Morgan was almost afraid to speak, fearing she would break the magic spell Myra had just cast, afraid Myra would change her mind. “Myra, baby, what are your plans now?” she hesitantly asked
This time, Myra lit two of her cigarettes and handed one to her acknowledged lover. “I’m going to stop living a lie. I’m going to tell Michael and Kim how I feel about them, and about you. Openly and honestly and candidly. Not today, maybe not this week. Very soon, though. And then, I’m going to move out of the condo. I’d like to live with you and Mom, if you’ll have me.
“I know Michael is going to be devastated. I don’t want to hurt him or Kim any more than is necessary, but I don’t want to live without you a single day longer than I have to, Morgan. I don’t want to lie in bed at night pining for you. I want to fall asleep in your arms every night and wake up in your arms every morning—not just whenever I can sneak away from Michael and Kimberly for a few stolen hours or manage to shuffle them out of town for a night.
“When the time is right, I’ll tell Kim first. I don’t think she’ll be disappointed. Disappointed, hell. She’ll be thrilled to death that she can have Michael all to herself. Between the two of us, we’ll find a way to break the news to Michael in a way that will cause him the least amount of pain. He’s already managed to accept the fact I wanted sex with Kim, so, at least on a subliminal level, he must realize he hasn’t been satisfying me. Michael’s masculine pride will be bruised for a while, but Kimberly will help him forget. In a few months, I’ll be nothing more to Michael than fading pictures in a photo album, a vague memory of one phase of his life.
“There’s more. Right after breakfast, I’m going to throw all my bras in the trash can. I’ve always hated the damned things and I’ll never wear one again. Then, you and I are going to go out to a mall. We’ll shop till we drop! I want you to take me to where you get your clothes. I’m going to buy the skimpiest miniskirts and the lowest-cut blouses and tightest sweaters I can find. I’m tired of dressing like a schoolmarm. I want to look as sexy and desirable as you, Morgan. I want you to be proud to be seen with me. I’ll never hide our relationship in a closet. I want people to know we’re lovers, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it is, Myra.” Morgan was absolutely thrilled.
“Today, I’m going to treat you to lunch. I’m going to order either a B-L-T or a ham sandwich. I haven’t decided which yet. I realize I’ve even been hypocritical about my religion. It’s no more possible to be partially observant of kashrut than it is to be a little bit pregnant. If I can eat lobster and steamed clams and everything else that isn’t kosher, and if I can have meat and dairy products at the same meal, it’s stupid of me to stubbornly refuse to eat pork.
“After lunch, I’m going to get my hair cut. Short. Very short. Maybe not quite as short as yours, but short. Do you realize how many hours I waste each week trying to keep up with this stringy mess? Maybe I’ll even color what’s left of it bright red. Would you like that, Morgan?”
“Yeah,” she grinned lecherously. “I’ve always wanted to have a redheaded sweetheart.”
“When Michael and Kimberly get home, they’re going to find a new Myra. Will they ever be surprised!”
Morgan shook her head up and down. “They sure will, Myra. They sure will,” she agreed.
Twenty-Nine
KIMBERLY SAT UP IN BED and lit a cigarette. She’d always wondered what people who don’t smoke do after having sex. On this occasion, nothing. A little afterplay would have been more than welcome, but Michael was hell-bent on rushing back to Las Vegas and had hopped out of bed and into the shower as soon as they finished making love.
The moment Kimberly inveigled herself into the Kaplan bed she started making plans to ease Myra out. She felt the more she and Michael were intimate without Myra, the more Michael would desire her and her alone. However, Kimberly also knew she had to pretend to support the ménage, for now, and to cautiously carry out her machinations to destroy Michael’s marriage, so neither Michael nor Myra would think she was scheming to have him all to herself—which was precisely what Kimberly had been doing from the first day she and Michael met.
Kimberly tried her best to convince Michael to extend their stay in Laughlin. “We’re already here, baby,” she cooed persuasively, massaging his shoulders as she spoke. “The weather’s much warmer than it is in Vegas and I’d like to lounge around the pool for a few hours. You can review one restaurant at lunch and another at dinner. Tonight we can see the group that’s playing in the Steamboat Casino’s lounge. I hear they’re great. Please, baby. Let’s stay. Just one more night. Myra won’t mind if we’re gone another night. I’m sure of it. Let’s call and tell her.”
Michael’s answer had been an adamant no. Kimberly was able to delay their departure a few hours by having room service bring them breakfast in bed. And after they ate, she’d fondled and teased Michael and worked him up until he was so hot and bothered he finally phoned the front desk for a late checkout, so they could make love one more time before heading home.
Michael stepped from the bathroom, a large terry cloth towel wrapped around his waist. “I’m out of the shower now, Kim. It’s all yours,” he hinted unsubtly. “You’d better hurry. We have to check out in half an hour.”
Kimberly finished her cigarette and lethargically eased from beneath the covers. “I don’t know why you’re in such a damn hurry to get back to Las Vegas, Michael,” she fussed. “It may be a long time before there’s another opportunity for just the two of us to make love.
“Don’t get me wrong. I like having sex with Myra. Making out with her is a delightful delicacy. A refreshing change of pace. That’s what makes it so stimulating. But frankly, Michael, I’m getting jaded. Our threesomes have become too much of a good thing, if you’ll excuse the tired cliché. In fact, if Myra didn’t enjoy doing me so much, I could just as easily forgo the bisexual aspect of our ménage altogether. When you and I make love one-on-one it’s much more meaningful to me. There’s nothing Myra can do for me that you can’t do better, Michael.”
One of Michael’s eyebrows arched. “Oh? I thought the ménage was your bright idea.”
Kimberly lit another cigarette. Michael’s been living in a dream world, and I’m going to bring him down to earth. “It was,” she nodded. “You were married and refused to have an affair with me. The ménage was my last resort to get you into bed. Michael, if you only knew how much I hungered for your love—”
“And that’s why you seduced Myra that first night we were in Cancun?” There was a tinge of bitterness in his voice.
Kimberly laughed wickedly. “Is that what you think? That I seduced Myra?”
“Well, when the lightning and thunder woke me up, you were lying on top of her doing your thing.”
“Oh, Michael. You should have awakened half an hour earlier. You would have seen Myra all over me like white on rice. No, I didn’t seduce your wife. That afternoon in Cancun, when you went upstairs to the villa to make popcorn, Myra told me she wanted my body so badly she could taste it. I agreed to let her—figuratively and literally. True, I was curious, and Myra’s proposition made me excruciatingly horny. It had been so long since I’d had sexual release that I was nothing but a bundle of raw nerves.
“Besides, it was unfinished business for us, Michael. Sooner or later, Myra and I were going to have sex. We explained that to you. Aren’t you glad we did it in front of you, instead of behind your back? We really turned you on that night, didn’t we, baby?”
“I suppose so,” Michael mumbled.
It’s time to let Michael know which cow ate the cabbage, Kimberly decided. “Myra and I had a deal, Michael. I told her she could have me if she’d let me fuck you. She agreed without a moment’s hesitation.”
Michael weighed that revelation over in his mind for a moment. He had been bartered by both Myra and Kimberly. One piece of meat had been exchanged for another. “And I had nothing to say about the matter?” he asked, but knew the answ
er.
Kimberly shrugged. “Absolutely nothing. Sure, you could have turned me down. But you didn’t. I knew you wouldn’t. And so did Myra.”
Michael kept staring at his watch. Kimberly kept making statements he didn’t want to hear. “We’d better hurry. Myra’s invited Morgan over for dinner tonight. We don’t want to be late.”
“That’s really why you’re in such a rush, isn’t it, Michael? Morgan. You know Myra is attracted to her and you’re afraid if they spend too much time together they’re going to fall into bed.” Kimberly decided to start planting seeds of doubt in Michael’s mind. There would be plenty of time to fertilize and cultivate them in the coming days.
He hemmed and hawed. “That had occurred to me.”
“Well, maybe Myra’s already had sex with Morgan. If they wanted to sleep together, they had all last night to do it.”
Michael frowned. “I thought you said we didn’t need to worry about Morgan because Myra is thoroughly committed to our ménage.”
“I did say that, and that’s what I thought at the time. Now I’m not so sure. Ever since they met, all Myra can talk about is Morgan. Morgan’s so beautiful. Morgan dresses so chic. Morgan’s so much fun. Morgan this and Morgan that. Myra’s definitely infatuated with the woman. Probably a helluva lot more.”
Kimberly angrily smashed her cigarette butt into the ash tray and stormed toward the bathroom. “Who knows?” she spat out. “After I meet Morgan, maybe I’ll want to fuck her, too.”
MYRA AND MORGAN worked together preparing a sumptuous feast. A seven-bone prime rib was roasting in the oven, nearly done to a perfect medium rare. The au jus had been drained, the melted fat skimmed off. Salad greens were crisping in the refrigerator, ready for a topping of homemade Roquefort dressing. Idaho potatoes were boiling, with sweet butter, milk, salt, and seasoned pepper set out on the marble counter, ready to be added when the potatoes were smooshed. Creamed spinach was finished and being kept warm in the top of a double boiler.
Myra peeled fresh horseradish root, then grated it in her food processor. She whipped heavy cream until it was so stiff it nearly turned into butter. She added a pinch of salt, and stirred in the horseradish.
There would be iced tea to drink during the meal, Starbucks coffee afterwards. For dessert, Myra whipped more cream, adding powdered sugar and a whiff of vanilla. It would be served on ladyfingers covered with a mound of chunky applesauce, the whipped cream dusted with ground cinnamon.
“I’m going to take a quick shower and get into my new clothes,” Myra said. “Want to join me?”
“I’d love to,” Morgan replied. “But—what if Michael and Kimberly come home and find us in the shower together? Won’t they be suspicious? I don’t want you to get in trouble.”
Myra grimaced. “I suppose you’re right. Okay, I’ll shower in my bathroom and you can use the one in the guest bathroom. I’ll be in and out, anyway. I can’t leave the kitchen for long. Everything’s almost ready. I just hope Michael and Kim get here soon. If they don’t, dinner will be ruined.”
“I’ll wait to shower and change. I want to help you with your makeup,” Morgan said.
As promised, Myra did not dally in the water. When she stepped out of the shower, she was surprised to see Morgan standing nearby holding her towel, waiting to dry her off. “You’re going to spoil me, Morgan. I can see that already.”
Myra slipped into black pantyhose, a green and white silk blouse cut so low that her nipples were occasionally displayed, and a kelly green miniskirt so small it could be folded up and hidden in a man’s shirt pocket. Her matching kelly green pumps had four-inch spiked heels.
“Green’s definitely your color now, girlfriend,” Morgan complimented. “It goes great with your hair. Your stylist did a fantastic job.”
Myra’s hair had been dyed flaming red and streaked with metallic copper hair mascara. It was sharply tapered up the back and on the sides. A short tuft on top resembled a clump of crimson grass. Myra’s acrylic nails were coated with ebony black polish, decorated with geometric patterns in copper to match the streaks in her hair.
While Morgan was using a tiny camel’s-hair brush to apply Myra’s eyeliner and lip gloss, also in metallic copper, Myra caressed Morgan’s full buttocks. “You’d better stop playing with my buns right this minute, Myra,” Morgan cautioned, not entirely facetiously. “If you don’t, we’ll never make it past your bed.”
When Morgan finished, Myra stood in front of a full-length mirror and examined herself critically. The red hair complimented her olive skin. Between the high heels and the punk-type outcropping of hair on top, Myra appeared to be extremely leggy and well over six feet tall. The high heels also shifted her balance, throwing out her derriere and bust, making them appear considerably larger and more shapely. She was quite satisfied with her new image, but wanted a second opinion. “Well, Morgan, what do you think?”
“Girl, I’ve never seen anyone who looked so fine!” Morgan said admiringly. “You’re absolutely awesome! Michael’s gonna fall in love with you all over again and that’s gonna make me terribly jealous.”
“We’ll see,” Myra replied cautiously.
Myra returned to the kitchen and Morgan disappeared into the guest bedroom. Soon, Myra heard water running and knew Morgan had stepped into the shower. A rumble of footsteps on the outside stairway followed by the click of a key in the front door lock told her Michael and Kimberly were home. She walked from the kitchen to the living room to greet them.
Michael entered first, followed immediately by Kimberly. He stopped dead in his tracks, then stood agape. “Holy shit!” he hollered. “What happened to you? For a minute there, I thought I was in the wrong house!”
Myra smiled and pirouetted. “Do you like my new look, Michael?” She observed Kimberly raise a hand to cover her mouth. She didn’t know whether Kim was awestruck or wanted to conceal a laugh.
“It’s … it’s … it’s different, I’ll say,” Michael answered. “Halloween won’t be here for months. Are you dressed for a costume party at the Blue Hawaii or something?”
Myra was no longer smiling. “No. I told you. This is my new look. It’s very stylish—and, very expensive. I shopped at the Forum Shops at Caesars Palace this afternoon and bought a whole new wardrobe.” She was glad she’d signed for her purchases on Michael’s charge card.
“You, uh, you forgot to put on a bra.”
“I didn’t forget. I threw away all my bras this morning. I no longer own one. If seeing my breasts bothers you, stop gawking at them.”
“Your hair … er, that red thing is a wig, isn’t it? How does it manage to cover up all of your own beautiful hair?”
“I’m not wearing a wig. You’re looking at my ‘own beautiful hair.’ I had it cut and styled—and dyed.”
“Ohmygod,” Michael gulped. Kimberly had yet to say a word.
Myra stood with her hands on her hips. “Well, I’m waiting—”
“I suppose I can get used to it,” Michael grunted. “In time, your hair will grow out. You can’t possibly be planning on wearing that slutty get-up to work, though, can you? Your boss wouldn’t be able to tell you from the hookers who cruise the casino.” He regretted making the statement as soon as the words left his lips, even before he noticed the torment on Myra’s face.
“I think you look absolutely fabulous,” Kimberly gushed insincerely. “I wish I could wear a sexy outfit like that, but my boobs are too big and so are my hips and thighs.”
“Yes, they certainly are,” Myra agreed cattily. “Please put away your suitcases and get ready for dinner. Everything’s ready.” She spoke through a clenched jaw.
“What about your friend Morgan?” Kimberly asked. “Shouldn’t we wait for her to get here?”
“Morgan’s already here. She’s in the guest room getting dressed. She’ll be out in a few minutes. Morgan spent the night with me. She kept me company while the two of you were partying in Laughlin.”
That was the last thing Mich
ael wanted to hear. “Morgan slept here with you last night?”
“Yes. In our guest bedroom. It was the first time anyone’s ever slept in that bed.” Myra was sorely tempted to boast that both of them were in the bed and neither of them got much sleep, but she held her tongue.
Michael belatedly remembered to kiss Myra hello. The kiss was perfunctory. “What’s that smell?” he asked, sniffing the air.
At last, Myra thought, Michael’s found something to compliment me about. The food. “Prime rib. I’ve made a special dinner for you and Kim tonight. Morgan helped me. We’ve been cooking most of the afternoon. Prime rib, mashed potatoes, creamed spinach—”
Michael shook his head. “No, not that odor. The other odor. What you’re wearing. Did a salesclerk at the mall spray you with a sample of cheap perfume? You smell like you’ve been in a brothel.”
Myra was totally disgusted by Michael’s profusion of crass comments. “I applied a dab of Morgan’s perfume. She always wears it, and I love the scent. It turns me on.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “I wasn’t aware you had become an expert on the way whorehouses smell, Michael, darling.”
Michael and Kimberly carried their bags into the master bedroom. As soon as they were inside, Morgan bounced through the guest bedroom door. Morgan was wearing the same outfit as Myra, except hers was in purple. Myra had bought it for Morgan as a gift.
Morgan saw Myra using a tissue to wipe a few drops of moisture from her eyes. She draped an arm around Myra’s shoulders to comfort her. “Are you gonna be all right, Myra?”
“Michael doesn’t like the new me,” Myra whimpered. “He thinks I look like a whore.”
“I know, baby. I heard everything. Michael’s just not used to your new look yet. Don’t let him get you down. You’re gorgeous,” Morgan consoled. “You’re so damn sexy you’re going to have to carry a can of pepper spray to keep the dogs at bay.”
A Time For Us (Michael Kaplan Mysteries) Page 21