Fisher of Men

by Phoebe Alexander

  Before she could say “Come in,” she saw the door handle turn and gripping the other side was a large, weathered hand, followed by a pair of deep-set blue eyes and a strong square jaw capped off with two youthful dimples.

  Judging from his reaction to her standing there in the middle of her office, Leah must have looked shocked: shocked to see him there entirely or shocked that he would just waltz in unannounced, but shocked nonetheless. Words failed her though her mind was screaming, What the heck do you think you're doing?!

  His face filled with chagrin, the dimples fading into oblivion. “Oh!” he blurted out, the pitch much higher than she had ever heard from his deep voice. “Guess I caught you at a bad time? I can come back later if you prefer.” By the last phrase, he'd settled back into his smooth eastern shore drawl.

  “No, no,” she assured him, feeling her face brighten with the blood rushing to her cheeks. “I was just getting ready to go take Glory out. I always try to do that at lunchtime.”

  “I see.” He turned around to look at the door, realizing he'd absentmindedly shut it behind him, unintentionally affording them privacy. He grinned and slid toward her; in moments his faded jeans were brushing against her well-tailored wool skirt. Without another word, his arm suddenly wrapped around her waist as he pulled her closer. Now her breasts smashed against his chest and she could smell cologne and salt air rising off him. Her eyes involuntarily closed, anticipating that his lips would soon be on hers, but instead she felt an unexpected jolt as the wetness of his mouth triggered a nerve in her neck, just below her ear. When she jumped, he pulled her even tighter in his embrace. Her body melted in submission to his touch as his other hand directed her chin toward his face. Their lips finally met just as they had when they'd last said goodbye. And it was every bit as perfect.

  “Come have lunch with me,” he said, pulling back just as her eyes began to open. She felt his whisper falling on her cheek and breathlessly agreed.

  This time he took her north to 94th street, to a little restaurant/bar he said was owned by a friend of his. Once again, the obligatory knowing looks upon seeing their friend with a young woman, hearty backslapping and “Hey, where ya been hiding yourself this winter, Cap?” ensued. Someone inquired as to why he hadn't yet embarked upon his annual trip to the Florida Keys, to which he responded, “That's after Christmas. Why, you wanna go?” By the time they'd reached their table near the back of the restaurant, Cap had about a half dozen comrades planning to stow away on his boat during his upcoming January voyage south.

  Leah was no stranger to the feeling of being recognized everywhere she went in a small town. Back in Wahoo, everyone knew she was Pastor Miller's daughter. Instead of asking her about fishing trips or where she'd been hanging out, she heard things like, “Tell your father that was a great sermon last Sunday!” or “Does Pastor Miller know his daughter is out past ten o'clock?” The anonymity she'd cloaked herself in following her exodus from Wahoo was a comfortable garb, although Barry assured her that with her new title, increased contact with guests and elevated prominence in the affairs of The Pearl, she'd soon become recognized out and about in Ocean City. Not that she had ever thought for one moment she had reason to be worried or ashamed about anything she did in public, save for slight embarrassment at her shoes washing out to sea.

  What about Cap's friends? she wondered. Do they know he's a swinger? Are they swingers too? She realized that it was likely a non-issue. Why would any of these men care if their 42-year-old pal was out sampling a wide variety of fruit? Wouldn't they just cheer him on? Stupid double standard, she thought, shaking her head. It's definitely different for a man than a woman.

  “You okay?” Cap asked, pushing the second menu toward her. “You seem sort of distracted today.”

  She felt her throat clench as if it refused to allow sound to come up through her larynx. She shook it off and forced the words to squeak out, “Um, sure, I'm fine. No worries.” She smiled but noticed he still looked skeptical. “Okay, so I admit I'm a little nervous about tomorrow night...”

  He let her admission hang in the air between them for a second, long enough for the waitress to come to get their order. Leah's cheeks were flushed and she wondered if he was going to ignore her trepidation or address it. Finally, he said, “I was nervous my first time too.”

  Great, that doesn't really put my mind at ease, she thought, but managed to smile gracefully in spite of her mind somersaulting over all the possibilities. But those thoughts lost out to the one pushing its way to the forefront: how much she wished lunch was over and they were alone again, his lips pressed against hers.

  She got her wish about an hour later, a crab cake sandwich now digesting in her stomach. She wished she had eaten less, picked at her food a little more, and basically not behaved like a nervous puppy, twittering then stuffing her face so she wouldn't feel as pressured to talk. He stayed with her while she carried Glory down the steps and into the backyard behind her building, telling her about the fishing trip he had planned for January and how there wasn't a “snowball's chance in hell” that any of those half-dozen guys shouting at him from the bar were actually going to go.

  “So, who is going with you?” she asked, powerful curiosity forcing her hand. She got a vision of him surrounded by a harem of tan-skinned, long-legged, bikini-clad goddesses, all vying for a chance at sleeping in his bed.

  “You, I hope,” was all he said, and it was then that Glory decided to do her business just a few feet from them.

  “Nice,” Leah grunted under her breath, directed at her dog, not at Cap. She wanted to ask him what he could possibly mean by that, if he was being facetious, but the mood had already shifted. She scooped Glory up and began to pound her way up the staircase, her black pumps clicking with every step. He followed right on her heels, seemingly surprised that she could travel so fast in heels while carrying her dog.

  She shoved Glory into her crate a little more roughly than she wanted, but she was feeling frustrated. For once, she wanted to forget about her responsibilities and be whisked away to that euphoric state she'd felt the two times she'd been in Cap's arms. He was waiting for her on her sofa, sitting with one leg crossed over the other, his left ankle resting on his right knee. His arm was stretched across the back of the furniture and he looked relaxed, not in the least bit nervous like she was.

  She had only had one man in this apartment who wasn't related to her and that was Phillip, nearly three years ago. Between the novelty of having male company, the poor timing of her dog, and wondering if she was going to be missed at work during her extended lunch break, she was flustered and on edge.

  He patted the sofa cushion next to him, the one that would allow her to lean against his outstretched arm. He was so open, so inviting, the dimples winking at her as she approached him. She sat, turning slightly toward him and just as she began to get comfortable, he surprised her by grabbing her wrist and jerking her toward him so that her long legs had no choice but to straddle his hips. She was so startled by the maneuver that she immediately acquiesced, her rear end sinking down so that it came to rest on his thighs. It all happened in one swift motion, her being pulled on top of him and his mouth beginning to devour her as if he had never eaten lunch.

  In seconds, he was pulling the charcoal gray sweater over her head and unfastening her bra with one hand, discarding both on the sofa beside them. Now her bare breasts were pressed against his flannel shirt as his hands stroked up and down her half-naked body until he pushed her back slightly, giving him room to cup her soft, creamy white breasts in his hands. He lifted each to his mouth in succession, planting a soft, wet kiss on both of her erect pink nipples.

  She sighed, partially with pleasure and partially with reticence. How can I let him do this when I barely know him? her conscience was crying out, trying to drown out the sound of her pounding heartbeat which was thundering away in her ribcage like an entire herd of wild horses.

  His eyes opened and locked onto hers, silently aski
ng her permission to continue. She knew exactly what he was asking and she felt his swelling manhood straining toward her through the denim. As if her mind had temporarily been held hostage by the growing desire between her legs and then suddenly released, dropped like a hot potato, she stiffened and slid her legs to the floor. Duty called. Plus Glory was whining in her cage, making it nearly impossible for Leah to solely concentrate on Cap. “I really need to get back to work, Cap,” she explained, her regret evident.

  She watched the dimples come back as he pretended to be perfectly alright with stopping there. “I hope I didn't offend you,” he said, oozing charm. “I just...god, Leah, I'm sorry...but I want you. Couldn't help myself just now.”

  Leah hooked her bra then slid it back around so that she could slip her arms through the straps and conceal her breasts again. “Oh, it's okay, just not the best timing,” she replied to his not-very-sorry apology. “Some other time?”

  “I know you'll be working on Saturday,” Cap said as he watched her dress. “But when you're done with work, if you want to come back to my place after the party, that would be...nice.” It felt like it took him a beat or two to decide on the word “nice” from among more salacious alternatives.

  Leah tried to imagine going back to his place after walking around a swinging party all night. I guess I've done stranger things before, she finally determined. A long time ago, of course. She promised him she'd think about it and then walked him to the door, leaving him with a hot imprint of her lips burning against his cheek.

  Maybe Aimee is right, maybe I do just need to get laid, she considered as she closed the door. She looked at her phone to see what she'd missed during lunch, and sure enough Aimee had texted her with an answer to the dress dilemma: Wear the green one. It's sexy, matches your eyes, and won't be too unprofessional. Plus it looks like it's easy to take off.

  SEVEN

  Give honor to marriage, and remain faithful to one another in marriage. God will surely judge people who are immoral and those who commit adultery. -Hebrews 13:4 (NLT)

  Leah couldn't remember ever feeling so nervous about hosting an event, not even during her internship in college where she had a ton of pressure riding on her to make everything perfect. It's just another party, she kept telling herself as she did her hair, applied makeup and slid on the green dress that Aimee had chosen for the evening. As she was getting ready to step out, her phone lit up with an incoming call from her parents' number. The contact photo was of her childhood home, a Brady-Bunch looking two-story with brown siding and very symmetrical blue-shuttered windows. Her first instinct was to answer because otherwise her mother would keep calling all night long, and, well, taking a call from her mother whilst “chaperoning” a swinger party just didn't seem right.

  “Hi, Mom,” she answered, hoping she could make the call snappy.

  “Leah Elizabeth Miller, I haven't heard from you in over a week! You didn't return my last phone call. I left a message!” Mrs. Miller's shrill voice pierced through her daughter's ear.

  She felt that shrillness shoot down to the pit of her stomach where it tumbled around with the remains of her dinner. “I know, Mom, I'm sorry. I've had a really crazy week.”

  “Too crazy to talk to your mother,” she sighed. “I sent off a Christmas package to you today. I just wanted you to keep an eye out. You know how long packages take to arrive from Nebraska. It's like they're traveling to another continent or something!”

  “I know,” Leah commiserated. “Crossing the Chesapeake Bay is almost like crossing the Atlantic, I guess. I need to get busy mailing home some stuff for all of you too, so thanks for reminding me.”

  “I still wish you'd come home to visit. We're having a lovely candlelight Christmas Eve service this year! Patty Bryson is singing with her two daughters. Do you remember Patty and her daughters Rachel and Anna?”

  “Of course, Mom.” It was amazing how sometimes her mother acted as if every memory her daughter had made in Wahoo had been magically erased upon her moving to Ocean City.

  “Well, your father has some really nice stuff planned and we would love to have you here for it,” she urged, her voice tinged with that guilt-inducing tone that all mothers can conjure up on command.

  “I wish I could,” Leah lied between her teeth, “but Barry needs me here plus Aimee will be calling me any day to tell me she's in labor!”

  “Is there a man that might be keeping you there for the holidays?” Mrs. Miller queried, her voice hopeful.

  “Oh, Mom, don't be ridiculous. It's just work and Aimee, I promise.” And that's not a lie, she told herself. Because who knows what Cap is doing for the holidays. I mean, he's going on that trip to Florida soon... “Okay, I'm sorry to cut you short, but I have to go into work tonight to manage a catered event.”

  “I see,” her mother responded, not disguising her disappointment. “Can you call me tomorrow after church then?”

  “Sure, Mom, no problem,” she vowed and finished her preparations for the evening by sliding her feet into four inch stiletto heels, a pair of shoes she'd never wear if not for wanting to capture the attention of a member of the opposite sex. If my mom only knew, Leah thought, wondering how quickly her parents would disown her if she were ever to become involved in the “lifestyle,” as Casey Fontaine and Cap called it.

  The lobby of The Pearl looked like a winter wonderland. Leah had supervised some of her staff wrapping each branch of the trees in white lights as well as the columns that delineated the rotunda between the front desk and the grand staircase to the second floor. The lights wrapped around the columns were also swathed in iridescent tulle which lent a soft, fairy-like effect as the halo of round “pearl” lights from the brass and oyster shell-motif chandelier shone down. Everything was soft and glowing, and despite the stilettos clicking against the marble tiles, she felt like she was floating on air as she made her way down the hall toward the ballroom.

  The ballroom was just as elegantly appointed as the lobby with pine boughs gracing every table along with pearlescent glass orbs aglow with candlelight. More Christmas trees were arranged in little bunches around the perimeter of the room, their lights twinkling like faraway stars. Leah suddenly remembered the legend of the first Christmas tree, when the father of the Protestant Church, Martin Luther, was walking home on Christmas Eve and saw the stars shining beautifully through the evergreens, inspiring him to decorate a tree with candles for his children.

  She froze momentarily at the clash of that thought and the next one that happened when she caught a glimpse of Cap out of the corner of her eye. She nearly wobbled out of her heels, so powerful the jolt resulting from juxtaposing those opposing forces: her faith and her lust.

  Why is my body so out of control when he is near? she chastised herself. She forcefully reined her thoughts back to the event she was managing. Although my mind is certainly not much better. Come on, Lord, help me get through this night. She regained her balance and recognized that he was walking toward her, having just finished helping the D.J. wheel in his equipment and park it near the table at the end of the room. Leah watched his long, self-assured gait and the smile that spread wide across his face as he made his approach.

  “Well, good evening, Miss Miller!” His salutation oozed from his lips like honey. She extended her hand, hoping he would shake it platonically, but instead he planted a soft kiss right below her knuckles. When she pulled her hand away, she could feel the slight moisture he'd left behind and couldn't help but remember what his lips felt like pressed against her neck in that curve leading to her shoulder.

  This is going to be a long night, she worried, hoping she could maintain her professionalism while fraternizing with Cap and his friends. She smiled cordially at him and then distracted herself by glancing over to watch the servers preparing the trays of salad and bread to be delivered to each round, crisp linen-covered table.

  “I know you're busy,” he offered, the sly smile still producing a dimple. “I'll come and find you later
once things get underway.” His promise was accompanied by a wink.

  She looked at him gratefully and nodded with her business-like smile attached. He is a gentleman, after all, she realized. She briefly thought about how after a few drinks, she might wish he was less so. But that's his hook...(damn it, another fishing reference)...he knows all about charm and class when it's required, and when it's not...he's a man who gets what he wants. And that is precisely why he's so dangerous...and exciting all at once. He once again reminded her of Will, that charisma, the confidence, the assertiveness. And we all know how that ended up, she rolled her eyes. She collected her mental list and began prioritizing everything she had to get done before the party was officially underway.

  Leah went about accomplishing all of her tasks, stopping into the kitchen to chat with the chef, making sure the head of the wait staff was ready for service, checking in with the bartenders, and asking the front desk staff if there had been any issues with check-ins. Everything appeared to be running optimally until Leah nearly bumped into Casey Fontaine. She was blazing in a fiery red sequined evening gown clinging to her ample curves, a brown mink stole (faux, Leah hoped) hanging from her shoulders. Her hair and makeup looked professionally applied. She was the epitome of glamor.

  “Oh, Ms. Fontaine, you look breathtaking!” Leah gushed just as Casey leapt toward her, enveloping her in a tight hug. Leah's lungs felt squished as she was overwhelmed by how strong the older woman's thick limbs were. She politely patted Ms. Fontaine's back as she tried to resist squirming away.