Every Woman's Dream (31 page)

Chapter 53

Calvin

I
HAD KILLED SEVERAL WOMEN AND I HAD NO REGRETS
. W
HAT
I
DIDN'T
know yet was if I'd continue to kill after I killed Lola. It all depended on that imaginary beast in my belly. If killing Lola put him to rest permanently, I would be done. If it didn't, I would probably continue to kill until I was too old and physically unable to do so.

In the meantime, I wanted to have some fun.

Discreet Encounters had opened up a whole new world for me. So far, I'd had encounters with some fine-looking, sex-hungry women. It was one of the reasons I was holding off on my first real date with Lola Poole. I had her thinking that it was really because of my work schedule and other commitments, and that was partly true. But if I had really wanted to be with her sooner, I would have made time for her. She was too stupid to see that, though. And I knew women well enough to know when they thought they were getting over on a dude. Lola had been trying to play the same cat-and-mouse game with me that I'd been playing with her. She was so obviously anxious to sex me. No matter what she said in her brief messages to me, I could read between the lines. She claimed to be so busy she didn't know when she'd be able to meet me. With all the competition I had, I wasn't even sure she ever would.

But I was going to get close to her in other ways....

The morning after I'd received her last dumb e-mail, I put on a pair of dark glasses, a hooded sweatshirt, and a baseball cap. My own mother would not have recognized me. I was on vacation for a few days, so I drove to South Bay City so I could check Lola out from a distance. I parked three blocks away from the tacky grocery store where she worked and walked the rest of the way. She was busy flirting with some dumpy security guard, who should have been watching the door, so she didn't even notice me when I swaggered in.

I stopped in front of a counter a few feet away from her station, which contained a pile of bruised fruit. I stood like a pole glued to the spot and gazed at her. I couldn't wait to wrap my hands around that goose neck of hers! When the security guard finally returned to his post, she noticed me. She blinked and a curious expression crossed her face.

“Sir, can I help you?” she yelled, flashing a fake smile.

“No, I'm just looking,” I replied in a falsetto voice, and swished away like a drag queen.

I immediately started walking up one aisle after another. She was the only clerk on duty, so I couldn't go up and make a purchase. And, I was afraid that if I got too close to her too soon, I'd snap and all hell would break loose. I would have stayed a little longer if that old-ass hag boss of hers hadn't started following me and giving me the fish-eye. There was not a damn thing in that dump that I wanted to buy, let alone steal!

I had already looked Lola up in the telephone book, so I knew where she lived. That night, a few minutes before midnight, I cruised past her house.

This morning I returned around eight and parked a block from her house. I sat there until I saw her come out, prancing down the street like she didn't have a care in the world.

“Lola, you have no idea what I have in store for you,” I said, speaking through clenched teeth. I slapped my steering wheel so hard, the dashboard rattled.

When my mini vacation ended the following day, I had a run down to San Diego. And it was a good thing I did, because I knew that if I continued to stalk Lola, sooner or later someone would notice me.

 

I had a date lined up with a club member who lived in San Diego: a blond female attorney named Rosemary something. Her screen name was “LustyLady.” She had sent me an e-mail three days ago. When I told her I was going to be in her area in a few days, she invited me to spend some time with her in the mansion she shared with her blind husband and their three dogs. I agreed to meet up with her for an encounter, but not in her mansion. I didn't care if her husband was blind, I was not going to disrespect the dude by fucking his wife under the same roof.

This woman was very hot for me, so she was not about to give up. She offered to book a hotel room and I was cool with that. Less than a minute later, she decided she wanted to be in a more intimate setting, so she invited me to come to the beach house she owned in Malibu. I was cool with that too. I parked my rig in one of the designated truck stops on my route, hitched a ride to the nearest car rental business, and I drove to her place.

I had never been to Malibu, but I knew it was a playground for wealthy people. One beach house was just as lavish as the next. There were nothing but luxury cars cruising up and down the palm-tree-lined streets and parked in the driveways. I saw a few prosperous-looking people of color, out and about, but I felt out of place because I was the only one driving a Honda. I envied the people who lived in this paradise, but I preferred the simple life. I believed in that old saying: “Mo' money, mo' problems.”

“You're quite a stud, you know. Sex hasn't been this good for me in years,” Rosemary told me as we lay naked on a thick shag carpet in the living room of her beach house. I'd arrived an hour earlier and we'd already finished off a bottle of cognac and made love twice. She was attractive for a woman in her middle forties and she had a great body. Nothing sagged and there was not an inch of cellulite on her. She admitted that she'd had every cosmetic surgery procedure, from a face-lift to lifting her butt.

“I've been with other black men, but you're one of the best.”

I chuckled.

“What's so funny?” She sat up and gazed down at me.

“Another white woman told me I was a lousy fuck.”

“She's a goddamn liar! Do you still see her?”

“Oh no. She's someone from my past.”

“Harrumph! You don't look like a violent man, and I don't normally condone violence, but you should have slapped her silly.” Rosemary laughed. “What ever happened to her?”

I sat up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I know you probably never wanted to see her after she made that comment, but did you remain on good terms with her?”

Kimberly, that obnoxious hitchhiker, was probably still rotting under those branches and leaves where I'd dumped her. “No. I heard she left town and I never heard from her or saw her again.”

“Good riddance!” Rosemary stood up and started walking toward the corner where the liquor was kept in a small cabinet. “You know I'm married and I love my husband very much. What about you? Is there anyone special in your life?”

“Oh yes! Her name is Lola and she's very special.” I smiled so hard, even my cheeks ached.

Chapter 54

Lola

C
ALVIN CALLED ME AROUND NINE O'CLOCK TONIGHT AND WE FINALLY
made a date for our first rendezvous. We decided to make love in two days, on Super Bowl Sunday (after that damn game ended).

I was beside myself! I had learned so many new bedroom tricks since I'd joined the club, and I couldn't wait to use them on him.

I was so horny for him by now; I started itching between my thighs, and my stomach started cramping ten minutes after his telephone call. I wanted to scream when I went to the bathroom and saw that my damn period had started a week early!

Joan thought it was hilarious when I called her up and told her. “Blood is usually a bad omen,” she told me when she stopped laughing. “Maybe it means you should put off meeting Calvin a little longer.”

“Maybe it means I should not meet him at all,” I countered. “I might like him so much, I won't want to date any other men—and I'm having so much fun, I don't want to do that right now.” I was on the telephone in my bedroom. I could hear Bertha stirring around downstairs, but I kept my voice low so she couldn't hear me talking. She still didn't know I had a separate landline in my room, because I unplugged it and kept it hidden when I wasn't using it. It came in handy because I was bad about keeping my cell phone charged. There had been too many times when I needed to use it to call Joan and couldn't, because my battery was too low. Like it was tonight.

“He asked me to meet him in that sports bar on Franklin Street on Sunday, before the game,” I said with a heavy sigh. “We're going to watch the game together.”

“Humph! You hate sports as much as I do. Do you mean to tell me you're going to sit through that damn football game and then check in to a hotel to get busy? Girl, you know how men are. Do you think his mind is going to be on sex after he's just watched the Super Bowl?”

“I hope so.” I sighed. “It was his idea.”

“Honey, you need a new plan. If the team he's rooting for loses, he'll be pissed off. If his team wins, he'll be too excited to do you any good.” Joan laughed again. “Either way, you can't compete with the Super Bowl.”

“He picked the date, so maybe the game doesn't mean that much to him.”

“If that's the case, he wouldn't have asked you to meet him in a
sports
bar to watch the granddaddy of ball games.”

“Hmmm. Maybe you're right. This Sunday might not be a good day for me to meet him, even if my period hadn't started. If I postpone our date, I hope he doesn't lose interest and not want to meet me, after all.”

“And what if he does? There are plenty more where he came from!”

“That's for sure, but . . .”

“But what?”

“I'd really like to meet Calvin in person this Sunday. Even if it's just for one date.”

“Look, ‘Bloody Mary,' unless the man is a vampire or such a freak he doesn't mind dipping his stick in a woman when she's on her period, the sooner you postpone
this
date, the better. Try to get him to meet you in a couple of weeks when you'll be nice and dry—say, around Valentine's Day. That way, maybe he'll bring you a big box of candy and some flowers.” Joan stopped talking abruptly. “Listen, Reed's in a foul mood again, so let me go do some damage control on my end too. Call me back when you can.”

 

I had to call Calvin and let him know I couldn't meet him on Sunday, after all. He answered halfway through the first ring.

“Calvin, it's Lola Poole,” I said shyly. “My cell phone is charging, that's why I'm calling you from my landline.”

“Hello again, Lola.”

His voice was so deep and sexy, and he sounded older than he looked in his picture.
Is he the man he claimed to be?
I wondered. I thought about the people who lied about their ages and backgrounds and posted pictures of better-looking people, claiming it was them—the way Joan and I had done years ago. Maybe Calvin was a frog-faced geezer old enough to be my grandfather who had been running a game on me all these months! Before I could stop myself, I laughed.

“Tell me what's funny, so I can laugh too,” he said with a chuckle.

“Oh! Nothing. I just thought of a joke my friend told me earlier today.” I cleared my throat. “Um, I know we had planned to get together on Sunday, but something's come up.” I eased the words in, pronouncing each syllable like I was reading cue cards. I hoped he wouldn't detect the disappointment in my voice.

“Oh? I'm so sorry to hear that. I was really looking forward to spending some time with you this weekend.”

“How about next week?” I said quickly.

“I have several hauls the next couple of weeks, so I won't be available again for a while.”

“Oh,” I said meekly. Silence followed for several seconds.

“May I ask why you can't see me on Sunday?” he asked, sounding almost harsh.

“If you don't mind, I'd rather not say. It's kind of personal.” One thing that I would never tell a potential sex partner was that I had to cancel our date because I was bleeding like a stuck pig between my legs. Just thinking about it disgusted me. There was no telling how it would make this man feel if I told him.

“I see.” It was obvious he was disappointed. Hopefully, not enough to put me on a back burner or forget about me completely. “Well, when you are ready, you can let me know. When I finish my hauls next week, I'm going to spend a few days down in San Luis Obispo visiting a couple of former marines I served with. I won't be back up here until the middle of February, and I have hauls lined up from then until March.”

Now that I had decided to meet my mysterious truck driver, I didn't want to wait almost another whole
month
to see him in person. “I know we had planned to spend some serious time together in a hotel room this Sunday, and I hope we will eventually, but I could meet you for coffee tomorrow.” I held my breath, hoping he'd still want to see me.

“Are you sure?”

“Well, yeah. I was planning to do some shopping in a mall close to San Jose, so I'll be in your neck of the woods, anyway. There's a coffee shop across the street from a Bank of America. It has a huge coffee cup painted on the front window. It's not as trendy as the Starbucks a few blocks away, but the coffee is just as good and it's a lot more intimate.”

“I know the place, the Koffee Kupp. I go there quite often when I'm in town.” Calvin's voice had really perked up.

“But that's
all
we can do . . . ,” I said firmly.

“Just chatting with you over a cup of coffee will be enough for now, Lola. If you change your mind about sleeping with me in the future, I'll understand. I mean, we are two mature adults in a sex club.” Calvin laughed. “If we're sophisticated enough to be into something like that, we're sophisticated enough to respect one another's decisions. But since we've communicated by telephone and social media and whatnot, it would be nice to meet up at least once—even if it's just for coffee.” He had such an engaging laugh; I couldn't wait to see if he sounded and looked the same way in person.

“Is ten
A.M.
too early for you?”

“Ten is fine. I look forward to meeting you, Lola. Have a nice night.”

I went to bed, but I didn't get much sleep. All I could think about was Calvin. I finally dozed off, but I woke up again before dawn; so I got up, took a quick shower, and got dressed.

 

After I dropped Bertha off at church a few hours later, I sped onto the freeway and headed toward San Jose, humming Chris Brown tunes all the way. I arrived at the coffee shop before Calvin, but since it was such a small place and there were only four other patrons, I knew he would have no trouble spotting me. When he strolled in less than five minutes later, I gasped. He was even better-looking in person. I stood up from the tiny table near the entrance and waved to him.

As soon as he saw me, he stopped in his tracks and the strangest look appeared on his face. His eyes got big and his lips quivered. You would have thought he was looking at a ghost. When I realized he had on a yellow sweater, I felt like I was looking at a ghost too. I immediately thought about the two pictures that “depicted” me lying in a coffin dressed in yellow. I was not about to let such silly paranormal riffraff ruin my day. I held my breath as he approached me.

“That's a nice shirt you're wearing,” I said, swallowing hard. “Yellow looks good on you.”

“Thank you. And you're as lovely as your pictures on the club's Web site and the one on Facebook.” What he said next made my heart jump:
“I'm sure you'd look good in yellow too.”

“Thank . . . you,” I stammered. I would never wear or buy anything yellow again. Not even a banana. I knew that my peculiar fear made no sense, and that was why I'd never tell anyone about it.

Calvin gave me a big hug and then he reared back and looked me up and down. With a glazed look on his face, he stared at my
neck
so long—it made me uncomfortable. He didn't bat an eye until I coughed to clear my throat.

“Earth to Calvin,” I teased, waving my hand in front of his face.

He blinked hard and shook his head. “I'm so sorry. I was admiring your necklace,” he told me. “My late mother had one just like it.”

“Well,” I said, caressing the inexpensive silver chain I rarely wore, “if I gain another pound, I won't be able to fit it around my neck anymore! I almost didn't wear it today. When I put it on and finally got it snapped, it felt like I was being strangled. Maybe it's time to buy a new one.”

“Well, you have such a dainty neck. I'm sure you'll find another one you like just as much, if not better.”

We sat down at the same time. I couldn't take my eyes off Calvin's handsome face, especially his piercing eyes. And he was staring at my “dainty neck” again. This time, he gazed at it even longer....

“Calvin, I hope that when you get back from your run, we can get together,” I said. “Even if it's only for one time.”

A strange smile crossed his face. “I'll make sure that happens,” he said.

We ordered our coffees and spent a very pleasant hour and a half together. We chatted mostly about mundane things and a little about our backgrounds, but we didn't broach the real reason we were together. Since that reason was to have sex, there was no need to bring it up again—until when, and if, we made a date to “consummate” our “relationship.”

He gazed at my neck more than my face the whole time, but that didn't bother me. He was the first man who ever told me that I had a dainty neck.