Ida really wished he would stop with the “old man” business. She should tell him, but didn’t want to remind him that she was only two years younger than he. “You have nothing to apologize for. I offered to lend you money for the clinic. There is no shame in accepting help, Sammy. I want to help you. As a matter of fact, my banker in New York is waiting for me to call him with your banking information. I called him on the ride over.” She was so proud of herself, she beamed. For once she’d taken the initiative, grabbed the bull by the horns, whatever one called it, and she’d made a decision on her own concerning a man. Sammy hadn’t begged or bribed her. This was simply the right thing to do. If not for the Center for Mind and Body she wouldn’t be sitting here right now. The way she figured it, she owed Sammy and the clinic her life. If not for his medical knowledge and kind, caring ways, she would still be holed up in a room somewhere scrubbing her hands and worrying about dying from some unknown germ.
He appeared to be genuinely shocked by her generous offer. “I still don’t know what to say . . . you don’t have to do this, Ida. How can I ever repay you? This is such a large sum of money, it could take years before I am able to pay this back to you.”
Ida almost wished he had declined her offer, though she wasn’t sure why. It didn’t matter anyway. Now all she had to do was write down his banking information, and it was as good as done.
“Consider this a gift, a donation to the clinic if you will. I’ll have my accountant take care of all the necessary forms. All you have to do is accept this and give me your banking information.”
He shook his head. “Bless you, Ida. You’re a true angel, you know that? I will make sure your generosity is known to my patients. Here.”
He reached inside his pocket and removed a slip of paper. “This has everything you should need to wire the funds to the account.”
That was fast, Ida thought. He must have known she was going to give him the money. Why else would he have the information ready to give her? Maybe she’d hinted at it on the phone? She couldn’t remember, and it didn’t matter. She’d made an offer to help with the center’s finances, and now she would follow through on that commitment.
She took the paper from him. “This may take a few minutes.”
“Of course, I’ll leave you to make your phone call. When you’re finished, maybe we will have lunch, then we can . . . visit.” Sammy gazed at the bed when he said they could “visit.” Ida smiled; she wouldn’t mind a “visit” either.
“I’ll just need a few minutes,” she said.
Sammy took her hand in his, kissing her wrist, then the palm. Yes, she was definitely ready for a “visit” with Sammy. She’d gotten used to having a fulfilling sex life with him over the past few months. He was a very skilled and patient lover. There was no need to stop now simply because they were business partners.
“I’ll leave you to make your call,” Sammy said.
Ida dialed Russ’s private number at the bank in Manhattan. When he answered, she skipped the niceties and got straight down to business. “These are the numbers,” she said, then rattled off the bank’s routing number, the account number, and a tax identification number. “Is there anything else?”
“This seems to be everything; if not, may I call you back?” Russ asked.
Ida must have scared him with her threat to take her business to another bank. “Of course. Now how long will this take before the money can be withdrawn?”
“No more than forty-eight hours.”
“Good. Thank you, Russ.” Ida punched the END button on her cell phone. She couldn’t wait to tell Sammy that the money would be the clinic’s in forty-eight hours. She waited for ten minutes, allowing him time to return. When twenty minutes passed, Ida went in search of him. She peered out into a small, well-lit hallway. There were three other bedrooms in the house, one of them belonging to Amala, though Ida had never been inside the young woman’s room.
Ida had spent most of her time in Sammy’s bed. That was fine with her; it was precisely where she wanted to be. She peered inside the two other bedrooms. The first one had a computer desk, a chair, and a laptop. There wasn’t a bed or a night table, nothing to indicate that the room was used for anything other than a home office. Ida closed the door. Across from the office was another bedroom. She tapped on the door before opening it, then when there was no answer she peeked inside the room hoping to find Sammy. The room had an air mattress on the floor, an inexpensive lamp placed on a stack of what looked like thick medical books. Odd, she thought. Why wouldn’t Sammy have a bed in what she assumed to be a guest room? She stepped fully inside the room, more out of curiosity than anything. A canvas bag lay open on top of the blue mattress. Ida wanted to look inside, but that wasn’t her style. She’d already nosed around in areas that were obviously off-limits, or the doors would have been open. She left the guest room, again being careful to close the door behind her quietly.
Around the corner and to the left of the office and guest room, Ida spied the door to Amala’s room. It was open. Sure that Sammy was inside, she started to step inside, then stopped dead in her tracks. She closed her eyes for a minute, then opened them again. Ida was sure she wasn’t seeing things, but this?
Sammy held several pairs of women’s panties in his hands. Pale blue, a lacy white G-string, and a red-and-black pair. The red-and-black pair that she’d thought she’d misplaced months ago!
Oh my God! Ida was rooted to the floor, shocked, as she watched Sammy bring each pair of sexy underwear to his nose, inhaling each pair as though he were smelling a fine wine. When he brought her red-and-black pair up to his nose, he kissed the crotch, then took a big whiff of the same area.
Ida turned away so fast she became instantly dizzy. She raced back to Sammy’s bedroom, unsure of what to do. She sat on the bed and took several deep, calming breaths. She swallowed several times. Her mouth was as dry as a bone. Ida was in the bathroom getting a drink of water when she heard Sammy enter the bedroom.
“Ida, dear, are you in here?”
God almighty!
What to do? Act, Ida, you stupid ass. Act like you’ve never acted before.
She cleared her throat and took a sip of water before calling out to Sammy. “In here. I’ll just be a minute.”
“Wonderful. I’ll be waiting for you.”
Ida was screwed, or as Sophie and Toots would say, she was fucked. Yes, she liked the sound of that. She was fucked. Big-time. Now, if she could manage to get through the next few minutes without alerting Sammy that she knew his dirty little secret, then she might start a new career as an actress. At least a grade-B one. She opened the door and stepped back into the bedroom, where Sammy lay on top of the bed completely nude touching himself in places that she’d touched him.
Oh God, this was much worse than she thought!
“Sammy,” Ida said loudly. He yanked his hand away from his privates.
“My dear, as you can see, I can hardly hold myself back. I want to make love to you right now. Take off your clothes, Ida.”
She wasn’t sure what to do! Part of her was turned on by the sudden turn of events, another part of her was mortified. What the hell, she thought. She might as well go for broke.
She stripped off her navy blouse, kicked her shoes aside, and removed her capris. Down to her pale pink bra and panties, Ida suddenly had a flash of Sammy as he’d stuck his nose on the silky undergarments, inhaling deeply as though he were on oxygen. She kept her bra and panties on. She couldn’t go through with this knowing what she knew.
“Sammy, I am not feeling well. Would you mind if we didn’t make love? I’ve been feeling . . . dizzy.” That was an understatement.
“You would leave me like this?” He nodded downward.
“I’m sorry. Can’t you just relieve yourself? You seemed to have no trouble doing so a few minutes ago.” Ida felt her face flame with embarrassment. Never, ever in her sixty-five years had she been so humiliated!
With a wicked grin, Sammy sai
d, “I suppose, but only if you will watch me.”
Eyes widened in horror, Ida raced out of the room, not bothering to stop for her clothes. She ran outside to the deck, where Amala and Mohammed were in a heated conversation.
They stopped when they saw her. To say that both of them appeared surprised would be putting it mildly. Shocked, maybe. Ida didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything. She just stood there in her silky pink bra and panties while Mohammed ogled her. “Stop staring at me like that, you . . . pervert!”
“Amala, do you have a robe or something I can use to cover myself?” Ida asked.
“Sure.” She stood up. “I’ll be right back.”
Ida held her head high as Mohammed continued to rake his gaze over her nearly naked body. “Not bad, old woman, not bad at all. No wonder the good doctor likes fucking you.” He smiled at her, a depraved look on his olive-skinned face. She wanted to run and hide, cover herself, but Ida was sophisticated enough to know that doing so was exactly what he would expect her reaction to be, so she stood there, letting him gaze at her.
Feeling more brazen than she should, Ida spoke up. “Do you like what you see?” God, she was going to hell in a handbasket for sure!
“As I said, not bad for an old broad,” Mohammed stated.
Amala reappeared with a robe. Grinning, she said, “This should help.”
Ida took the robe from her, thankful to have something to cover herself. She wrapped herself up in a short yellow terry-cloth robe that smelled of incense and cigarettes.
“Not that it is any of my business, but why don’t you just go inside and put your clothes back on?” Amala asked.
Ida didn’t know what to say, so she said the first thing that popped into her head. “You’re right, it isn’t any of your business.” There was no way she would tell them that she was waiting for Sammy to . . . finish up.
God, she had made a real mess of things! No, Sammy was the one responsible for this mess, quite literally if he finished off what the panty smelling had started.
Not caring what they thought of her actions, Ida raced inside and headed to the bedroom. If Sammy wanted to . . . fondle himself, that was his business. She would die and burn in hell before she ever came back to this house of horrors again. Sophie and Toots were right. She let men rule her.
That’s when she remembered the $3 million she had just arranged to transfer into Sammy’s bank account! Ida stopped so quickly her brain jostled the inside of her skull. What had she done? What kind of man borrowed $3 million from a woman, then played . . . pocket pool afterward?
Ida was shocked at herself and shocked that she’d been so stupid not to see what was right in front of her face all along. Sammy had simply been using her for sex while preparing to bilk her out of a small fortune. Stupid and ashamed didn’t begin to describe the way she felt.
She figured she’d waited long enough for Sammy to take care of business. She zipped back to his room and found her clothes where she’d left them. She dressed, spotting her purse next to her cell phone. She looked around the room, making sure she hadn’t left anything behind. That’s when she remembered her black-and-red panties in the other room. Brazen beyond her wildest dreams, Ida hurried back to Amala’s room, saw the pile of silken underclothes on the bed. She spotted her missing drawers, snapped them up, and put them in her purse. Not caring if she ran into Sammy or not, she hurried outside and literally ran all the way to the end of the road. When she stopped long enough to catch her breath, she called a cab.
“How long?” she asked.
“Fifteen minutes,” they replied.
“Thanks.”
Ida sat down on the curb to wait for her ride. Crushed and hurt, Ida paid no attention to the cars cruising by, and no one seemed to notice an old woman crying her eyes out. With her nose running and her eyes saturated with tears, she opened her purse to search for a tissue. When she couldn’t find one, she thought, “Fuck it,” and blew her nose on the panties Sammy had just sniffed.
Chapter 21
“George has asked me to go away for the weekend,” Mavis told them. “I don’t know what to do.”
They were all gathered around the kitchen table discussing the day’s events while Mavis cooked another healthy meal for all of them. Tonight’s menu consisted of poached salmon, steamed asparagus, and an arugula salad with lemon juice.
Toots set the table with her new royal-blue dishes. Sophie made a fresh pot of coffee, but Ida hadn’t volunteered to do anything but sit and stare out at the ocean. At the mention of George, she perked up. “Tell him no, whatever you do,” Ida said.
“Don’t listen to her, Mavis. She’s just jealous because you’ve met a rich man, and she hasn’t,” Sophie said.
Toots put paper napkins beside each plate. “If you two start up again, I swear I’m going to drag both of you out to the beach and hold you under until you’re gasping for air.”
“Damn, you’re a cruel bitch. Last night she threatened to throw me down the staircase. Today you want to drown me. If you weren’t postmenopausal, I’d swear you had a massive case of PMS. Or maybe you just need to get laid. Yes, I’m sure that’s what it is,” Sophie said, offering up her usual two cents’ worth.
Toots finished setting the table, turned around so she could look at Sophie. “Do you have to talk about sex now? We’re getting ready to eat.”
Sophie cackled. “I won’t say what I’m really thinking, but yes, I like to talk about sex. And yes, Ida, I know you’re getting laid on a regular basis, but I still like talking about sex, and, no, I don’t give a hoot if I ever have it again. I simply like to see the expressions on your faces when I talk about it. Ida, you might want to start taking pictures, them being worth a thousand words and all.”
“Girls, I am serious. I need your advice. George has invited me to his place in La Jolla. I didn’t ask, but I am sure he’ll want to get . . . romantic.” Mavis placed the bowl of arugula in the center of the table.
“Screw what he wants, what do you want?” Sophie asked. “Men never give a good rat’s ass about what we want. It’s always about them and what they want. Right, Toots?”
“Why are you asking me?” Toots said.
Sophie rolled her eyes upward. “You’re the most experienced woman among the four of us. I’m sure you can help Mavis.”
“Yes, Toots, not that I think you’re a . . . well, you know, I don’t think you’re a tramp or anything, but you do have a lot of experience with men.” Mavis lifted the lid on the steamer, poked the asparagus with a fork, then put the lid back on.
“Okay, since you all seem to think I’m the resident expert on the male species, what do you want to know, Mavis?”
Mavis washed her hands, dried them on a kitchen towel, then faced Toots. “He said he’d recently been measured for a VCD. I have no idea what that is, but I think it might be some sex toy or something.” Mavis’s faced turned ten shades of red. “I guess what I want to know is if any of you girls know what that is.”
The kitchen was silent except for the hiss of the steamer and the bubbling of simmering water where four thick slices of salmon were poaching. All eyes were on Toots.
Toots held up her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
Mavis, Ida, and Sophie watched as she raced up the stairs. Less than a minute later she was back with her laptop.
“What are you doing with that?” Ida asked.
“Patience, Ida.” Toots quickly booted up the computer and on to her Internet service provider. “I can find out anything you want to know. I’ll Google it. Now I’m ready.” Toots sat at the head of the table, waiting for Mavis. “Okay, Mavis. Shoot.”
“I’m sure he said VCD.”
Toots ran her hands along the keyboard, stopped while waiting for her search results to appear on the screen. “Oh.”
“What? Is it something bad?” Mavis asked. Her face was white, and her now-slender hands gripped the dishcloth like a life preserver. Coco, sensing something was wrong wit
h her mistress, ran from her corner in the kitchen, sliding to a stop at Mavis’s feet.
“Grrr.” Coco made herself known.
“I don’t think ‘bad’ is the proper word.” Toots glanced up at Mavis, who looked like she was ready to faint. “It’s not bad, it’s just . . . well, let me read what it says.”
“Okay,” Mavis said.
Toots found her reading glasses tucked in her skirt pocket. “‘VCD, a Vacuum Constriction Device, is an external pump with a band on it that a man with erectile dysfunction can use to get and maintain an erection . . .’”
Toots looked up. She had never seen her three friends so . . . entranced. She continued reading. “‘The VCD consists of an acrylic cylinder with a pump that may be attached directly to the end of the . . . man part.’ And before you ask, Sophie, no, that is not the word they used. ‘A constriction band is placed on the cylinder at the other end, which is applied to the body. The cylinder and pump are used to create a vacuum to help the . . . man part become erect while the band ring is used to maintain the erection . . .’”
Toots removed her glasses. “Well, ladies, I think that gives us a pretty good idea of what VCD stands for.”
The room was deathly quiet, then exploded with laughter when Sophie removed her hand from her mouth. Toots laughed, then looked at Ida, whose shoulders shook like a hula dancer’s while she struggled not to laugh too loudly. Mavis was catatonic. Her mouth moved, but nothing came out. She reminded Toots of the spirits upstairs.
“Mavis.” Sophie snapped her fingers in front of Mavis’s face. When she didn’t get a reaction, Sophie filled a small cup with water, tossing it directly in Mavis’s face.
Mavis spit and sputtered back to life. “That was a mean thing to do, Sophie! Why did you do that?” Mavis wiped her face with the kitchen towel she still held in a death grip.
“You left us for a minute. I was helping you return. I think you should sit down,” Sophie said, pulling out a chair, helping Mavis sit down.
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