A disquieting expression across his features, Norman let go with a weak, squeaky laugh. “Darn tootin’, Big Willy,” he said with a wink, feebly punching the air with his fist.
Maisy wasn’t sure what surprised her more, Rudy’s impulsive, speed-of-light move or the fact that he was such a phenomenally good kisser. If this wasn’t one of the worst moments of her life she could really get into that succulent kiss of his. But right now she had to get the big, muscle-bound German off her before her lungs collapsed.
Shifting in her seat and pushing against Rudy’s massive chest, Maisy’s eyes darted from left to right and grew as large as pie tins as she spied an all-too-familiar man coming their way.
No, her thoughts screamed. Oh God, no! Please God, please don’t let that be Keller. I swear, Lord, I promise on Norman’s Grandma Gert’s grave that I’ll denounce chocolate for the next six months if you just let it be someone else…
No doubt about it. It was Keller Fitch all right.
Maisy shoved with all her might but the determined German wouldn’t budge. She guessed he had a point to prove to Big Willy and he was bound and determined to prove it.
Great. Just great.
Making frantic sounds through their kiss, Maisy shifted her eyes to Norman and back to Keller in the hopes that Norman would see him coming and could do something to get Rudy off her. Unfortunately, by the time Norman picked up on Maisy’s signals and realized what was happening, Keller and the shapely brunette with him were striding by their table.
“Oh shit,” Norman said, leaning his elbow on the table and covering his eyes with his hand.
Oh yeah, that really helped. Maisy’s heart sank.
Nonchalantly glancing toward their table as he passed by, Keller caught a glimpse of the kissing couple who were making a public spectacle of themselves. He did a classic cartoon double take when he realized the woman was Maisy.
While Maisy sank down in the seat to escape detection, the counterfeit smooch ripened into a full-blown lusty exhibition as Rudy, still passionately attached at the mouth—and tongue—sank down right along with her.
Chapter Seventeen
“Why. Just tell me why you think I would do something so unbelievably stupid as to arrange for Keller to come to the same restaurant as us last night,” Norman said the next afternoon. He’d toiled so hard to set things right for Maisy and Keller and she was being terribly ungrateful.
“Because that’s your nature.” Maisy lowered the passenger side visor of Norman’s Cadillac, checked herself out in the mirror and groaned
“You sound like a sick cow, Maisy.”
“I’ve never worn so much makeup before in my life. I barely even recognize myself. I look like a vampire in this black wig.”
“Nonsense. You look amazing. Very…gothic. Now stop griping.”
“Of all the restaurants in Chicagoland, you’re going to tell me Keller just happened to choose the same one?” She slammed the visor back in place. “I don’t buy it, Norman. Not for a minute.”
“Use your head, Maisy. Why would I go through the trouble of concocting such a brilliant plan only to—”
“Brilliant?” Maisy scoffed. “Norman Stanley, you are certifiable, do you know that?”
“It was brilliant. It worked, didn’t it? Wilson’s off your back because he’s convinced you’re happily married and he’s got an appointment to see Sharon this afternoon. “Besides,” he patted Maisy’s hand, “Big Willy chose the restaurant, not me. It was sheer coincidence that Keller was there.”
“Do you think he recognized me?”
Cringing, Norman couldn’t avoid spilling forth with a volley of nervous laughter as he remembered watching Keller’s classic double take. And the way he’d craned his neck as Maisy and Rudy slid down the seat of the booth in what looked like the heat of passion.
“Eh…yeah, I’m afraid so,” he admitted. There really wasn’t any use lying about it. Half the restaurant was aghast at the tawdry display. Norman tugged at his shirt collar and stretched his neck.
“Oh Norman…” Maisy’s shoulders slumped as she gave in to an involuntary shudder. “What must he think?”
Norman sure as hell wasn’t about to tell poor Maisy the truth. She was too close to killing him in cold blood as it was. “That you’re a passionate and desirable young woman who can’t keep her suitors at arm’s length,” he said instead. “I’ll bet Keller was jealous as hell when he saw Rudy climbing all over you like that.”
“Either that or he thinks I’m a cheap tramp who’s into exhibitionism.”
Norman figured that was probably closer to the truth. He cocked his head thoughtfully. “That could be a definite turn-on. In fact, I’m betting Keller made good use of a bottle of hand lotion and a box of tissues last night when he was thinking about that hot little scene with you and Rudy.”
“Norman, that’s terrible.” Maisy slapped his arm. “Did you get a load of that sexy brunette draped over his arm?”
“You’re exaggerating. She wasn’t draped. There wasn’t even any body contact between them.”
“But she was sexy.”
“Well…maybe a little,” Norman admitted with a hesitant shrug. The woman was a definite knockout. Cover girl material. “Maybe she’s a business associate.”
“You mean like his chief grape crusher, perhaps?”
“Grape crusher.” Norman laughed. “That’s a good one.” Beaming a sprightly smile, he glanced toward Maisy, who sported a sullen glare.
“What if they’re lovers?”
“I doubt it,” he lied, “but that’s all the more reason for us to proceed with phase two of our plan so you can snag Keller and reel him in before the grape crusher has a chance to bottle him up all for herself.” Norman grinned, quite pleased with his wittiness.
“Very metaphoric.” Maisy rolled her eyes. “What’s with this our plan stuff? This incredibly moronic phase two idea is solely your brainchild, Norman.”
“Well, I just hate to hog all the credit. Come on, Maisy, it’s an ingenious plan, and you know it.” Seizing a quick glance in the rearview mirror, Norman sprouted a wry grin as he fingered the brim of his hat. He was the epitome of style. Class personified. “Just look at us.”
“My point exactly. Look at us!” She flipped down the visor again and gazed into the mirror. “We look like Boris and Natasha for chrissakes.”
Norman chuckled. “Boris and Natasha. I like that. Very funny. I guess it’s better than going into Henshaw Realtors looking like Rocky and Bullwinkle, huh?”
“That remains to be seen,” Maisy huffed. “I can’t believe I’m actually going along with this cockeyed scheme of yours. What if Sharon recognizes us?”
“Relax, Maisy. It’s not going to happen. With that long black wig and those big dark glasses you’re wearing, she’ll never suspect a thing. And with my dapper new mustache,” Norman patted the fake mustache that was spirit gummed above his upper lip, “and my snappy fedora and dark glasses, that little bitch wouldn’t recognize me in a million years.”
Norman slapped Maisy’s hand away before she could gnaw on a fingernail. “You have to remember not to do that,” he instructed. “They’ll come off.”
Maisy glanced at the fake, long crimson nails she’d donned to complete her undercover agent look and groaned. She checked herself out in the mirror again. “This red lipstick is so dark it’s practically black.”
“No it’s not. It’s movie-siren crimson. My show business friend told me so.”
“He’s a female impersonator, Norman. That’s what I look like. And I still don’t see why you insisted on penciling in the fake beauty mark above the corner of my mouth. It looks ridiculous.”
“It’s a necessary component of the disguise.”
“What if Keller comes into the real estate office to visit his sister while we’re there? I’d die if he caught us. How would I ever explain something like this in a million years?”
Norman studied Maisy’s appearance and shrugge
d. “Granted, it might be a little difficult to explain, but—”
“A little?”
Norman sighed. “Honestly, Maisy, you’re such a worrywart. Even if Keller bumped into you head-on, he’d never know you in that get-up. Trust me.”
“Why is it whenever I hear you say those words I shudder right down to my liver, Norman?”
“Because you’re being silly. Maisy, nobody’s going to think we’re anything more than an average married couple interested in buying a house.” He gave Maisy a sideways glance. “Of course, if you’d rather we didn’t go, I can always turn back.”
“I really couldn’t care less.” Maisy stretched her hands in front of her, studying the glossy red talons.
Norman knew he had her. “Okay, let’s just call it off then. I’ll turn around at the corner and we can head back.”
Maisy folded her arms across her chest and stared at Norman a minute, smirking. “Quit trying to bait me, Norman. You know damn well I want to go. I’ve got to see what transpires between the slut and the cowboy with my own eyes.”
“That’s my girl.” Norman beamed a smile. “We’ll only stay long enough to see how everything is progressing with our little matchmaking venture and then we’ll skedaddle out of there. It’s a cinch. Trust me.”
* * * * *
“Gotta go,” Sharon Fitch Morganfield said into the telephone. “My one o’clock’s here. From what I understand, he’s got mega bucks.” She cackled at her friend’s comment.
“Are you kidding?” she replied. “I don’t care if he’s deaf, blind, bald and limbless.” She cackled again. “As long as he’s got big bucks I’m his girl. Hell, after being tied down to that cheating bastard husband of mine, I damn well deserve to meet someone loaded. Someone who can give me the life I deserve. Furs, diamonds, a mansion with my very own hunky pool boy…” Another cackle.
After some final chitchat, Sharon planted the receiver in the cradle, stood up and adjusted her skin-hugging navy knit dress. She knew she looked hot because she’d gotten those poisonous glares from the other women in the office when she came in earlier. The sort of looks that telegraphed envy. Sharon looked down at her conspicuous cleavage and smiled.
“God, I love these new tits.”
A quick lipstick check and a fluff of her hair and she was off to the lobby to greet her new client.
“Well, lookee here,” the big, strapping cowboy said, giving Sharon a slow, agreeable once-over as she rounded the corner and introduced herself. “Danged if you ain’t just as purdy as my cousin…uh, I mean, my business associate, said you were. Come on over here, little lady and let me get a good look at you.”
Sharon momentarily found herself at a loss for words. And that was rare. The tall, handsome Texan in the costly Stetson, expensive duds and megabucks cowboy boots was magnificent. Not at all what she’d expected.
“Well howdy there, big fella,” she cooed, her eyelashes all a-flutter. God damn, this guy was a stud. Her pussy was drooling already. “You’re not so hard on the eyes yourself,” she added, planting her hands on her hips and thrusting her new tits forward. She looked down at the card in her hand. “Wilson Jasper. Who was it that referred you to me, Mr. Jasper?”
The cowboy doffed his Stetson. “Name’s Big Willy, ma’am.” He winked and Sharon’s eyes flashed with interest.
From his smooth, confident stance she’d bet he was big—all over. Her gaze fell to the bulge at his crotch and her cunt watered again.
He stroked his jaw and shook his head slowly. “Can’t rightly say as how I remember exactly who referred me, ma’am. A man in my powerful position deals with so many important people on a daily basis it’s hard to remember one from another. A corporate chairman here, a news anchor there, a Saudi sheik here, a governor there…” Big Willy shrugged. “After a while all them big shots just sorta run together if ya know what I mean, ma’am.”
The door behind them opened and a couple came in. After exchanging a few words, the receptionist showed the trench coat-garbed pair to one of the wall-of-windows offices lining the real estate office’s interior.
“Of course.” Sharon nodded, returning her full attention to the Southern-fried prize before her. “I understand completely, Big Willy.” She liked saying his name. It was so…promising. She downright trembled as she allowed her gaze to take in every inch of the to-die-for cowboy. Oh yeah, she’d have this choice cut lassoed, naked and busting her bronco before the night was over.
“Big Willy?” she said, stepping close and fingering the silver state-of-Texas-shaped slide on his bolo string tie.
He looked down at her with a lazy, liquid smile. “Yes, ma’am?”
“Call me Sharon…please.”
“Sharon,” Big Willy repeated, clasping her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing her fingers as he gazed into her eyes.
The big gorgeous hunk of Texas beef had her so on edge with expectation, Sharon nearly climaxed right there in the middle of Henshaw Real Estate’s lobby.
* * * * *
“Did you see that?” Norman whispered. “What’d I tell you? She’s drooling all over Wilson. She can’t wait to fuck him.”
Maisy lowered her dark glasses just enough to peer over the frames. “I’ve gotta hand it to you, Norman,” she said softly. “You were right on target with this one.” She gazed quickly around the room and breathed in a sharp exclamation. Tugging on the sleeve of Norman’s trench coat, she said, “Norman, look. Up there on the shelf.”
Norman looked up to see a row of wine bottles from Keller’s Cellars. “Good luck…best wishes…much happiness…” he read aloud from the labels. “All the labels are personalized. Must be names of buyers and their new addresses.”
“Yeah, they’re sales gifts. Keller told me about it that day we went on the picnic.” Maisy hated what happened every time she mentioned or even thought about Keller. Her insides got all primed, hot, wet and ready for a delicious invasion—one that would probably never happen.
Even now as she sat in a public place, looking like a Russian transvestite, her panties got moist and her clit gave a little quiver of anticipation. She was hopeless. Her growing arsenal of multi-featured vibrators was getting one hell of a workout lately. She was going broke on batteries.
“Clever idea,” Norman said, snapping Maisy back to the present. “I’d like to look into personalized wine bottles for our clients.”
“Shhh,” Maisy said, putting her finger to her lips. “They’re coming this way.”
Sharon led Big Willy to the office right next to Norman and Maisy’s.
“You just take a seat there, cowboy, and get comfy while I get you that cup of coffee,” Sharon cooed. “That was four sugars and no cream. Black as—”
“A spear-chucker’s heinie,” Big Willy finished.
Sharon giggled. “That’s such a cute little phrase.”
“Not near as cute as you are, lil’ lady.”
Maisy wanted to gag. “Eeew, they’re absolutely made for each other,” she whispered.
“Hate to say I told you so.” Norman reveled in a smug smile. “Actually, that’s not true. I love saying it.”
An eager-looking man entered the office and extended his hand to Norman. “I’m Joe Fletcher. I understand you and the missus are in the market for a new house.”
Norman cleared his throat. “Yes, we’d like to take a look through some of your listings,” he said in an indeterminate accent, his voice a full octave lower than normal.
He ignored Maisy’s questioning expression. Norman had conveniently neglected to mention the fact that they’d be using foreign accents.
“Certainly. Just let me get a little bit of information from you,” the salesman said as he positioned himself behind the computer. “Your name?”
“Eh…Boris,” Norman said, and Maisy shot him an astonished look. “Boris and Natasha. Smith.” Norman shrugged and Maisy rolled her eyes as the salesman input the information, eyeing them skeptically.
“Do you
currently have a house to sell?”
“No,” Norman answered. “We just arrived…from Yugoslavia. On the boat.”
Looking through the glass wall, Maisy noticed Sharon coming back into the next room with Big Willy’s coffee.
“You go now,” Maisy said to the salesman, mimicking Norman’s deep voice and nondescript accent. “We will look at your books alone for a while.” Her voice was bold and authoritative as she pulled the stack of multiple listing books toward her.
With a dubious look, the salesman shrugged and complied, saying he’d check on them later.
“Boris and Natasha?” Maisy whapped Norman in the arm as soon as the salesman left the room. “From Yugoslavia?”
Norman shrugged. “It’s all I could think of after you mentioned the names in the car. That’s why I added the Smith—to make it sound more ordinary.”
“Oh yeah,” Maisy said, “that really worked.”
“Shhh, listen, Sharon and Wilson are talking.”
“So what type of business are you in, Big Willy?” Sharon said, sitting in the chair across from Big Willy, crossing her legs and allowing her dress to creep up far enough to thoroughly tantalize the horny Texan.
“Whew. Just lookin’ at you is makin’ my temperature rise, honey.” Removing his Stetson, Big Willy fanned himself. “I work at a little of this and a little of that.”
He never took his eyes from Sharon’s legs. She unfolded them and leisurely crossed them again. Maisy couldn’t help but wonder if she was going sans panties. The disagreeable thought made her features scrunch into a curious frown.
“Oil, elevators, cattle, finance, real estate… You name it, darlin’, and I’ve probably had a stake in it at one time or another.” He looked slowly from Sharon’s legs to her plastic breasts to her face and broadcast a wide, lazy smile.
Sharon sat there giving him the eye as he watched her lick her lips and twist her index finger through her hair.
“Right now,” he continued, “I need to sell off my investment properties here in the Chicago area because I’m movin’ to Russia, over there in the USSR, for a while on business.”
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