Never Too Late

by Patricia Watters

  But tonight would be her turn with Alessandro, her chance to be completely free of Jerry before their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary tomorrow. Neither she nor Jerry had talked about the upcoming event and she hoped to keep it that way and let the day pass, unnoticed. Tonight, with Alessandro, she was certain she'd forget she was Mrs. Jerry Porter, because she was, for all practical purposes, no longer Jerry's wife.

  She could do it with Alessandro. All she'd have to do would be to strip off her clothes, shut her eyes, think about Jerry bumping and grinding in the octopus briefs, pretend Alessandro was Jerry, and try to let go and enjoy the ride. Who knows? Maybe Alessandro would bring out the fire and passion Jerry once had. But with Jerry, lovemaking had also been fun. And free. Things just happened. Wild, crazy things. A little deviant perhaps. Kinky, most definitely. And incredibly satisfying...

  Until Scott came along. Then things changed. Jerry changed. She changed.

  But maybe that was the way things happened. When one love faded, it was time to build another. Alessandro was put together right, definitely a man in his prime, and tonight she'd make an honest attempt to enjoy what she and Jerry once had...

  "Having cocktails with your I-S again tonight?" Jerry asked.

  Andrea looked at him, puzzled.

  "I-S. Italian Stud," Jerry explained.

  "Now who's being trendy?" Andrea quipped. "And yes, Alessandro is expecting me. He's really a very charming and interesting man. I enjoy his company immensely."

  "So he turns you on, does he?" Jerry mused.

  "I don't believe that's any of your business," Andrea clipped.

  Jerry let out a short guffaw. "Baby, it's written all over your face. I know that look. It comes when you let go of your South Carolina inhibitions. But does your stud get you to strip and dance on the bed, or twirl a jock strap between your teeth, or kneel at his feet and slither your way slowly up the length of his naked body?"

  Andrea looked at Jerry, stunned. She couldn't deny doing those things, and much more. And she couldn't imagine doing them with any man but Jerry. Why it was that way, she couldn't explain. Just that it was. Lifting her chin, she said, with an air of calm, self-assurance, "My relationship with Alessandro is on a much deeper level."

  Jerry's loud laugh had heads turning their way. He gave the onlookers a contrite smile, then said to Andrea, in a sober tone, "If you haven't figured it out yet, sweetheart, the man will go as deep as your pockets will allow."

  Andrea bristled. "And I know for a fact that Alessandro appreciates me as a woman, and you can't stand the thought of that."

  "Keep believing whatever you want," Jerry said. "But while you're living in La La Land, you might ask yourself if Alessandro Cavallaro would have given you a second glance if he'd passed you in a grocery aisle. Then ask yourself the same question if he saw you pulling your BMW up to Daddy Ellison's twenty-two-room mansion in Mt. Pleasant."

  Thoroughly miffed by Jerry's condescending attitude, Andrea said, "Not every man is after me because of my father's money. You noticed me my first day at college when I was wearing my roommate's old jeans and tee-shirt because my bags hadn't arrived and you thought I was a poor college coed who didn't have two dimes to rub together."

  "Hell, Andrea, that was twenty-five years ago. You're not nineteen anymore, and Cavallaro's a man in his prime who's at least ten years younger than you."

  "Many younger men in their prime like older women," Andrea huffed, struggling to maintain her composure, determined not to become defensive.

  Jerry let out a short guffaw. "Sure they do, as long as those older women have money. Take a look around at the single women aboard. Any one of a dozen in this room have more going for them for a man in his prime than you. But Cavallaro's not just a man in his prime. He's a gigolo, which eliminates all the hot little numbers ready to crawl into his bed, and narrows the playing field to you and a half-dozen other older women aboard. Compared to them, sure he'd rather have you in his bed while picking your pocket. You're still reasonably good-looking for a middle-aged woman."

  Hand gripping her water glass, Andrea was primed to hurl its contents in Jerry's face when the Danforths arrived.

  Lillian Danforth looked from one to the other, and said, "I hope we're not interrupting something."

  "Actually, you're just in time," Andrea said. "Jerry and I were having a disagreement about the way society views a relationship between an older woman and a younger man, as compared to an older man and a woman young enough to be his daughter. When it's an older woman, it's assumed she has money. But when it's an older man—"

  "Andrea's touchy about her age," Jerry said, cutting her off. "But I think we can all agree she's not bad for a woman pushing fifty."

  "Forty-five," Andrea corrected.

  "Pushing forty-five then," Jerry said. "At least I find her attractive."

  Lillian Danforth smiled. "So does that tall young Italian I saw her with earlier, which, I assume, was what prompted the disagreement."

  Jerry eyed Andrea, and said, "She got a little testy when I brought it up. But I was warning her about gigolos. An attractive older woman travelling alone is a prime target."

  "Yes, I imagine she is," Lillian replied. "I'm sure Andrea is aware of it though." She looked at Andrea and waited.

  Andrea laughed lightly. "I have my Frommer's Guide along," she said. "I know all about gigolos and purse snatchers and walking alone at night, and all the other dangers lurking out there, so there's no reason for anyone to worry." She shot one last glare at Jerry, who gave a little grunt of disgust before stabbing a cherry tomato in his salad.

  The Danforths took their places at the table and ordered their meals, and while everyone ate, the subject of shipboard relationships never came up again, the conversation jockeying between Edward Danforth's years in the Army, and Charlie Danforth's memories of growing up as an Army brat. Fond memories, it seemed. Their waiter had just cleared the first course, when the Danforth's son, Ned, turned to his father, and said, "Dad, when we dock in Nassau the Robinsons are going snorkeling and Jimmy asked if I could go with them. Can I?"

  Charlie Danforth hesitated for a moment, then glanced at his son, and replied, "We don't know the Robinsons, so no. Not this time."

  Ned looked at his mother. "Mom, talk to Dad. Get him to let me go."

  "You heard your father, Ned. The answer is no."

  Ned, seeming to drop the subject, continued eating.

  Andrea sat silently watching the boy, but she could almost feel Jerry's response to the interchange between the boy and his parents. Bafflement. Just as she was feeling. With Scott, there would have been an exhausting argument, and if he didn't get his way he'd play one parent against the other. Invariably, one of them would cave, and Scott would put that victory in his arsenal of parental manipulations to use during the next confrontation.

  Ned never brought up the subject of snorkeling again, but as soon as they were finished desert, he asked to be excused. After he'd gone, Andrea said to the Danforths, "Your son is so well-behaved. You must be very proud of him."

  Lillian laughed. "He's a work in progress. And yes, he's pretty much the focus of our lives. As you must have noticed, we're on the old side to have a fourteen-year-old boy. After we'd tried every fertility drug on the market, and followed all the usual... methods, the doctor told us to stop spending our time trying to get pregnant and find a place to just relax and enjoy each other. Two days later we flew to a resort in Nassau, spent six days beachcombing and snorkeling, and being with each other and remembering what it was like when we just let things happen, and it worked. Nine months later, Ned was born."

  "But he doesn't seem in the least bit spoiled," Andrea said, wondering if there was another side to the boy, a side he hid when in public. "He accepted your refusal to let him go snorkeling with his friend without question."

  Lillian laughed. "He knows better than to try. Charlie and I vowed when I finally got pregnant that no matter how much we might disagree on how to hand
le our child when issues came up, we'd always present a united front to him."

  "But what if you'd disagreed with Charlie earlier?" Andrea asked.

  Lillian laughed. "Charlie already knew I agreed with him. We have this signal system with nudging and blinking. One nudge or blink means I agree completely, two means absolutely not, and three means let's talk about it and let him know later. We've been using it since Ned was old enough to understand that what Mommy and Daddy says goes." She looked at her husband and smiled. "Believe me, Charlie and I have disagreed many times behind the scenes, and Charlie's had to give in to me as much as I've had to give in to him. But when Ned gets his answer from us, or is given his punishment for bad behavior, Charlie and I always appear to be in agreement."

  Charlie tipped his wine glass toward his father, who was smiling at him. "That guy across the table from you showed me the way," he said, affectionately. "He and my mother were a formidable pair when they said no. Thanks, Dad."

  The old man beamed. "Your mother would have been proud to hear you say that."

  ***

  Alone in the honeymoon suite that night, Jerry lay stretched on the bed, his mind divided between what might be going on in Alessandro Cavallaro's stateroom, and the exchange at the table with the Danforths earlier. At the moment, he was mulling over the Danforths and their handling of their son. Mistakes he and Andrea made with Scott were becoming clear for the first time in years. Eighteen years too late. Scott had been difficult from the start—colicky and fretful as an infant, prone to tantrums as a toddler, manipulative and controlling as a teenager. But the one thing his parents were consistent about throughout the whole challenge of raising him was that they never seemed to agree on what to do with him. What's more, they never presented a united front. Scott would play one against the other until he got his way...

  A rapping on the door had him quick to open it, suspecting it might be Andrea, who would have also been mulling over the Danforth's exchange at the table and wanted to talk about it. But to his annoyance, he found Val standing in the doorway.

  "Hi there, sugar pie," she said, slipping past him. "I've come prepared this time." She turned to him and held up a little red foil packet, then dropped it on the bedstand. "It's my favorite flavor. Wild Cherry."

  "Look, about last night—"

  "What happened last night is nothing to be embarrassed about, sugar dumpling," Val said. "Many men your age have failures. But I guarantee we can fix it. That's what sugar babies are for. To be your companion, your helpmate, and your lover." She slipped her arms around his neck and said, "I'm going to fire up your engine and have your piston back in working order before the night's done."

  Jerry pulled her arms from around his neck. "You don't need to fix anything—"

  "What I saw last night definitely needs fixing, honey bun." In one practiced sweep, Val slipped off her tee shirt and tossed it on the bed then stood in front of him in a red lace half-bra that came across to him as more of a serving platter than a support garment, and what she was offering simply didn't interest him. "Put it back on," he said.

  Val looked at him, perplexed. When she did nothing, Jerry snatched up her shirt and held it out. "I said, put it back on." While she stood looking at him, as if at a loss what to do, he said, "How old are you?"

  Val smiled in relief and tossed the shirt back on the bed. "If that's what's worrying you, I'm of age," she assured him. "Twenty-two to be exact." She stretched out on the bed like a languorous lioness and patted the bed beside her, and when he made no move, she tucked her fingers into the waistband of his sweat pants and tugged.

  Jerry grabbed her wrist. "You're the same age as my middle daughter," he said.

  Val gave him a wry smile. "Does she like older men too?"

  "You're through here," Jerry snapped. He grabbed her hand and pulled her upright, then snatched the shirt from the bed and shoved it against her chest. "Put it on and go find another sugar daddy because I'm not interested." He opened the door for her to leave.

  Val was in the process of tugging the shirt over her head when Andrea appeared in the doorway. By the time Val's head popped through the head hole, she was already heading down the passageway and had not seen Andrea, who'd slipped into Jerry's stateroom unnoticed.

  Andrea eyed the bed, which looked mussed, and said with irony, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything, but you and I have a date tomorrow. It is our anniversary, in case you've forgotten."

  "I haven't forgotten," Jerry grumbled, "but I don't remember any plans."

  "That's because there weren't any until the steward handed me this fax a few minutes ago. It's from the girls." She handed the paper to Jerry. While he read the message informing them that when the ship docked in Nassau, a horse and buggy would be waiting at the docks to take them to a special place, then to a restaurant where they'd have a romantic dinner, Andrea lifted the condom from the table and read the writing on the red-foil wrapping. "Wild cherry," she mused. "I would have thought Val more the cinnamon type." Jerry went to grab the condom, but Andrea snatched it out of reach.

  She gave him a cynical smile. "At least you're being responsible, sugar pie. You'd have a hard time explaining to our daughters how you managed to get some bimbo pregnant while on a cruise they'd given us as an anniversary gift, not to mention the awkwardness of presenting them with a sibling younger than our grandkids."

  Jerry snatched the foil packet from her. "I'm not even going to respond to that," he said. "What happens in here is none of your damn business." He yanked open the drawer to the bedstand, tossed the packet inside and shoved the drawer closed.

  "Actually I don't care what goes on in here," Andrea said. "If it were up to me I'd suggest that either you and your sugar baby go to the romantic restaurant, or Alessandro and I go. But since it will be our twenty-fifth anniversary, and the girls expect us to spend it with each other, out of respect for them and all the trouble they've gone to, I say we call a truce for a few hours and bear it out. As soon as it's over we can go our separate ways. I, for one, have plans afterwards, as I'm sure you do too."

  Jerry stared at the fax. For twenty-five years he'd been faithful to Andrea. Never once had he strayed. He'd checked out women from a distance, on occasion, and in the past year found himself fantasizing about how a particular woman might be in bed, but until boarding the ship, it had never occurred to him to strip naked with any woman but Andrea. Yet, last night, he'd shed his clothes and stretched out in bed while Val stood in front of him, peeling off each piece of clothing with the skill of a seasoned stripper. But when everything was go, he couldn't do it. "I suppose we'll have to go through with this dinner thing then," he said begrudgingly.

  "Unfortunately, you're right," Andrea replied. "And we're supposed to dress-to-please. The girls were specific about that. So thinking ahead of the evening, wear something that will make Val horny." She smiled. "I know exactly what I'm going to wear. It will drive Alessandro to distraction."

  Jerry knew then that Andrea planned to wear the one dress that used to drive him to distraction, and he wondered how he'd handle it, knowing she'd be going straight from dinner with him to her Italian stud. It was going to be one hell of a long evening.

  ***

  What caught Andrea's attention, as the ship cruised along Cable Beach at the west end of New Providence Island on its way to Prince George Wharf, where they'd be docking, was the luxury resorts and glitzy casinos lining the beach. Nassau was the hub of activity in the Bahamas, with its shops and restaurants and dance clubs. But none of that interested her now. Five years ago she and Jerry would have strolled through the streets of Nassau, hand-in-hand, while browsing the straw market and the bazaar, or they might have rented mopeds to tour the island. But all she wanted now was to get through the afternoon and evening with Jerry, and return to the ship, where Alessandro would be waiting for her.

  The ship pulled into Nassau in early afternoon, and after being cleared by customs, passengers were free to tour Nassau and New Provide
nce Island. But a couple of hours before setting out with Jerry, Andrea decided to come clean with Alessandro about Jerry and the divorce, and tell him about their anniversary dinner. Alessandro had been clearly disappointed that she wouldn't be joining him for dinner in his stateroom because he'd ordered a meal that included lobster thermidor. But he was also sweet and understanding, and settled for after-dinner drinks and watching a late night movie on the TV in his stateroom. And cuddling a little, he'd informed her in his lovely Italian accent. Nothing more. Which emboldened Andrea to want to do more, especially since Jerry would be with Val.

  She rummaged through the bag with the gifts she'd purchased from the novelty shop on C Deck and pulled out the octopus briefs. She still didn't know what possessed her buy them. She wouldn't be giving them to Jerry, and Alessandro was far too reserved to cavort around like Jerry would. But maybe lovemaking wasn't intended to be fun. Maybe it was supposed to be the joining of two people, while also the joining of two souls. Although she'd felt that with Jerry, it had still been fun, and funny, and exciting, until their heightened senses turned to passion...

  She sighed, pulled open a dresser drawer and tucked the briefs under her clothes. She didn't want Val to see them and maybe want to give them to Jerry. The thought of him prancing around for another woman was troubling. Everything was still too new.

  Two hours later, Andrea slipped into her green and tan sundress and put on a pair of tan stiletto heels she'd purchased, along with a matching handbag, from one of the specialty shops on the ship. She'd had her hair styled at the ship's beauty parlor—trimmed, feathered, and moussed. Her father would be pleased. Just as he'd be pleased when he learned she and Jerry would be calling it quits.

  As she stood in front of the long mirror on the wardrobe, she tried to imagine Alessandro's lips on the swells of her breasts created by the uplift foundation. But what emerged in her mind's eye was Jerry's expression the first time he'd seen her in the dress. She'd been standing in front of a mirror, much as she was now, and Jerry came up behind her, curved his hands around her, his palms adding a little more uplift, and kissed the hollow of her shoulder, and whispered in her ear, "Baby, you're really turning me on now." The dress came off in half the time it took her to put it on, and Jerry took over from there...