Read Sinful Too Online

Authors: Victor McGlothin

Tags: #FIC000000

Sinful Too (8 page)

BOOK: Sinful Too
10.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Richard stopped by a ritzy car wash to have his Lexus sedan primed and polished. Next, he found himself at the Neiman Marcus fragrance counter. A pleasant sales assistant displayed several gift sets. Richard listened attentively to her spiels, each time imagining how that particular perfume would likely commingle with Dior’s natural scent. He smiled when the thought of spraying her shapely body came to mind, then he did his best to chase that wicked wish away.
A gift is just a token to show my appreciation
, he kept telling himself.
Nothing more; nothing less.

After sampling numerous fragrances and floral bouquets for almost an hour he decided on a pricey French perfume with hints of citrus and teakwood. It reminded him of a college girl he didn’t have a shot at nailing before eventually meeting Nadeen. Richard had dreamed about sleeping with Elise too, although he was married two months before giving up on that dream coming true.

With a smile in his heart, Richard made his way to Giorgio’s. He strolled through the lower level of the shopping mall, holding on to the twine-strapped department store bag. He stopped at a kiosk in the middle of the pathway to check his teeth in the sunglass salesman’s mirror before making the turn into the men’s store. Suza recognized him the moment he came in. She smiled cordially, knowing who he was there to see. “Hey, is Dior in today?” he asked. “I’m supposed to pick up something.” Richard began to feel a bit sophomoric when Suza stared at his small Neiman’s bag before answering his question.

“Dior’s tied up in the back, but I remember you. Tell me your name again.” While she awaited an answer, Richard held his lips together defiantly. He had gone through so many mental gymnastics planning for this meeting to have it stall before ever really getting started. If Suza retrieved his alterations instead of Dior, he’d have no viable reason to hang around. Returning later in the day occurred to him but he’d cleared his calendar so there was no other particular place to be. “I can’t pull your tag without a name,” Suza said, teasing him. She’d seen too many men strutting into the store with all kinds of gifts for Dior, and not once did they want her to gum up the works for them.

When it appeared he’d wasted a lot of energy and effort, the office door opened. Dior came out, showering the room with her infectious laugh. “Richard, what are you doing here?” she asked innocently. Suza exhibited her displeasure in the way of a smirk, because her mini-torture session had come to an abrupt ending. She cleared her throat and immediately made herself scarce.

“Hey, Dior,” Richard answered gleefully, as she drew nearer. Seeing her legs for the first time, he enjoyed watching how her short sundress showed them off. “Oh, uh, I came to get my suit and to bring you this.” His smile waned when Dior’s evaporated. “What, did I say something wrong?”

“Come over here,” she instructed. Richard followed her as ordered to a section of the store where tall displays helped to camouflage their conversation. “Why didn’t you listen to me? You’re not supposed to be here today.”
All I need is for Giorgio to come busting through that door and catch me up in this man’s face
, she thought. “I was going to drop this on you later but you just had to deviate.”

“I don’t understand. You told me to come by
today
because my monogrammed suit would be ready
today.

Dior placed her freshly painted nails on her hips. “I told you to call before you came too.” Richard couldn’t quite read her demeanor. He leaned in to question it then decided to come out and ask.

“You might want to tell me what’s going on,” he blurted out in a way she understood. “I didn’t think it was necessary to commit our last discussion to memory but it sounds like you’re reprimanding me.” Dior’s eyes widened with surprise. The tone in his voice thoroughly exhibited his frustration. It turned her on. Suddenly, she softened her expression to put him at ease.

“Don’t be silly, I’m smart enough to know you can’t raise a grown man, no matter how hard you try. I asked you to call first because I didn’t know if I’d have a chance to get it wrapped in a special box,” she lied. “You did say it was for a special occasion.” She relaxed when it seemed that Richard fell for it hook, line, and sinker.

“Now I do feel bad about
deviating.
” Laughter danced with his words. “Speaking of gifts, I stopped by Neiman’s to get a little token of thanks.” When he raised the bag, Dior put on a manufactured smile.

“Ohhh, how sweet,” she sang, cutting her eyes at the closed office door.
I’ve got to get this idiot out of here.
“Thank you, Richard. That’s very thoughtful.” She continued propping up the fake cheesy grin although she hadn’t lifted a finger to accept the bag from his outstretched hands. Actually, she would have been surprised had he shown up empty-handed. What she hadn’t anticipated was his unheralded arrival with her lover less than a comfortable distance away. “Okay, this might sound kinda funny but I was going to tell you that it probably isn’t a good idea for you to come by the shop. My boss was clocking you the last time you came through and he’s real particular. He thinks you’re up to something.”
Aren’t you up to something?
she wanted to say, for the pure satisfaction of seeing his face when it rolled off her tongue. However, it was only a matter of time before Giorgio finished with the books.

“Who is your boss to be making assumptions about my intentions?” Richard asked. He peered directly into Dior’s eyes for the answer.
I’ll bet he’s trying to keep you for hisself
, Richard thought. “I mean, I could speak with him if you want.” Again, he was reading her and she knew it. He was a lot more intuitive than most men she’d determined. She was forced to kick up her game another notch. Dior batted her eyes at Richard, tilted her head to the side like a smitten schoolgirl, then placed her hand on his wrist. Skin on skin contact, even on the most minute level, worked adequately when applied correctly.

“Hmm, that won’t be necessary. Look, I’d love to accept your gift. You went through the trouble of picking it out, came in here smelling like a perfume counter, and I’m very flattered. I don’t need drama on my job though. Besides, your suit isn’t here anyway. I’m working a split shift so I can bring it to you when I get off in about an hour. Call me?” Richard liked the sound of that. He had to close his mouth to keep from drooling over the thought of an off-site meet-and-speak. “So, would you please do us both a favor and hold on to my — what did you call it? — my token until I see you in about fifty-nine minutes?” Pensively, Dior marched Richard toward the exit then waved goodbye. The moment she spun on her heels to head back inside, Giorgio called her name. She cussed under her breath because it didn’t look good. “Yes,” she answered hesitantly, as Suza took a phone call at the cash register.

“That was the preacher man again?” he asked, using the title she’d given him when questioned about Richard before.

Giorgio knew what he saw, true enough. Dior figured there was no use in trying to smile her way out of this one. Drastic measures were required to hush his stormy apprehensions. She forced him to choose, his eyes or her lies. Once again, she turned her nose up to insinuate Richard had nothing she wanted. “This needs to be the last time we go here. I like our arrangement and I would not disrespect it by hooking up with other men in your shop,” she lied continually. “That would be like getting with someone else in your house and I’m not like that.” Though she
had
slept with her own cousin’s husband in their marital home. But what Giorgio didn’t know wouldn’t hurt Dior . . . she had him on the ropes. Now it was time for the knockout. “Preacher man wasn’t up to anything. He did bring me a little something for getting a rush on his alterations and initials stitched into his coat sleeve. I told him his payment was enough and sent him on his way, with whatever he brought with him. If that don’t feel like right to you then I can bounce. Better yet, you can. I’m not the one who’s married.” Without giving it another thought, Dior sighed and walked away as if she couldn’t be bothered with any more of his insecure rants.

Minutes later, Giorgio awkwardly apologized for suggesting she could be remotely interested in that sort of man, the boring type. Dior huffed, feigning frustration. She demanded an end to questions about her life outside of the clothing store. Giorgio agreed. He had no other choice. They said their goodbyes on even terms, as he grabbed his keys and left with a bank deposit tucked under his blazer.

With an hour to kill, Richard drove to a small sandwich shop across from the mall complex. He ordered a fajita wrap but barely touched it. Instead he played with the business card Dior had given him. Richard had committed her cell phone number to memory by the time he’d actually dialed it. Oddly enough, he couldn’t get himself to toss it into the trash can along with the half-eaten Tex-Mex entrée. He wanted to savor his association with Dior, discover what made her tick and what exactly made him want to be near her so bad. Richard had no idea she was two steps ahead of him, lying in wait to spring her trap. She was accustomed to playing the mistress, weekend girlfriend, and the occasional back-office sneak freak. Each of them paid dividends in their own way, but a chance to live the square life with a prominent minister was too big to pass up. Dior wanted top billing and the limelight. This time around, she was set on playing for keeps.

Richard waited until he was certain Dior was out of the store before he returned to his car to call her. His chest tightened as the phone rang. When she answered, he had to suppress the cheerfulness buzzing through his entire body, so as not to appear what he was: an old bee chasing young honey. “Dior, this is Richard.”

“Hey, you, hold on.” She backed her car out of the mall parking lot then glanced at her watch. It was ten after four. “I’m glad you called. Where are you?” she asked in a sultry tone more suitable for private grown-folk conversations.

“I’m not far from the mall. We could meet at this sandwich shop across the street if you like.”

“Uh-huh, I know the place but I don’t have your stuff with me. Do you have something to write with?”

Richard rustled through the console of his car for a pen and pad. “Yes, go on.” Dior gave him directions then asked if he could be there within fifteen minutes. He recognized the area then concluded that the place she’d selected was about ten minutes away. “Sure, but it sounds like directions to a residence,” he said, staring at the piece of paper.

“You’re right; that’s how you’ll get to my house.” She hung up without offering a closing salutation, wheeled down Monfort, then hooked a left onto the freeway feeder road. Her radio blasted hits between Tangie’s comical inserts during the intermission. Dior raced to her house, pulled into the garage, and then flew inside. Richard had already popped up once without calling so it wasn’t far-fetched to think he’d overstep his bounds again and arrive early. She opened her hall closet and pulled out an assortment of gift boxes. The largest was two-by-three feet, big enough to hold the garment Richard had been waiting on. Dior opened another box filled with ribbons, wrapping paper, and everything else that wrapping services used to beautify a cardboard container. Skillfully, she strung a thick felt bow around the box, tied and taped it perfectly, then set it on the sofa table in her den. Another glance at the clock warned that she was running out of time.
I know he’ll come early
, she thought.
I just know it, with his impulsive, impatient behind. Men with money are all alike.

When Dior noticed a black Lexus had parked in front of her house, she began to take off her clothes. “That is him,” she said to herself. “Sometimes I hate being right.” It took Richard what seemed like forever to get out of that sixty-thousand-dollar car. Dior couldn’t fault a man for taking his time to climb out of a fine automobile. Her brother, Dooney, once told her that a nice whip was the next best thing to a fine woman. She figured that was the reason men ran out and pampered them every chance they got. “Boys and their toys,” she said after the doorbell rang. She wasn’t in any rush to answer it. Richard wasn’t going anywhere. And once he laid eyes on her treacherous trappings, it was likely she’d have to put him out afterward.

Richard was impressed with the outside of Dior’s home. It was a small two-story redbrick starter home trimmed in black, well-kept, with a neat lawn and manicured shrubs in the front. Assuming it was more house than she could afford, he wasn’t sure if she lived alone. Hence, the lengthy time he’d spent in his automobile against the curb. “Hey, you found it,” she offered warmly, after finally answering the door. She pretended to be in such a hurry and oblivious to the spell her sheer negligee and sexy golden slippers put on him. Richard was thrown for a loop. A woman dressed in what he’d always called “entertainment skivvies” was flitting about as if she didn’t care whether or not he could see her hot pink panties and bra underneath. “Come on in. I’ll be back in a minute,” Dior said, strolling in the other direction. She needed him to be off balance, early and often, so she left the door ajar. That way, he had to make himself at home without realizing it wasn’t his idea. “Sorry, I spilled some pop on my dress and I was about to change. Let me get your box.”

Sweltering emotions boiled within Richard’s head and heart. He couldn’t steer his gaze from Dior’s shapely attributes swaying sensually in her tiger-print robe. “What the,” he mouthed from the doorway, totally lost in the confusion she created. While stepping into her lair, Richard observed that the inner confines were very accommodating. Each room was painted a different color and decorated with bone-white leather and rich earth-toned accessories.
Expensive contemporary furniture
, Richard thought.
She’s got taste.
White ceramic tile placed throughout the foyer added to the contemporary appeal. It was clear Dior had spent quite some time and a great deal of money to make it just so. Richard was honored to be invited in but it wasn’t clear why he took a seat without being offered one, why she came to the door dressed like a high-priced call girl then dashed off seemingly uninterested.

BOOK: Sinful Too
10.6Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

The Girl With Borrowed Wings by Rossetti, Rinsai
My Own Revolution by Carolyn Marsden
The Circle by David Poyer
Dancing Dragon by Nicola Claire
Light Fell by Evan Fallenberg
Framed by C.P. Smith