When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance) (9 page)
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Authors: Gwynne Forster
BOOK: When You Dance With The Devil (Dafina Contemporary Romance)
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“Jolene. Number eighteen, Ocean Road.”
He winked at her. “See you Saturday at four,” and she watched him walk through the shop in search of the owner. Tight jeans covered what seemed to her like an exquisite behind, and he strode like the heroes in the novels she’d come to love.
As she boarded the bus to go home, she watched the couples who waited in line and those who were already seated. Did they do the things those people did in her books? She wished she could ask the woman in the red dress who snuggled so close to the man beside her. Age apparently didn’t make a difference, she decided, watching one aged couple holding hands.
I’m missing all this. Lord, I wish mama was alive and I could tell her what she did to me. I’m not over the hill yet, and I’m going to get some of what’s due me.
I’m missing all this. Lord, I wish mama was alive and I could tell her what she did to me. I’m not over the hill yet, and I’m going to get some of what’s due me.
Meanwhile Richard decided to take Fannie’s advice and try to have modern computers placed in the library, for he suspected that the schools were short of them if, indeed, they had any. After calling in favors from friends in Washington and New York, he got a promise of six modern desktop PCs.
“I’m taking your advice,” he told Fannie at supper that night. “In a week, we’ll have those computers. Now, we’ll have to find somebody to teach these kids how to use them.”
“I’ll ask Mr. Hicks if he can help. He—”
“We got baked Alaska tonight, Richard, and you get yours first.”
He glanced up to see Marilyn holding a flaming, white, mounded cake-like dessert with raspberries strung around its sides. At the buzz of murmurs from the other boarders, Marilyn hastened to reassure them. “Everybody’s getting one, so don’t get your backs up.”
Before he could respond, Fannie practically growled her disapproval. “Where’s mine? Richard is not the only person sitting at this table.”
Marilyn’s face bloomed into a broad smile. “No, but he’s the only one wearing pants.” She grinned down at Richard. “Taste it. I knocked myself out making it.”
He didn’t want to encourage her, but he loved baked Alaska, so he tasted a forkful. Heaven. “First class,” he said in what he regarded as an understatement.
“I know it. Nobody beats me making this.” She stroked his back before rushing to the kitchen.
“I sure hope you put a new lock on your door,” Fannie said, her annoyance at Marilyn evident in her tone and demeanor.
“I forgot it, but there are other means. Fannie, this stuff is to die for.”
“I know it. Problem is she also knows it.”
“Where’s the fire?” Judd asked Richard when he hurried out of the dining room without drinking the espresso that Marilyn had begun serving for Richard’s benefit.
“I believe in heading off trouble.”
“You mean Marilyn? I wish you luck. A couple of men finally left here because she wouldn’t leave them alone.”
“We’ll see. I’d love to beat you at blackjack, but not tonight. Let’s meet for breakfast around eight.” He had begun to enjoy his morning talks with Judd, aware that a liking for the old man had begun to steal up on him like a wind out of nowhere.
Minutes after he stepped into his room, he heard a light tap on his door. With his fists locked to his hip bones, he told himself to ignore it, but upon reflection, he figured that Marilyn hadn’t finished after supper clean-up. So, the second, louder knock drew him to the door.
He opened it. “I knew you wouldn’t want to pass up your espresso,” Marilyn said, brushing past him into his bedroom, “since you know I make it ’specially for you. I’ll take care of you. You know that.” She put the coffee, a napkin and a bar of chocolate on his night table and smiled in anticipation of a gesture of appreciation from him.
He leaned against the wall beside the open door, his arms folded and his ankles crossed. He didn’t have to be a gentleman about it, and if she made a move, he’d have it out with her. If he was going to fall off the wagon, so to speak, he’d go after a woman less in a position to beleaguer him constantly.
“Members of the opposite sex are not allowed in guest bedrooms, Marilyn. You know it’s against house rules.”
“Those rules aren’t intended for me, you know.” She sauntered over to him, and he raised both hands, palms out.
“If I had wanted coffee, I would have remained in the dining room until you or Rodger brought it.”
“Aw, come on. You know you want it.”
If he had ever heard a double entendre, that was it. “Do I look like the kind of man who’s incapable of going after a woman he wants? Do I?”
“No, but here in the house with all these people, you’re just shy.”
“Shy, hell! I like to choose my own poison, and I’m damned good at it. I’d like you to leave.”
Her long mascaraed lashes closed over her eyes as she looked down and kicked at the carpet. “You’re joking.”
“Joking? Do you see me laughing? Let’s not let this turn ugly, Marilyn. This was a mistake. If you got the impression that I’d welcome any level of intimacy with you, I’m sorry. I’m not here for that.”
She cocked her head and looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “You’re not gay, are you?”
His laugh came out harsh and unfriendly. “My sex partners have been females aged thirteen to sixty-four, black, white, Latino, blondes, brunettes, redheads, tall, short and in between, skinny and fat. Anything else you want to know about them? When I want a woman, she does not have to chase me. Understand?”
“You won’t tell anybody about this.” She raised her head. “Will you?”
He lifted his left shoulder in a careless shrug. “Not unless we have another, similar encounter.” He pointed to his night table. “Would you take that with you?” She took up the tray and walked out without meeting his gaze.
Richard walked over to the window and looked out on the moonlight-shrouded bay. He needed someone, but not Marilyn. Someone who could make him forget Estelle. In the distance he saw a fisherman’s boat silhouetted in the night and shook himself vigorously as if to unshackle himself from the chains of unrequited love, to sail free as that boat sailed over the waves. He was making progress; only a short six months earlier, he would have emptied himself into Marilyn without a single qualm and let her deal with it. For many respectable men, refusing to tomcat wouldn’t be an achievement, but for him, it spelled progress. If he could do something
for
someone, as Fannie had suggested, maybe that would make up for some of the wrongs he’d done. He turned away from the window, got ready for bed and wrestled with himself and his libido. He hadn’t set out to alter his lifestyle, but in trying to change his attitude toward and behavior with women and in choosing to eschew superficiality and to contribute unselfishly to the community, he had done precisely that. Only God knew what he could expect.
for
someone, as Fannie had suggested, maybe that would make up for some of the wrongs he’d done. He turned away from the window, got ready for bed and wrestled with himself and his libido. He hadn’t set out to alter his lifestyle, but in trying to change his attitude toward and behavior with women and in choosing to eschew superficiality and to contribute unselfishly to the community, he had done precisely that. Only God knew what he could expect.
He joined Judd for breakfast the next morning, expecting Marilyn to give him a cold shoulder. However, her smile beamed as brightly for him as ever, although she didn’t put her arm around his shoulder or touch him as she had recently made a habit of doing.
“I saw her sneaking up the stairs last night right after supper,” Judd said when Marilyn left their table, “but from the look of things this morning, she didn’t score any points.”
“I’m a resolute man, though I concede that if it had been Halle Berry, I wouldn’t be boasting this morning about the strength of my resolve.”
“Looks as if she backed off . . . at least for now.”
He looked at Judd and grinned. “She works here, so it would be easy to indict her for sexual harassment.”
What passed for laughter rumbled out of Judd’s throat. “What judge would believe you? People look at you and see a player, just like Marilyn does.”
“Players have rights. I’m getting some computers for the library, and Fannie says she knows a man who’ll teach the local kids who don’t already know how to use them. Maybe I’ll start a computer club or something like that.”
Judd extended his hand for a shake. “Now, you’re doing something important for the people around here. You won’t be the big shot you used to be, maybe, but you’ll make more friends than you dreamed of. I’m proud of ya, son.”
Richard stopped eating and pushed the plate of waffles and sausage aside. “That’s the first time I have ever heard those words.” When Judd frowned, he added, “I wasn’t the child who tried to please his parents. I was too selfish for that.”
“But that was then.”
“Yeah. I’m on a different course now.”
Jolene, too, was on a different course. She met Jim at the door of the boardinghouse and realized that she had forgotten how he looked. Not bad, she thought. “Where are we going?” she asked him after he kissed her left cheek.
“Salisbury. I thought we’d see
Hurricane
, unless you’d rather see a different movie. It’s old, but I hear it’s pretty good. What do you say?”
Hurricane
, unless you’d rather see a different movie. It’s old, but I hear it’s pretty good. What do you say?”
She hadn’t seen it but, in any case, she didn’t care which movie she saw because she knew nothing of screen actors and actresses. She hadn’t kept up with theatrical news, so the names of most stars meant nothing to her. Shaken by the sight of violence and blood, she snuggled close to her date and held her breath until forced to expel it.
“Want to go for something to eat?” Jim asked her. “You’ll never get back to your place in time to eat supper there.
“You’re right, and my landlady can’t stand the thought of anybody coming to the table late.”
“Do you like Chinese food?”
Embarrassed to tell him that she had never eaten in a Chinese restaurant or tasted Chinese food, she said in as offhand a manner as she could affect, “Who doesn’t?” She hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t exposed herself, either.
“You really do like Chinese food, don’t you?” he asked her later as they ate in the first Chinese restaurant she’d ever entered.
“It’s good. I love these flavors.”
“I’d been hoping they had a better kitchen,” he said, and she knew he realized that she either hadn’t eaten much Chinese food, or had poor taste.
Outside the restaurant, he faced her and put both his hands on her shoulders. “It’s early. Come by my place, why don’t you? I’ll take you home when you’re ready to go.”
She turned her back to him and looked into the distant darkness. He was a tall man, well over six feet, strong and nice-looking. Maybe he would introduce her to the way the women felt in her books. She thought of them as her books, because they were so precious to her. Her flesh quivered when his big hands stroked her back, warming her through her blouse. She closed her eyes, remembering how Melinda felt when Blake’s lips covered her nipple.
“Come on,” he whispered, “if you want to go.”
“If it isn’t too far,” she said, camouflaging her eagerness to receive what, according to her books, he wanted to give her.
“It’s not far. About ten minutes by car. Coming?”
Why did he ask her a second time? Couldn’t he see that she wanted to go with him? If he asked her one more time, she’d find the bus to Pike Hill, get on it and go home. “How far is your car?”
“Across the street.” He took her hand and didn’t release it until he seated her in the passenger seat of the car.
He fastened their seat belts and a few minutes later, stopped in front of a four-story apartment house, a corner building on a quiet, clean street. When she remarked that he lived in a nice neighborhood, he replied, “Think so?” She didn’t know what to make of that. They entered a small, reasonably tidy apartment on the third floor at the front of the building.
“Have a seat,” he said. “I’ll get us something to drink.”
“I don’t drink,” she said.
“How about half a glass of white wine to toast our friendship?”
She wished she was sophisticated and at ease with men, so she could lean back and cross her legs the way the women did in the books she read. “Relax,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything you don’t want me to do. Whenever you say the word, I’ll take you home.” Why was he leaving it to her? Then she remembered that the men in her books always made certain that the women wanted them, and she relaxed a little.
He left the living room and returned with two glasses of white wine. He clicked her glass and said, “Here’s to us.”
Here’s to mama
, she said to herself,
If she could just see me now
! She put the glass to her lips.
, she said to herself,
If she could just see me now
! She put the glass to her lips.
After a few sips, it seemed as if warm smoke swirled around in the pit of her belly and began working its way toward her vagina. She crossed her legs so that she could better enjoy the glorious new feeling.
Jim took the glass from her fingers, leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Then he gazed at her. “Open your mouth for me.”
Oh, Lord. He was going to put his tongue in her mouth.
With her right hand, she gripped his shoulder for support and parted her lips. His tongue plowed into her, and he held the back of her head while it danced in and out of her mouth.
Just like Blake did to Melinda.
She opened her mouth wider, and his fingers fumbled at the buttons on her blouse. Anxious for more, she unbuttoned it for him, and he took it off her and tossed it into a chair.
With her right hand, she gripped his shoulder for support and parted her lips. His tongue plowed into her, and he held the back of her head while it danced in and out of her mouth.
Just like Blake did to Melinda.
She opened her mouth wider, and his fingers fumbled at the buttons on her blouse. Anxious for more, she unbuttoned it for him, and he took it off her and tossed it into a chair.
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