by Tom Turner
Speaking of models, which they no longer were, Rose made her entrance into the pool as if she were just coming off the runway. She had a perfect strut, erect posture, and did it all nice and slow, with great deliberation. Crawford watched from the shallow end as she got to the bottom step, then stretched out her arms, dived in, and swam to the deep end.
She turned and put one hand on the diving board. “Ah, perfect temperature,” she said.
Rose let go of the diving board and starting swimming underwater toward Crawford. Just before she got to him, she came up out of the water until their bodies were barely touching. Crawford put his arms around her, drew her closer, and kissed her. And kissed her. And kissed her some more.
Finally, she drew back. “You get me in the mood in about five seconds.”
He smiled. “So, what do you think…right here?”
She put her hand on his cheek and gave it a soft caress. “I think it would be amazing. I think it would be incredible” —she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek— “but it’s not happening tonight.”
“What?” This was a first.
“You know, Charlie, it’s time you decided.”
“Decided what?” He played dumb.
“You’ve had the best of both worlds. The world of me and the world of Dominica. And now the time has finally come when you need to choose between us.”
Oh, God, why? Crawford wasn’t prepared for a heavy conversation. He had figured a few drinks, a nice dinner, good conversation, then fantastic sex. The usual.
This was a curveball he was totally unprepared for.
“But, Rose, here we are…naked, and, and it’s this beautiful moonlit night, and—”
“You’re a tough man to say no to. In fact, come to think of it, I never have. Ever. But this time I am.”
He was near panic. The thought flashed through his mind to say, Rose, I’m ready to immediately commit to you and dump Dominica. Then, during breakfast in bed tomorrow morning, he could say, I was really drunk last night. Whatever I said, don’t hold me to it. But that would just be so incredibly low rent, no way he could go there.
Instead, he thought about kissing her again. Giving her his very best work. Maybe she’d change her mind. It had worked before.
But instead, he simply put his hands on her shoulders and stared into her eyes. “You know what?” He couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “You’re right.”
Rose cocked her head. “Why, Charlie, that’s so understanding of you. I was sure you were going to try to talk me into the double-wide or my bed.”
“Not this time, Rose. ’Cause, like I said, you’re right. And, by the way, I know Dominica thinks you’re right too.”
“Maybe it’s just not in you to commit.”
Crawford sighed. “Maybe.”
He gave Rose a kiss on the cheek, walked up the pool steps, toweled off, got into his clothes, and dialed Uber.
THE END
About the Author
A native New Englander, Tom dropped out of college and ran a bar in Vermont…into the ground. Limping back to get his sheepskin, he then landed in New York where he spent time as an award-winning copywriter at several Manhattan advertising agencies. After years of post-Mad Men life, he made a radical change and got a job in commercial real estate. A few years later he ended up in Palm Beach, buying, renovating and selling houses while getting material for his novels. On the side, he wrote Palm Beach Nasty, its sequel, Palm Beach Poison, and a screenplay, Underwater.
While at a wedding, he fell for the charm of Charleston, South Carolina. He spent six years there and completed a yet-to-be-published series set in Charleston. A year ago, Tom headed down the road to Savannah, where he just finished a novel about lust and murder among his neighbors.
Learn more about Tom’s books at:
www.tomturnerbooks.com