BOMAW 1-3 (4 page)

He dropped the towel. “Yes, ma’am. Right away, ma’am.”

“Ha, ha, ha,” she grumbled from beneath the towel. After hearing his door slide open and close, she pulled back a portion of the towel and peeked out to see if the coast was clear. Then quickly scrambled up, with her legs feeling heavy as they tingled. She couldn’t stand up right away, so she tried to fix the towel around her. After a moment, she finally stood.

Standing at his sliding door, she saw him there as she slid it aside to come in. He held out one of his white shirts in what he’d like to think as a peace offering. She stood still, glaring at him. “Ah, come on. Don’t be mad at me. I didn’t do anything.” Truth be told, he hadn’t done anything, but found her predicament amusing. Sighing, she took the shirt.

“Thank you. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Right down that hall to the left. I’ll be right back. I’m off to slay your dragons, fair damsel.” She watched him pick up a fishing net and a boat paddle and he was off. She turned away and headed for his bathroom. “Sssss…ouch!” She’d forgotten about the splinter in her foot. She limped in, dropped both towels after closing the door, and put his shirt on. After buttoning it up and rolling up the sleeves, she hesitated a moment as a strange feeling came over her wearing his shirt. Swallowing and shaking the feeling, she sat on the toilet to pick the splinter out.

“Holy mackerel, look at the size of that thing! Oh man…it’s gonna hurt.”

She stood to rummage through his medicine cabinet, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair hung flat and to her shoulders, just about dry. She had no make up on, and stood realizing she was as purely presented as she could be. “Oh well. What you see is what you get Mr. Styles,” this was muttered, opening the cabinet to look for something to dig the splinter out and clean the area. His cabinet was just about bare.

Stocked by a typical male, with hardly any medicines. No pain killers. No alcohol. Nothing that she could use. She closed it to look into one of the drawers of the sink vanity. Just some shaving stuff and condoms. Lots of condoms. “What a surprise!” Then bent over and looked under the sink. Bare. She opened the bathroom door and looked out. “You back yet?” she called out. There was no response. She turned back, picked up her towels and limped out of the bathroom looking around. “Well at least he’s clean,” she said aloud, talking to herself as she snooped into the room across from the bathroom. It was apparently his room. A fully furnished bedroom, but he still had packed boxes stacked in the corner of it. His bed was made though. As a matter of fact, come to think of it, he hadn’t slept in it. He’d just come back from somewhere this morning. She turned away from there and looked down the hall. There were two doors at the end of the hallway. She limped in that direction, around boxes stacked against the wall, yet to be unpacked. The room on the left was unfurnished and loaded with packed boxes. “Man, he’s got a lot of stuff for a single man.” She turned from there and went to the room on the right.

Opening the door, she was shocked to see a brightly lit painting room. He was an artist. There were unfinished pieces propped against the wall all around the room. Three easels stood with covered canvases. Against one wall, there were many paintings, four rows across, each row five to six paintings deep. She went to the first row and starting looking through them. With each row, her look became more and more sarcastic. “What a surprise! A nekkid woman on every one.” They were either stretched out on the beach, belly down, rear up…draped across a chaise lounge. Tangled in satin sheets on a bed. Lying in a field of flowers. Kneeling in a shallow tub bathing and looking over their shoulders back at him, posing seductively. What became clear as she viewed them, and she had to admit, they were all tastefully done. Very clean, smooth and precise. They were of photograph quality. As a matter of fact, now that she thought about it, she could swear she’d seen a couple somewhere before. Then she lifted one of the covers on a perched canvas.

“Oh my god…he’s a book cover artist.” The one he was working on now, was breathtaking. “Wow,” she exclaimed, impressed. The work displayed before her…opened a small window to his eye for capturing the beauty of a man and woman. He was brilliant. Gifted and keen. She was impressed. She hated sappy romance novels and the covers they sometimes displayed, but this one, made you long to be the woman wrapped in that man's arms that way. Tenderly. Everett had somehow transferred to this still life a look on this man’s face, the very one all women wanted from the man they loved. To be treasured, cherished, held in an embrace that came from the depths of his soul. Her eyes watered. All of a sudden, she was lonely. All of a sudden, she longed for what her eyes beheld. She dropped the cover and looked up. He was standing in the doorway staring at her. She stared back at him.

“I’m sorry but…I’m nosey,” she admitted softly.

“Most women are,” he returned just as softly. Not at all offended at seeing her there. Neither was she offended by his comment.

“Your work is beautiful,” she offered honestly.

“So are you,” he replied.

She swallowed. “Not as beautiful as some of the women in these portraits you’ve painted,” she returned humbly.

“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I have a good eye for it, and lady, you are beautiful.”

She looked down bashfully, then sighed looking up. “I’m not a mean person…I just…” She was speechless as to what else to say. Then to her horror, tears came to her eyes. She was all of a sudden vulnerable and scared. She looked down again. “I’m sorry, I’ve been so rude to you. Thank you for helping me.” She looked up again.

“Apology accepted, and you’re welcome. Anytime. Ummm, by the way…they’re gone. It took me a bit to catch the little critters, but your house is bat free once again.”

“Well, I guess I better go then,” she returned, limping around his easel.

“Why are you limping?” he asked concerned.

“I picked up a splinter on my porch in my mad dash to safety,” she answered, smiling as she walked up to him in the doorway. “That’s kinda why I was snooping. I was looking for something to remove it with.” He stood staring down at her, making her feel self-conscience. She reached up, pulling her hair back from her cheek, placing a small portion behind her ear.

“Let me do a portrait of you?”

She gazed up at him, stunned. “What?”

He brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You heard.”

“Why?”

“I’ve never done a black woman before. I’d like to start with you. In the nude, with my shirt on. I’d unbutton it down to there.” He touched “there”, startling her heart. “Then have you sit on the window seat over there.” He nodded across the room, where, sure enough, there was one. She hadn’t noticed it, with looking at all the paintings. “I’d have you sit in it, leaning your left shoulder against the wall. Your bare legs stretched out beside you. Your right knee bent forward. Your wide hips bared to me, the shirt falling off your shoulder, teasing, taunting me with just enough cleavage showing to drive any man with a longing to see the rest of you.”

He was mesmerizing. His good looks. His hypnotic blue-gray eyes. His deep soothing voice. All made and used by him, to cast a spell. She smiled gently. Now she knew more than ever, she had to stay away from him. She gazed a moment more. He was definitely made up of the kind of stuff appealing to women, but there was a legitimate reason this man had a drawer full of condoms.

“I suppose I should be flattered,” she finally returned. “I’d just as soon pass on it, however.” She broke the rapt gaze between them and turned away. “I better go.”

“Wait…what about that splinter. Let me help you get that out.”

“I only have to make it across the road. I’m sure I’ll survive. I’ll have someone come repair your deck,” she informed him, walking back down the hall. “After I clean your shirt, I’ll get it back to you as well.” She was turning into his living room and heading for the front door. He followed.

“Hey,” he called. She stopped at the door looking back. “How about we have lunch or dinner sometime?”

“No, thank you.” She smiled one last time at him, then turned to look out his screen door. The coast was clear.

“Well, see ya, neighbor,” she said, right before she made her exit. Then stopped in the middle of his yard looking back at him, she called, “Welcome to the neighborhood.” Resuming her direction as Everett stood in the door, watching her hobble across his yard, then across the road to her drive. His eyes followed her all the way until she stepped into her door.

“Shawn my boy...I think you’re going to have to pull out all the stops for this one. I think you are.”

Three Days Later…

Standing in the post office before the four teasing, snickering men, Sylvia could not believe her ears. She knew having her mouth dropped open did not present a very attractive picture. She also knew that she was going to kill him. No ifs, ands, or buts about it!

"What did he tell you?" she finally recovered enough to inquire. Her tone and look made those present clear their throats, choking back further laughter.

"Oh, come on now, Sylvie...don't go ta gettin' all upset," the postal worker, Frank, tried to reason.
He cut his eye to the others, trying to douse their humor.

"Don't see what all the fuss is ‘bout, just a couple'a danged bats is all. What was ya runnin' for?" This came from old man
Sparky, nicknamed so because he was always around town flirting with the ladies, pouring on the charm with his snaggletooth grin. "'Specially in the altogether, naked as the day you was born." He grinned then, his two front teeth missing. "Sure woulda like to been there, though." He flexed his brows.
Sylvia thought she would disintegrate right on the spot. Obviously her humiliation before him was not enough. He had to spread it around town to further entertain himself at her expense. The four cleared their throats nervously, seeing the look of hostility on her face.
"Now, Sylvie, don't go gettin' all tied up in a knot over it! It ain't all his fault. We kinda pried it out of him," Frank admitted gently. Quite incredulous at that admission, Sylvie crossed her arms over her breast, dropped one hip low as a lone brow shot up.

"Really? Please explain. How exactly did you pry out of him something
you
didn't even know about in the first place? Please, tell me, because I would just love to know!"she charged, not at all pleased—if her body language was any indication. Frank's head rolled uncomfortably as the others shifted in place, from one foot to another.

"Sylvia, it was all in fun...he didn't mean no harm, now…he really didn't," Frank tried to console her, just as the door opened and the object of their discussion came walking in. Upon entering the post office, it didn't take a rocket scientist to see what he'd walked in on. The belligerent look on Sylvie's face and the uncomfortable silence of the others at his presence, was enough to make Everett Styles sigh deep and wish he'd kept his mouth shut. He stopped right next to her within the door and gazed down into her angry eyes.

"Well, good morning, Mr. Styles. I would just like to start this day off by thanking you very much for using my unfortunate situation to amuse these gentlemen. To my
shame
, I find that you obviously get a kick out of sharing your sordid exploitations with women!" she accused hotly, uncrossing her arms and glaring at him as he stood in front of the post office entrance.

"Sordid? Exploitation? When did I exploit you?" Everett asked, exasperated.
She was not about to argue with him. "Excuse me! I have taken care of what I came for. Would you please be so kind as to remove yourself from the entrance...I would now like to use it for my exit!" Just then the door came open and a middle age couple entered the post office.

"Excuse me," the woman petitioned as the two combatants stood glaring at each other. Everett stepped aside as the couple passed through. He immediately stepped back in front of Sylvia, whom he'd stunned by the move.

"Excuse me! I would like to leave!" she reminded him, in no uncertain terms.

"You're more than welcome to do so, after you explain how it is that I exploited you! That's a little strong, don't you think?" he tossed back, a little rumpled.
Mary Jo and David Kessler, the new couple who entered, joined the others within the small audience with their eyes and ears strained.

"What's going on?" Mary Jo attempted to whisper as her husband's eyes bulged to know as well. "He exploited her, when she run naked from a bat." This bit of information came from ol' Jesse, who was retired military. Like those originally with him, he basically hung out around town, going from one shop to another looking for excitement. He'd chosen well this afternoon.

"Oh my! When did this happen?" she asked, turning to look at Sylvia and Everett, who was staring at the group stunned and incredulous.

"Hold on a minute here! I did not exploit her!" Everett defended as Sylvia bit back another angry accusation, suddenly shoving him out of her way.

"Now do you see what you've started?" she railed, turning and heading for the door. Everett turned back to the group, just as Sparky spoke up. "That's what she say, you explot her."

Frank shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face. "It's exploit, Sparky. Not explot!" he corrected the older man.

"Oh...okay. What that mean, by the way?"