The Scarlet Letter Society (15 page)

Ron grabbed the back of her head with his left hand while his right hand explored and teased her nipples. She lifted her chest to meet his touch, reaching down to unbuckle his belt. His shirt was already on the floor from where he dropped it on the way to her desk, but his tie remained loosely around his neck. As he stepped out of his pants, she grabbed the tie to pull him back to her, passionately kissing him and darting her tongue into his eager mouth.

There wasn’t much time for foreplay in an office where they knew anyone could come to the door. The heat of the encounter left little need for foreplay anyway. She held the tie with her left hand, using her right hand to stroke him a few times. He moaned softly.

“I want you,” he said.

“Then take me,” she responded, spreading her legs. She still wore one of the Jimmy Choo black leather pumps she’d put on that morning; the other had hit the floor when she jumped onto her own desk.

He thrust into her as she sighed, already wet from the sight of him walking through the door. She tightened her grip on the tie around his neck, twisting it tighter. He looked at her and raised an eyebrow.

“Oh that’s how it’s going to be?” he breathed.

“If I had time, you know I’d use it to tie you up,” she said.

“I’d love it,” he said. Sex between them was always a power play, and the exchange of that power was madly erotic to both of them. With his left hand around her ass, he used his right hand to grab her long, straight blonde hair and twist, then pull it firmly.

They came together in the frenzy of heat that only forbidden sex can generate. He looked into her ice blue eyes.

“That was amazing, Nicole,” he said.

“It always is with us, Ron,” she said. “Why don’t we just get fucking married and call it a day?”

She winked at him and smiled a cocky smile, and he couldn’t tell if she was serious or not. He found himself surprised at wishing that she was.

“Well maybe we should just think about doing something fucking insane like that one day,” said Ron in what he hoped was the same are-we-kidding-or-not tone. He smiled at her as he got dressed. She walked around to the chair, put on her blouse as he put on his shirt, and they stared at each other while each buttoned buttons.

She walked around the desk, straightening the nameplate that read “Nicole Shaw, Managing Editor.” At twenty-nine, she was the youngest woman in the history of the
Washington News
to serve this role, and she was quite pleased about it. Ron embraced her. They agreed to meet for cocktails after work, and he left the newspaper office and walked the two blocks to the law firm and his internship.

On the night of the Pop Rocks encounter, Eva had barely remembered returning to her room. The combination of the wine and the champagne and the
romantic evening hit her all at once, and she wasn’t even sure how she had made it into bed after the delicious night.

In the morning, she awoke in her bed and found a note.

Eva
,

Seeing you vulnerable and taking care of you brought me many feelings. I want us both to take the day off today and enjoy the city and talk. Call me
.

Charles

G-Chat With Charles

[email protected]

9:35 PM
Charles
: Madame, I owe you an apology.

Eva
: Whatever for, darling chef?

Charles
: We have been too distant. I feel it is my fault. It is not what I want, and I’m sorry.

Eva
: You haven’t done anything wrong. You were right. You had to physically carry me up to bed because I’d had so much to drink, so I was vulnerable. I know you had reasons for not wanting to worry about me.

9:39 PM
Charles
: You should not have to suffer because of what I went through losing my wife.

Eva
: I didn’t blame you. I’ve just been busy in DC- I’m sorry I haven’t been to New York in a few weeks.

9:40 PM
Charles
: I wanted the evening to be perfect for you. Maybe the popping candy rocks were a bad idea?

9:41 PM
Eva
: I am spelling out “laughing out loud” right now because I don’t think you would know what the LOL abbreviation would stand for. Pop Rocks. They are called Pop Rocks. And they were a perfectly wonderful idea.

9:43 PM
Charles
: If I am to be honest, I’m not sure how to handle my feelings for you.

9:45 PM
Eva
: I am always happy when I’m with you. You make me laugh. I can’t thank you enough for that.

Charles
:
You fill my heart with joy.

9:46 PM
Eva
: That is probably the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me—thank you.

Charles
: I am scared to give you my heart because I cannot stand for it to be broken again.

9:47 PM
Eva
: I understand. But you should know I’m not an alcoholic like my father was. I know how to control my drinking. I know you didn’t mean to suggest otherwise and be hurtful.

Charles
: And for this I am so sorry to have even possibly hurt you, but not sorry to have cared.

9:50 PM
Eva
: Thank you for saying so. I’m sorry you’re dealing with such a complicated woman. You deserve better, someone who would give you 100% of herself.

9:51 PM
Charles
: There is no better.

Eva
: Let’s talk about it when I get to New York. Maybe you can make the banana French toast you know I love.

9:53 PM
Charles
: Mais oui. Anything for our hotel’s most distinguished guests, madame.

  
Eva
: Well I have come to expect a certain level of treatment, thanks to your generous service, monsieur. I’ll see you in a few days, Charles.

9:55 PM
Charles
: May time pass quickly until then.

Just a baby
, wrote Lisa in her journal.
Only this
.

She looked at the words, and thought about it for a moment.

Was that really all she wanted?

It didn’t seem to be that simple. If the only important thing in her life was having a baby, she’d be focused on making her marriage better, including having more sex as part of it, scheduling fertility treatments, resting,
whatever
. Not getting up at 3 AM and not being able to fall back asleep because she wondered if there was a new email from Ben.

What if?
she wrote,
That Heart song could happen
.

She had thought of the song a hundred times lately, and now jotted down the song title:
“All I Want to Do Is Make Love to You.”
The story in the song was that a woman’s husband couldn’t get her pregnant, so she trolled around picking up hot hitchhikers and taking them to a hotel room to have sex with them so that she could get knocked up. It worked, as proven by the lyric about running into the hitchhiker later on, while with her child. Lisa wrote down the remembered lyric:
“You can imagine his surprise, when he saw his own eyes.”

What a ridiculous song
, thought Lisa, smiling almost to laughter. How many ways are there to get sperm in this world that a chick has to resort to driving around, picking up potential serial killer/STD carrying strangers, in order to get pregnant?

But what if it wasn’t a stranger?
she wrote.
What if it was a guy you knew, a guy whose child you wouldn’t mind raising, even if he never knew of the child’s existence?

She wasn’t even sure it was her husband’s fault they couldn’t get pregnant. He had been clocked with a low sperm count, but she knew that if they optimized all the conditions, she really should eventually be able to conceive in one of the months after years of trying. They really hadn’t discussed it all that much. She never got the sense that having a baby was a priority for Jim, at least not like it was for her.

We’re not even really trying that hard
, Lisa wrote.

She thought of how Jim never really made it a priority. It wasn’t like he was checking the calendar in the kitchen with the big red star on it every month, the date of her highest fertility. How she’d love it if he did something romantic on that date instead of bringing home a new pair of shoes for her that she didn’t even want.

At least bring me some damn shoes on a red star day
, wrote Lisa.

She resented the fact that he didn’t care enough about how much she wanted a baby. And sometimes, deep in a part of her that no one would recognize, she fantasized about driving a Christian Louboutin spike heel right through his eyeball.

At her penthouse apartment overlooking the creek in downtown Keytown, Kate brought Maggie’s tea to the coffee table. She had just returned from teaching her class at the liberal arts college and was happy to unwind. Maggie smiled, thanking her for remembering that Orange Pekoe with honey was her favorite.

They sat beside each other on the plush suede couch, enjoying the view and chatting. Maggie told Kate of her confusion over her relationship with Dave in light of her relationship with Ted, and how all of it was ridiculous in light of her divorce proceedings.

Kate listened. She reassured Maggie that none of it was out of the ordinary and that Maggie just seemed to be playing with boundaries and figuring out what she wanted in her life. Although Kate was once married, she had always identified herself as bisexual and shared an open marriage with her husband before he died.

Maggie asked her, “And what about this new relationship with you? It’s been amazing, but as you know, I’ve never experienced anything like it. Now all of a sudden, I’m trying to figure out if I’m a lesbian, or what’s going on.”

Kate smiled at her. “Well, being with a woman for the first time in your late forties doesn’t automatically mean you’re a lesbian, although many women come out in their fifties. Besides, labels are always the things that cause all the problems for everyone. If only we could all learn to avoid them.”

“You’re right. The experience was just so completely unexpected,” said Maggie. “And so completely natural. Being with a woman is night and day from being with a man, that’s for sure.”

“Oh no doubt,” said Kate, smiling. “It’s like having a girlfriend, but closer and obviously more intimate. It’s like having the secret best friend you always wanted.”