this conversation isn’t going anywhere. I love you, sis, but I have to go.” With that, he reluctantly hung up on her, though not before he heard her cussing up a storm in the background.
Roxanne poured her hot Maxwell elixir into her favorite coffee mug and added some cream to it. Stirring the steaming mix gently with a spoon, she was eager to get the high-energy boost one came to expect from liquid caffeine early in the morning. It had been nearly two weeks since she left Don and was slowly growing more comfortable with her new found freedom. For the first time in a long time, she was free to come and go, decide her daily routine, and see whomever she wanted to see without interference from her husband. But there was one slight problem; there was only one other man in her life now and that man was Kurt and to her dismay she had not been seeing a whole lot of him lately, nor as much as she expected.
Sure he kept in touch, but mostly by phone. What was up with him? She thought. This was certainly no way to treat a woman, especially an ex-fiancée, who was in dire need of a friend. Surely he still cared for her. Perhaps even longed for her. What all-American man wouldn’t, she dared to ponder? After all, had not she been serenaded countless times by admiring men on how young and beautiful she looked?
Just the other day she was hit on by a very handsome young buck, about mid-thirties, businessman-type. And the day before that it was the hotel security manager. But they did not matter to her. She had eyes for Kurt. It is from his month that she longed to hear how young and beautiful she was.
Kurt sipped the hot espresso and wondered what it was Vanessa wanted to talk to him about. She had been vague earlier when she called him at his job, only asking if he could drop by after work. He reasoned that she was having more plumbing problems at her motorhome. Fortunately he had his coveralls and tools in the trunk of the Corvette, just in case this was the problem.
Kurt watched Vanessa’s approach from the kitchen area. She was wearing a form fitting low-cut dress. A sudden shudder passed through him. There appeared to be a sexual tension not present there on previous visits. Though uneasy, he said nothing when she sat down beside him and took his hand into hers and fixed him with dark Latin eyes. Her eyes had always been one of her best features.
"Vanessa, may I ask what this is all about?" he said finally, probingly.
"Well, I hope I am not being too forward," she began, leaning confidentially toward him, "But you have no idea how much I've been thinking about you lately. I just can’t hold it in anymore. I get so lonely at times and to the point I think I'm going to go out of my mind over you. I keep telling myself, 'I have to let him know.' So, here it is…I am very attracted to you Kurt. And I mean I’ve got it bad for you."
Instinctively, he moved her hands gently away and stood up. To say that he was stunned by her revelation was an understatement. Few women had ever been as direct with him as she had been and it surprised him, making him awkwardly nervous. First, Roxanne…now, Vanessa. That it had never occurred to him e
arly on that Vanessa might actually become attached to him left him ill prepared for the moment at hand.
“Vanessa," he began, looking down into her dreamy eyes. "I am flattered. I really am. But I had no idea you felt this way about me."
Not normally a woman of desperation, she had no time for introspective analysis. She would have to work this out later, much later. Right now, it was time to throw caution to the wind. "Kurt, I've wanted you ever since the day you came over to help me out. Please tell me that you find me attractive.”
Conflicted, Kurt rested one hand on his hip and the other to his forehead as though in deep thought. What had he gotten himself into, he pondered?
"Vanessa, it is true that I find you very attractive. But we’re just friends. However, I admire your frankness.”
Walking over to a nearby easy chair, he propped himself down and sank back into it. Turning, he raised his eyes to meet hers, and said, “Look, we have had a lot of fun together. We've gone out together. And you’re a woman deserving of any man’s adulation, any man’s desire, Vanessa. But right now, the desire that I feel inside is for another.”
Rising up gracefully, she stepped to Kurt until she was close enough to ease her round bottom on his lap. Wrapping her arms loosely around his neck, she gazed into his handsome face and murmured, "Look, Kurt, what I’m talking about hasn’t a thing to do with love. But it does have a lot to do with desire.” With that she lowered her head and locked her raspberry painted lips on his and kissed him hungrily.
Kurt, knowing he could have taken her right then and there, wanted to do the right thing by her. He considered her a dear and valuable friend and he wanted to keep it that way. He could see that her eyes were stark in wanderlust. And he could feel her heart thudding wildly in her breasts.
After another round of wet kisses, he turned away from her. "Vanessa!" He bellowed, more forcefully, as she repositioned herself between his legs. "Please don't make this any harder than it has to be," he tried to reason.
Feeling drugged by his clean and manly scent, she appeared to be a woman possessed.
“Pleease Vanessa!” he pleaded, his hands in a defensive posture.
"I promise, I’ll only make it as hard as I need it to be,” she said, as her gaze slid downward, her hands taking liberty where dignified restraint once ruled the day.
“Please, please don’t touch me there,” he murmured weakly.
“Please, don’t make me beg for it," she came back, grinding her body against his. "Forgive me, but God, I need it and I need it baaad!”
Again, she pressed her open lips to his. The light aroma of her perfume helped to lower his fading resistance. For the first time, he felt that this might be one battle he could lose. But he was determined to find a way to avoid succumbing to her advances. Nothing he said or tried seemed to work, so far. It wasn’t a position he usually found himself in.
“I’m so horny! She purred, tugging at his zipper. “Please forgive me, but it's been a while for me."
Again, he attempted to back out of this situation but to no avail.
Like the tentacles of an octopus, her hands were everywhere, fondling him, the harsh uneven rhythm of her breathing sensuous and seductive. She was not making this easy for him.
"Vanessa, pleaseee! Just think about this for a minute!" he protested, as she left a trail of wet kisses along his muscular neck, her long slender fingers now struggling anxiously to unfasten his shirt buttons.
“I have!” she returned, exposing her breasts and panting like a tigress in heat. The moment her nipples brushed against his warm massive chest she felt them tingle from the contact. “Please, suck my nipples. Please baby. Suck them now!”
With great effort he escaped her clutch for the fourth time, his breathing heavy, his voice shaken. "Vanessa, listen to me. You'll regret this in the morning, believe me."
"Regret this!" Roxanne snapped, glancing down at his crotch, her breathing now heavy and rapid. "Look, I want you to take care of this itch I have...no strings attached. Please Kurt!"
"Listen, if this was under different circumstances, believe me when I say that I would not be putting up such a resistance," he replied. "Vanessa, I’m trying my best to do the right thing by you."
Her spirit dampened by his resolve, she paused, then rose up slowly in disbelief. With eyes narrow and averted, she sat down at the edge of the sofa. Disappointment registered across her face. Frustration continued to flow through her veins.
So this is what rejection feels like, she thought, having felt the sting of rejection for the first time in a long time. As far as she was concerned there was no man on earth she could not seduced, not even the Pontiff could escape her charming ways. She was as good a temptress as they make them. But Kurt was different than any other man she had ever met.
"Please do not take it personally," he quipped.
"Look, I want to apologize," she said tersely, feeling defeated. "I didn’t know about your other love interest. She must be a very special woman. I don’t know what's gotten into me. But I've been feeling kind of vulnerable lately. Right now I feel like a damn fool."
Moving over to her Kurt took her hands into his, saying, softly and tenderly, "Vanessa, I am flattered. I really am. Believe me, you have nothing to apologize for. Nothing at all. And you're definitely no one's fool. It's just that my path crossed with another’s long before I crossed paths with you. So, forget this ever happened. Hey, are we still friends?"
A trace of a smile soon replaced the sadness on her face. "God! You're so sweet, Kurt. You have such an uncanny ability to communicate your thoughts. Hell, you've just flat out turned down my advances, yet, in a way I don't feel at all rejected. That's why I am so crazy about you."
"Thank you," he smiled, zipping up his trouser and fixing his shirt. "Look, I have to leave now. But I promise to stay in touch from time to time, okay?"
"I know you will, Kurt," she beamed. “By the way, whoever she is, she’s a very lucky woman.”
“No, I’m the lucky one,” he said, easing into a smile. With that he planted a kiss on her cheek, rose to his feet, and departed.
Though he never admitted it to Vanessa, he had had a fantasy about her before, though she showed up in his dreams as Roxanne. Another thing he did not tell her was that she was only one wet kiss away from getting what she was after. He had felt that close to losing control.
The following morning he dressed and headed out to work with the events of the previous night fresh on his mind. By midday the skies had faded to storm gray. The workload inside was unusually light. Many clients had elected to stay home to prepare for an approaching category five hurricane, though it was reported to be sixteen hours away from landfall. For lunch, he went the fast food route. It was a decision he regretted later. The greasy fast food meal left his stomach unsettled. A stop at a local convenient store and some Tums brought relief, along with bottled water.
Returning to the office, he found Ms. Maria Lopez, his former client, waiting for him in the lobby area. Laying the magazine down, she rose up and greeted him. When they arrived in his office, she told him that she had received her GED. She also told him that she was employed at Tamara’s Lingerie Shoppe at the mall and that she had been thinking about him and wanted to know if he would mind dropping by to have lunch with her sometime. “Listen, I just want to treat you to lunch to show you my appreciation for the encouragement you gave me in pursuing my goals and for believing in me,” she professed. “I also received the $80,000 settlement stemming from my son’s father’s death. And guess what?” she asked, her tone suddenly buoyant. “I’m about to open my own fashion store within a month at a shop I’ve leased not far from the mall.”
She told him she had taken her fashion designs to several well-known seamstresses around town, as he had suggested, who thought she had a unique idea. Of those seamstresses, three were immediately commissioned to make the initial line of clothing.
Opening a manila envelope she pulled out several sketches a
nd handed them over to Kurt for his inspection. He scanned the gowns and especially the skimpily clad designs with great surprise and interest. “Maria, these are great!” He smiled, adding, “I am really impressed. You are definitely talented. I mean that. By the way, what will you call your line of fashion?”
With a toothy smile, she replied, “I’m calling my business Hoo-Chi Fashions and my line of clothing, Urban Fashion Wear. I am going to be big, baby. Big!”
Kurt’s smile widened in approval.
Bubbling with excitement, she continued. “There will be Hoo-Chi evening wear, Hoo-Chi beach wear, Hoo-Chi bridal wear, Hoo-Chi athletic wear, Hoo-Chi summer wear, Hoo-Chi office wear, that’s something the big bosses should like, Hoo-Chi Mama wear, and Hoo-Chi lingerie/nighttime wear. Like it or not, I’m bringing back Hoo-chi mania. What do you think?”
“I’m impressed,” Kurt resounded. “Just let me know when you plan on expanding. I want to make sure that I buy stock in your company.”
Lowering her gaze in a demure gesture, she smiled. “By all means, I will let you know.”
As before, on previous visits to his office, Maria had made sure that she was well dressed, and enticingly so, always mindful to show ample cleavage, especially since her bountiful globes have always been two of her finer assets. She was not at all shy about exploiting them to her advantage. She still had eyes for Kurt. It was only right that she give him a reason to have eyes for her.
Kurt gave the matter some thought but saw no reason why they could not meet for lunch and he told her so. He asked her to get back with him to see what they could arrange, in the near future. His positive response about her business plans, along with the lunch date, made her day, and she told him so. As he escorted her down a long florescent-lit corridor and into the lobby, the two briefly mentioned the impending hurricane and the buzz and excitement it had brought to the area. Not to worry, they assured one another. It would all blow over by the morning.
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