For Your Love

by Caine, Candy

  As they swayed to the music, Richard lived up to his boast and proved to be a competent dancer. He held her so close, that she could feel his thigh against hers. Carla was getting her mind wrapped around the tiny blips of pleasure that contact gave her when another couple accidentally jostled Richard and her, pressing her squarely into his arousal. Every nerve ending in Carla’s body began to tingle as she felt Richard grow even harder.

  Luckily, the song ended and everyone was asked to be seated. The first course was about to be served. Carla knew it was wrong to have enjoyed the accidental contact, being married, but it had been pleasurable, just the same.

  At the table she talked with the other lawyers and their wives or girlfriends. She had been introduced as Richard’s friend and no one made any reference to her wedding band. They were impressed that she was an author.

  Carla and Richard had several more dances before dessert and time to go. She found herself a trifle disappointed that Richard was more careful not to repeat what had happened during their first dance. He walked her down to her car.

  “Thank you for coming tonight, Carla. You were a hit at our table.”

  “I wouldn’t have missed it. Thank you for asking me,” she said and went to kiss his cheek.

  Only, at that moment, Richard turned to say something to her and their lips met. A spark of electricity arced straight through her. Her brain was screaming for her to break away from him, while her heart lusted for more.

  “Carla.” Richard breathed, as he broke contact. His eyes bored into hers heatedly. Then suddenly his lips were on hers again, fervently, his tongue tracing her lips.

  Shockwaves and warning bells went off in Carla’s head. Then, as if suddenly they remembered who they were, they broke apart swiftly.

  Richard began to apologize, but she stopped him. She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and got into her car. He watched her drive away and stood there until her taillights had disappeared from sight.

  Carla drove home wondering what the hell just happened. Whatever it was, she liked it. Too bad, though. There was no way she could allow something like that to happen again. She couldn’t take her focus off her goal of winning Martin back from his bimbo. That was the main reason for starving herself all these months, wasn’t it?

  No surprise when she walked into the house. Martin wasn’t home. She was glad. She didn’t have to explain why she was all dressed up and could even wear the same dress for Martin’s birthday dinner. Speaking of which, he’d already been asking her what she had planned.

  She called Richard to let him know she got home safely. Again he began to apologize for the kiss.

  “Hey, if I knew you were such a good kisser, I would have kissed you a long time ago. Don’t sweat it. I had a really nice time tonight.”

  “Thank you, Carla—for everything.”

  “Goodnight, Richard.”

  He wished her a goodnight and they hung up.

  * * *

  Richard took his suit off and grabbed a bottle of water from his fridge. He didn’t want to think about Carla and the kiss. That’s the last thing he wanted to do, so he went to retrieve a file from his briefcase. He sat down and opened it. It was the deposition of a witness. He began to read through it.

  His mind began to wander. He relived the taste of Carla’s mouth. It was nearly possible for him to feel her lips on his. The more he tried not to think about Carla, of course, the more he did.

  She brought out feelings in him he thought were long gone with his ex-fiancée when she married his best friend.

  The image of Carla’s slender long neck and the swells above her breasts in that dress—

  It didn’t take long for the image to make him rock-solid hard. All he had to do was close his eyes and fantasize her touching him, kissing him…He pulled off his boxer shorts.

  He imagined it was her hand that was closing over his shaft, sliding down toward its base and up again; moving slowly, at first, causing shivers of delight to spread in his loins. As his pace quickened, his breath grew ragged. The pleasure intensified and heat rippled under his skin until he gasped and called out her name. He ejaculated onto his shorts, feeling like a thirteen year-old getting off by reading his father’s “Playboy” magazine. Oh, God. What was he going to do?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Martin looked forward to celebrating his birthday. When he’d hit the big three-five, he knew he looked just as good as he had when he was at twenty-five and now at thirty-eight, nothing had changed. He chalked it up to good genes. Speaking of looking good, he thought of Carla. Her diet and visits to the gym seemed to be paying off. He had to hand it to her, she’d sure stuck to it. He never thought that she, of all people, would have the fortitude to do so. Since he’d known her, she’d always enjoyed dessert and had a ravenous sweet tooth. Chocolate always filled their pantry. Sitting at a desk writing all day with little or no exercise, she packed on the pounds easily. Taking them off, well, that had to be something. Where had all that willpower come from?

  Then, just as if a window shade lifted in the corner of his mind, a thought occurred to him. Had she found out about Heather? Was she on the prowl as Heather had suggested? A moment later, the shade dropped. No matter how docile she was, she would have confronted him by now had she known. After all, that’s what women do best. She probably took a good look at herself and gasped. She was most likely doing it all to look great for him.

  Growing up, he witnessed at least three arguments a week between his parents. His mother, a prim and proper woman would find a matchbook from some club in her husband’s coat and the next thing, verbal bombs were being hurled at Martin Senior. She had a suspicious mind and he’d seen her going through his dad’s things looking for the evidence of his infidelity. In hindsight, Martin realized that his plain-Jane mother feared losing her handsome husband to another woman. The fact that his father had cheated on his wife didn’t factor into the equation. He was certain that had his father not seduced his mother on a dare and impregnated her, he would have never married her. There was one other thing that his parents taught him. A great deal of information could be gleaned during an argument.

  Then Heather’s other statement came back to him about the possibility of Carla’s cheating on him. That was a laugh. One look in those big doe eyes of hers and he’d know the truth. His wife didn’t have one deceitful bone in her entire body. She wrote stories for children, for God’s sake.

  Martin’s mind shifted back to his birthday. The anticipation was building inside him. Because his birthday was so close to Christmas, he’d often been cheated out of birthday presents by his parents and family who seemed to think a gift marked “Happy Birthday & Merry Christmas” was okay. He always liked how Carla planned a special event for him, and he couldn’t help but wonder what she had in store for that evening. Since he was unable to focus on work, he left the showroom early. Heather knowing it was his birthday had promised they’d have their own celebration. Running a comb through his thick, blond hair in the men’s room, he thought how great it was to be him.

  A middle-aged woman gave him the eye as she passed him in the parking lot. Yeah, life was good.

  * * *

  Carla was taking Martin to the Scarborough Fair, a trendy restaurant in downtown Scottsdale for his birthday. They had reservations for eight and she hoped he’d get home early enough to give them enough travel time to get there. Knowing his propensity for lateness—he’d probably be late for his own funeral—she’d told him the reservations were for seven-thirty even though she’d made it for eight. All she could do now was shower, dress and hope for the best.

  Martin came into the bedroom just as Carla was slipping into her new black dress. He watched as it slowly dropped down over her newly defined curves. When she saw him standing there, she noticed his jaw had dropped as if a hinge had given way.

  She looked at him inquisitively. “What?”

  Without a word, he walked over and took her in his arms and kissed her. Had she b
een wearing socks, that kiss would have blown them off. That kiss brought back a flood of warm memories of how it had been between them. Just as Lynne had said.

  Realizing they didn’t have that much wiggle time to fool around, she pushed him away. “Get ready because we have to leave soon for the restaurant.”

  Dutifully, he stripped to go into the shower. Sitting at her dressing table brushing her hair, Carla watched him in the mirror as he undressed. She missed running her hands down his hard, muscled body and playing with the crisp golden hair on his chest. Perhaps, when they got home later, there’d be plenty of time to do that and more. Then something occurred to her. Was it just sex or sex with Martin that she missed?

  The restaurant provided the diner with a nostalgic romp of The Graduate and its time period, the late sixties. There were pictures of Dustin Hoffman, who played Benjamin Braddock in the movie, along with Anne Bancroft who portrayed Mrs. Robinson, the older woman who seduces him and Katharine Ross who played Elaine, her daughter, who Benjamin falls in love with. The soothing music of Simon and Garfunkel filled the air. Though Carla hadn’t been born during the time they were popular, she recognized their Sounds of Silence as the maître d’ led them to a small table by an alcove.

  “Where did you find this place?” Martin asked after they were seated and handed their tall, thin laminated menus.

  “Why? Don’t you like it? An online writer friend suggested it. I know it’s before our time, but hey, it’s gotta be a classic.”

  “You’re a classic.”

  That one line filled Carla’s heart with joy and a nice chunk of relief. If he came out with something like that, would he be in the process of divorcing her? As Lynne had quipped, “It ain’t over until the divorce papers are signed and filed.”

  “Why do you look so surprised? Haven’t you noticed how great you look lately?” he said as he covered her hand with his.

  “I thought you hadn’t noticed,” she replied, still basking in the warmth of his words.

  “It’s work. It gets in the way.”

  I’ll bet. “We’d better decide what we want,” she said eyeing the approaching waiter.

  She chose a chef’s salad and Martin had a porterhouse steak accompanied by a loaded baked potato with lots of extra sour cream. Because it was his birthday, she allowed herself a glass of wine and they toasted one another. All through the meal, as she tried not to focus on how good he looked, he complimented her. They were nearly done when she thought she saw someone familiar enter the restaurant.

  Carla opened her purse quickly and pulled out her glasses. This didn’t go unnoticed by Martin and he turned in the direction she was looking.

  “It’s Lynne,” she said. “She’s on a date with her boyfriend, Haywood.” Carla waved at the couple. She’d only met Haywood once before at Lynne’s office, but she liked him and the way he put a light in Lynne’s eyes.

  Martin looked in Lynne’s direction and suddenly began to choke. Carla became frantic. She was no good at RSVP, CPR, or any of those letter thingies. However, their waiter was and he rushed over. He hugged Martin around from behind and pressed hard a couple of times and a piece of meat became dislodged from Martin’s throat and sailed onto the table. Carla was so happy that Martin was all right, that she didn’t realize how gross the chewed morsel looked until she noticed it had landed on her plate. She covered it with her napkin and swallowed hard, trying not to gag.

  As Carla thanked the man for his heroics, as well as for removing the offending plate, all eyes seemed to be on them, including Lynne and Haywood. A heartbeat later, Lynne and the blond-headed man were standing before them. The color had drained from Martin’s face. After what just happened, Carla wasn’t surprised.

  “Are you okay, Martin?” Lynne asked.

  He nodded, seemingly unable to speak. Lynne’s date was eyeing him curiously.

  “Oh, Martin, this is Haywood Wish,” Lynne said. “Haywood, meet Carla’s husband, Martin.”

  Martin, whose arms were wrapped around his sore ribs, nodded. Haywood nodded back, his eyes never leaving Martin’s face.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d be here?” Carla asked Lynne.

  “I didn’t know until I arrived. Haywood surprised me.”

  “Stay and have dessert with us,” Carla suggested.

  “No, I don’t want dessert,” Martin said.

  “Are you okay?” Carla asked her husband.

  “I’m…in a little pain and would like to go home.” Turning to Lynne and Haywood, he said, “Have a good time.”

  Carla signaled the waiter and asked for the check. He brought it promptly and she left enough money to include a nice tip for him. After all, he did save Martin’s life. She felt sorry for Martin that his birthday had been spoiled. However, when he leaned on her all the way to the car, she felt sorry for herself, as well. Something told her there’d be no athletics in the bedroom tonight, after all.

  After she helped Martin into the car, she started the engine. She put the car into gear, but didn’t take her foot off the brake. Martin’s reaction to Haywood and his to Martin seemed odd. She turned to Martin. “Did you know Haywood from somewhere?” She asked.

  “No. Why do you ask?”

  “Just wondering, that’s—”

  “Don’t wonder. I never saw him before in my life.”

  “Okay. Sorry, I upset you.”

  Martin didn’t reply. He merely closed his eyes and they rode back home in silence. By the time they reached the house, his chest didn’t hurt as much, but the earlier desire to make love to Carla had been squeezed out of him.

  “Do you need help undressing, Martin?”

  “No. Sorry I ruined the evening. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

  “Hey, you could have choked to death. No apology needed,” she answered hoping she’d kept the disappointment she was feeling out of her voice. Suddenly, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of hopelessness. She snuck into the bathroom as she felt the tears gathering.

  By the time Carla came out of the bathroom in her nightgown, Martin was asleep. She slipped under the blanket and turned away from him. The last thing she wanted was for him to know was that she was crying.

  * * *

  Martin was feigning sleep. Earlier, he’d wanted to make love to Carla, but right now he didn’t feel up to it. She had looked great that evening and he hadn’t missed the looks given her by some of the other men in the restaurant, but he felt like an actor returning to Broadway after a hiatus and feared flubbing his lines. When they made love again after all the months of abstinence, he wanted to be in peak form.

  Martin heard a soft sniffle and saw her shoulders tremble. He surmised that Carla was crying. Had to be not having sex. Perhaps Heather was right. Women needed to be laid, too. This had never occurred to him. When he hadn’t initiated any love play because her weight gain had repulsed him, she never acted like she cared or even missed it. The truth was that he’d never stopped loving Carla, but he had needs. The other women had been only notches on his belt, nothing more and one night-stands—until Heather entered his life.

  Heather was different from the others. She was impulsive and exciting. Perhaps after the mundane existence he had with Carla, his libido needed the thrill he got from Heather. Knowing she was his boss’s wife only added to the joy ride. The fact that he was laying his financial well-being on the line every time they met added danger to the excitement. The affair had nothing to do with his marriage. Besides, he and Heather were both married and neither intended on leaving their spouses. Carla, unlike his mother who had been cheated on by his father, had nothing to fear. It was all covered by the sacred double standard that it was expected of men to cheat. It was in their Y chromosome, or something.

  He suddenly had the desire to take her in his arms and console her, but like gas, a moment later, the urge had dissipated. He’d make it up to her tomorrow night. That was the last thought he had before drifting off to sleep.

  * * *

 
; Carla eventually fell asleep. She dreamed she was getting married. Everything was exactly as it had happened. Lynne and her mother were helping her put on her gown. Everyone was in the chapel waiting for the Wedding March to announce her arrival. Her father was in his tux outside the small dressing room waiting to walk her down the aisle. Though she was nervous, this was going to be the happiest day of her life. Finally, she was ready and her father took her arm and led her to the large wooden doors that opened into the chapel where the minister was waiting to marry her. She took a final deep breath and nodded to her father.

  The doors opened and she slowly walked down the aisle to where her husband-to-be waited. She looked straight ahead, without her glasses, things were a little out of focus. She wished she’d gotten contacts. Finally, she reached Martin’s side.

  But the man that took her hand in his wasn’t Martin, but Richard!

  Carla’s heart lurched and a deep ache pooled low in her abdomen. It was as if she already knew how he would feel sliding into her. She knew this wasn’t right, but nobody seemed to care. If it didn’t matter to anyone else, she figured it would be okay. Besides, Richard looked so handsome in his tux and he was smiling that slow smile at her and his eyes grew dark with desire.

  The minister began the ceremony. Just as he reached the part where he’d ask if anyone thought they shouldn’t be married… Martin turned over and poked Carla in the ribs, waking her. She remembered what she’d been dreaming about. She could still feel echoes of that ache between her legs. She savored it for a moment, then she turned over and went back to sleep.

  * * *

  The following morning when Carla opened her eyes, she found herself staring directly into Martin’s beautiful blue ones. Her mind began to sift through the lingering veil of sleep to remember what day it was Sunday. Then she recalled the events of the night before.