Anna Marie Sorenson's Secret Affair

by Lynn Young

  Anna Marie took a closer look at her reflection, and she began to see what George was talking about, seeing the subtle differences in her appearance. Her short hair lay around her head in light, feathery easy waves, and the reddish highlights added an exotic effect to her otherwise non-descript face. The light foundation did smooth out her face so that her features looked more even and defined, the subtle eye shadow emphasizing her gray eyes and the mascara making her Secret Affair 125

  lashes look longer and thicker so that it gave her eyes a sloe doe-eyed look. Her lips were also given the light touch. George had painted them with a pink that had a coral tinge to it and brushed faintly the same coloring on her cheeks, creating a peaches and cream effect.

  “I guess you’re right,” Anna Marie said, beginning to feel better. “I acquiesce to your more discerning artistic eyes, all of you.”

  An attendant pulled out a trolley that was full of bottles that were of all sizes.

  “And of course, then, you will want to maintain at home what our discerning eyes have recommended for you. But, today, we have a special for makeovers. For the haircut and highlights, facial and makeup, and the shampoos, conditioner, moisturizer, body pack, facial pack, and makeup package, we’ll give you a twenty-percent discount. That’ll be one thousand dollars.”

  Anna Marie swallowed and turned white, negating all of George’s peaches and cream

  effect, but docilely handed over her credit card.

  Bea then dragged Anna Marie to a boutique that a cousin of hers owned and catered to a high-end clientele. For close to an hour, she tried out garment after garment, many of which were shot down by Bea and the boutique owner.

  “Bea, at this rate, I might as well wear my pajamas to meet Dallas,” Anna Marie said peevishly. “What was wrong with the blue skirt? It would go well with the cream cashmere sweater. That would be warm incase it gets chilly in the city.”

  Bea perused the discarded garments that were strewn on the chairs. “They’re all wrong.

  They’re not exciting enough.”

  “But they were all fine.”

  “They’re all staid, something you would wear to meet your parents for dinner. And this man definitely is not your parent.”

  “But they’re me. I’m not a very exciting person.”

  Bea gave her an arched look. “Obviously this man finds something very exciting about you to have two all-nighters with you, and to have him call you from half way around the world to meet him to engage in what surely will be a third all-nighter.” Bea said to her cousin, “Now, Shirley, don’t you have something more eveningish, you know, more cocktail, something that a girl would wear when she walks into a lounge and all the men’s eyes go to her. Look at her, look Secret Affair 126

  at her body. It’s just crying out for something that shows what she’s been hiding under all her prim and proper attire.”

  “But you just had them put on my face the quiet, girl-next-door look at the salon,” Anna Marie pointed out.

  “Contrast, dear, contrast,” Bea said absently.

  Shirley narrowed her eyes and gave Anna Marie a long, hard inspection, slowly walking around her. “Yes. Yes, I think I’m beginning to see what you’re talking about, Bea. Quite frankly, I thought, at first, that they weren’t for her, but, now…” She let her words trail off as she walked to a rack and pulled out a pinkish-peach colored dress. “Try this on, dear.”

  Anna Marie looked at the dress dubiously. “What is that?”

  “It’s a dress, of course,” Bea said. She grabbed the dress and her friend’s arms and pushed her non-too gently back into the dressing room. “Put it on.”

  A minute later, Anna Marie said from the dressing room, “Uh, Bea, I don’t think this is right.”

  Bea pushed aside the curtain and gave her the once over. It was definitely not a dress that any nice girl wore to a dinner. The dress was skin tight, from the chest to her hips, molding her thighs down to her knees. The bodice pushed up Anna Marie’s large breasts and barely covered the globes so that they were practically falling out. Two wide straps that rose up from the side of her breasts and tied behind her neck held up the dress. The rest of it was quite fitted all the way down to the hem at the knees, molding her rounded buttocks and long thighs.

  “Yes, yes, that’ll do,” Bea said.

  “I can’t wear this,” Anna Marie protested. “I look like a tart.”

  Bea gave her sardonic look. “What’s the difference? Isn’t that how he treats you in bed?” Anna Marie twisted and examined her behind and the way her buttocks protruded in the dress. “It makes my butt look big.”

  “All he’ll think about is how many times he’ll be able to warm your tail. Come on, let’s get a look at you in the light.” Bea took Anna Marie’s arm and dragged her out in the store.

  “I can’t even walk in it, it’s so tight,” Ann Marie complained, stumbling a few times.

  “Take smaller steps, dear,” Shirley advised. “You’re supposed to anyway when you’re

  out on a date. I think I may have some shoes that will go with that.” She disappeared to the back Secret Affair 127

  of the store, and reappeared a few seconds later, holding sandals that had silver straps and very high heels. “Here, try these on.”

  Bea stood back to take in the whole effect. “Yes, that’s it,” she declared. She said to Shirley, “Now, that’s what we’ve been looking for.”

  Shirley nodded with agreement. “It’ll do the trick. The Navy guy will take one look at her and he won’t be able to keep his hands or his eyes off her.”

  “Bea, I’m not sure about this…” Anna Marie protested.

  Bea swept a hand at the mirror. “Look at you. Just look at yourself in the mirror. Now, you tell me that you think you should meet your sailor man in tailored slacks and striped shirt.” Anna Marie gasped when she took in the image of herself. With her made up face, short, highlighted hair, and the tight peach dress, she didn’t know the woman in the mirror. If the woman in the mirror were herself she certainly would not have her breasts be hanging out all over the place. Nor would she let her buttocks, their size she had always lamented, be sticking up in the air so that it wagged when she took a step.

  “Is that really me? I look like a wh…” Her face turned bright red as she cut off the rest of her sentence. A whore, Dallas had told her the last time. He had said that her body was made for a whore. And now, here she was, about to meet him, having all the appearance of a high-priced call girl.

  “You look gorgeous,” Bea said, smiling.

  “You’re a knockout,” agreed Shirley.

  Anna Marie raised her eyebrows with surprised pleasure. “Really? I do?” She began to see that the two women might have some point. She did look quite seductive with her short, reddish hair, subtle makeup that brought out her large gray eyes and creamy skin, and her voluptuous body packed into the skimpy dress. The pink-peach color of the dress set off the pale skin of her arms, shoulders and neck, lending a warm hue to her complexion.

  “You look like a pixyish Marilyn Monroe,” Bea suggested.

  “Yes, I think you’re right,” Anna Marie agreed. She shook her shoulders and watched the good portion of her breasts that rose out of the tight dress jiggle a little and tried not to be scandalized. She did giggle, though. “Here we go, Marilyn of the fairyland.”

  Of course, it was rather deflating, dressed to the ninth and dressed to kill, and drive in a tan Honda Accord that was over twenty years old and dulled by age and sun. But after putting a Secret Affair 128

  serious dent to her credit card with close to two thousand dollars, Anna Marie thought it prudent to forgo renting a more racy car to go with her new appearance, and accept the fact that a quiet, unassuming librarian couldn’t completely convert to the fast life in one day.

  It took nearly two hours to reach the Naval base in Alameda. As Dallas had instructed, she drove through the gates, which was possible because he had called in clearance for her with
security ahead of time. She parked the car in the parking lot designated for visitors and walked down the long pier, trying to ignore the looks of curiosity that she was receiving from the many Naval personnel who were walking briskly to their various destination, nervously hitching up her dress.

  She saw the ship that he told her he’d be in, a cruiser that held fighter planes. She went through another security post and waited. Ten minutes later, she saw Dallas come down from the ship, dressed in his Navy whites, carrying his gear. He looked just as she remembered him, so tall and lean and long legged, hard with muscles, broad shouldered, deadly attractive with his deadpan expression in the striking face. Devastating, she thought. He was simply devastating. As she watched him, she could feel her breath shortening with growing excitement and anticipation.

  And her body tightened as images of those large, long-fingered hands touching her came to her mind, those hands parting her thighs to him, and him thrusting heavily into her. She gave a violent shudder.

  He spotted her several yards away and raised his hand. Anna Marie hesitantly waived

  back. When he began to gesture to her, she at first did not know what he was trying to say. Then he mouthed, “Come on. Come on,” while swinging his arm in a wider arc.

  Unsure of herself, she began to walk towards him. Dallas stilled for a moment, swept his eyes over her. Even from a distance, she could see his face tightening. He began to walk towards her. Men around her and those who were watching from the ship began to whistle at her.

  Quickly, the whistles grew loud and raucous. She began to cringe, making her stumble. Then she straightened her back and continued to walk towards Dallas, trying to put some confidence in her steps. It was impossible to cringe properly in a dress that was barely there. The only option for her was to brazen it out.

  Dallas stopped when he was a few feet from her and gave her a slow, and very male, once over. He made no attempt to hide his intense interest as he lingered on her breasts. “Well, well, well, kitten,” he drawled.

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  Anna Marie had to force herself not to cross her arms across her chest, but she couldn’t help her hands from twisting. “Is it too much?” she asked anxiously.

  “Yeah, baby, it’s too much. But, then, with a body like yours, it’s always too much. It’s about time you dressed decently. Come here, honey, before I make a grab for you in front of these hundreds of bozos,” he commanded in a soft, harsh voice, the hard glitter in his eyes revealing that he was barely holding back his savage hunger.

  She stepped up to him and gave him a hasty chaste kiss on his lips.

  And then he did make a grab for her. Before she could step back, Dallas put his arms around her and pulled her tight to him, lowered his head to hers and covered her mouth in a long, hungry kiss. Anna Marie moaned as desire bloomed inside her again, kissing him back with equal hunger.

  Above them and around them, sailors whistled and catcalled. The noises became louder when Dallas gripped Anna Marie’s buttocks and began to fondle it, using her firm cheeks beneath the peach silk to lift her higher to him so that he could deepen the kiss. When he ended the kiss, he turned her around so that her backside was against him. Her wrapped one arm around her waist, his lips trailing down her neck, the other hand cupping her breast and massaging it.

  “Hey, Trenton, what a doll,” a shipmate called out from the ship.

  “Figures a bastard like you would have a real looker tucked away,” another yelled.

  Anna Marie gasped, dimly aware that he was petting her so openly in front of so many sailors. “Dallas, please, not in front of all these men.”

  Dallas ignored her and palmed both of her breasts and fondled them, and as he did, he ground his pelvis against her, so that Anna Marie could feel his hard-on rubbing against her buttocks. She couldn’t help but shiver with heat that was blooming between her thighs.

  This elicited even more catcalls and lewd comments.

  “Man, what I wouldn’t do to get my hands on those melons.”

  “Hey, Trent, what she cost per night?”

  “The way she’s taking it, he’s gonna have a boner all night for her.”

  Anna Marie wanted to be humiliated. She should have been humiliated, that Dallas would treat her so cheaply, and that he was making it clear to all the other men that he had her drive down to meet him for one purpose only. But, somehow, she was turned on, because it was obvious that the minute he saw her, Dallas couldn’t keep his hands off her, and the slow, hard Secret Affair 130

  touch of his hands was telling her that he did not plan to keep them off her until he had to leave her. Shamefully, she realized she was turned on, that when she should have felt cheap and used, she felt very sexy and desired.

  Perhaps there was something wrong with her that she never suspected, that when it came to men, respect and consideration didn’t mean anything to her. At least, they did not seem to mean anything when it came to Dallas. Or, perhaps, she was secretly an exhibitionist, and that it turned her on when a man pawed at her in public. It was something she would have to deal with later. Much later.

  On the ship, an older man with silver hair was watching the small salacious show, but unlike the others, he was not smiling or whistling. His expression was somber and thoughtful, his iron gray eyes closely watching his best Special Ops openly fondle the small woman. But unlike all the other male spectators, his iron-gray eyes narrowed and hardened with disapproval. Also, unlike the other males, the Admiral knew that Dallas wasn’t doing it to show off or to display his manhood in front of the hundreds of men. Dallas wasn’t the type to engage in such displays of ego. No, the only reason why a man like Dallas engaged in an open and very sexual display of affection to a woman was because the woman was affecting him in a way that went against his coldly controlled demeanor.

  Dallas finally let go of the woman, leaving her breathless and a little dazed. He bent to pick up his gear and hoist it over his shoulder. Then the older man’s gray eyes narrowed again when he saw Dallas put an arm around the woman and pull her tight to his side as he led her back to her car, holding her so close to him that she could barely walk, so that she tottered sexily beside him, nuzzling his face in her hair, still stealing a few kisses from her. Then the admiral saw the way the woman looked up at her Navy SEAL, her eyes shiny with excitement and happiness and a shyness that no prostitute, no matter how expensive she was, could have pulled off. Then his eyes narrowed again when he saw Dallas give her a very intimate smile. That’s when he saw something in the way Dallas looked at the woman, the hot possessiveness behind the hard desire in the green eyes that caused a vague alarm to go off in the back of his mind.

  The admiral neared them. “Hello, Trent.”

  Dallas immediate released his hands from Anna, dropped his gear, and gave a very sharp salute. “Admiral,” he said, the shutters lowering over his face.

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  The admiral peered down at Anna Marie from beneath very bushy white eyebrows. The

  look in the admiral’s gray eyes that were almost entirely overwhelmed by the eyebrows was a look that a father would give to a child when he was deciding if the child had committed some minor transgression. And she, who was looking anything but daughterly, had to suppress the urge to scurry behind Dallas.

  To Anna Marie, the admiral looked like everyone’s grandfather with his great potbelly beneath his white suit, snowy white hair, florid, fleshy face, and a kindly, deceptively benevolent expression.

  The admiral took his time taking stock of Anna Marie, noting the hesitancy of her smile, the short cap of reddish brown hair, and the large, soft gray, pensive eyes, and her petite figure beneath the shy face that was obviously in full bloom. It was also obvious to the admiral that this was no woman in the bloom of youth. But neither did she have the hard, jaded gloss of a working girl or some of the sophisticated society women that Dallas Trenton had been seen with around Washington. This was no Mata Hari, but a kitchen mouse, who could,
for some men, prove just as fatal.

  The admiral turned his eyes to Dallas. A piece of ass? was the silent question in his gray eyes. Dallas, the bastard that he was, was not intimidated and smoothly ignored the silent question.

  “Ah, this must be a friend of yours, Trent,” the admiral said. “I can see why you were in a hurry to get back here. She’s quite lovely.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Dallas said noncommittally. “This is Anna Marie Sorenson.”

  He gave Anna Marie a small, courtly bow. “How do you do, Ms. Sorenson? I’m Admiral

  Reardon, Norfolk Reardon, Miss. I’m Dallas’s commanding officer.”

  Anna Marie did cringe. It was like meeting Dallas’s father. She could just imagine how she must appear to him. She put her hand out to him. “Hi, sir. You have a very nice ship.” Although the admiral’s face remained sober, a twinkle entered his eyes. He didn’t think he’d ever heard anyone calling a billion dollar fighter ship complete with fighter jets as a “nice ship.”

  He gravely shook her hand. “Thank you, my dear. Although, I’m afraid it isn’t my ship.

  I’m long past the days when I manned my own ship. I now sit behind a desk in Washington and move men like Dallas around the world. Similar to moving chess pieces on a game board.” Secret Affair 132

  “Oh,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “That’s nice.” She winced. “I hope you like your job.”

  “I do, my dear,” the admiral said gently. “I especially like ordering a man like Dallas around.

  Anna Marie gave small, nervous laugh. “I can’t imagine anybody really being able to

  order Dallas around.” She blanched when she realized what she had just said. “I…I mean, of course, since you’re his boss, he would have to take orders from you.”