Midsummer's Eve

by Kitty Margo

  Obviously, Adam hadn’t found the overlapping folds of flesh repulsive. Judging from the number of photos he had taken, I could only assume he wanted to remember his trip with her through infinity. The slimy bastard! The most I had ever gotten out of him was dinner, a movie and the occasional fishing trip. I was searching for signs in the photos to give me a clue as to which hotel they stayed at. Please, don’t let me discover that Adam had rented a room at the luxurious Grove Park Inn. As many times as I had suggested we go there. Whew! He didn’t. It was more like one of those motels where they leave the light on for you.

  After lunch, Eric came swaggering up the sidewalk grinning radiantly from ear to ear.

  “Spill.” I said, scooting over and motioned for him to join Mallory and me at the picnic table. I was so nervous I had chewed three fingernails to the quick.

  “Well, she seemed a little uncertain and suspicious at first,” he drawled in his charming Southern boy way. “She wanted to know how I had gotten her number. It took about 5 minutes to convince her that one of her friends at work had given it to me. When I told her it was because she was so stunning and I had to meet her, she was putty in my hands. The girl loves to hear she is stunning.”

  “Wait until you see how stunning her stomach is.” I smirked as Mallory sent a vicious kick my way under the table. I swear the girl seemed hell bent upon putting me in a leg cast!

  “Huh? What’s wrong with her stomach,” he questioned with a disconcerted frown. Mallory and I had both assured him that Chia was exquisite and he wasn’t at all pleased with the suggestion that the object of his intended seduction might possess an unsightly flaw. After all, he had a reputation to maintain.

  “You’ll see, and it’s not that bad really.” I fibbed, rubbing my aching shin and glaring at Mallory. “Finish telling us about the call.”

  “Okay, for starters, she has a real problem with English. You know that, right? I had to keep asking her to repeat what she was saying.”

  He was lost in thought for a minute, trying to remember the pertinent details of their conversation I guessed.

  “Oh, I asked if she was seeing anyone and she said, ‘not really’.”

  “Did you ask to meet her?” Mallory simpered, leaning over the table to provide him a better glimpse of her less than generous cleavage. The girl’s ample behind was her best calling card to the opposite sex. Even Sir Mix Alot would agree that Mallory had a supercharged motor in the back of her Honda.

  “Nope, I’m gonna talk to her a couple of days on the phone, let her get to know me before I rush in.” He was taking full advantage of the view so blatantly offered and even went so far as to lick his lips.

  Practically drooling now, Mallory purred, “Smart move.”

  “I just kept telling her how beautiful she was, since she soaks that up like a sponge. I’m supposed to call her tomorrow at noon. I asked about calling her tonight when she got off work and she said, ‘No. Sorry. I busy tonight’.”

  Shocking! At least one female was capable of telling him no, but for how long? “Adam will be with her tonight.” My heart sank with the knowledge. Fortunately, I didn’t have time to wallow in my misery, since after having fed 150 tire builders the cafeteria was screaming for some TLC from my crew. “Oh well, it’s time to earn our paychecks.”

  “I thought I had already earned mine,” Eric teased, “and you would give me the rest of the afternoon off.”

  “You don’t know her very well do you?” Mallory was fanning herself as we headed back inside. “Eve would pop a vessel if you tried to leave before the cafeteria was spotless.”

  Feeling much better, and confident that lover boy Eric would have Chia eating out of his skilled fingers in no time, I informed Mallory that I was leaving to go home and take a nap. Actually, I was going home to pray for forgiveness for my sinful ways.

  The next day, after a two-hour lunch, Eric sauntered up the sidewalk with even more impressive news. “I didn’t even have to ask to meet her. She asked me! Seems one of her friends at work has seen me and… I guess… told her I was… kinda cute.”

  No the boy was not trying to be modest, when we both knew any modesty he possessed would fit into his smallest toe bone!

  “We have a lunch date Friday at Applebees.”

  That was certainly a news flash! Chia was willing to go to a public restaurant with Eric? She didn’t seem overly concerned about her afternoon tryst reaching Adam’s jealous ears, now did she? Then I asked what was first and foremost on my mind. “Can you hook her, Eric?”

  “She’s already hooked.” His lips curved into a conceited grin as he brushed invisible lint from his shoulder. “I can’t believe you ever doubted me. Oh, by the way, you’re paying for the motel room.”

  “No problem. Just let me know how much.” It would be the best money I had ever spent. Hell, I would give him my credit card, the gold American Express without a spending limit, if it would rush the proceedings. This was moving faster than I had ever hoped.

  “Will do.”

  “That is one self‑assured man.” We both watched as Eric strutted toward the plant, pausing long enough to wink at one of the female employees puffing away in the smoking section of the patio.

  “He has every reason to be, trust someone who knows.” Mallory’s eyes never once wavered from the seat of his Levi’s as he walked away.

  “I have to go,” I announced, trying to draw her attention from Eric’s backside. “I need to drop by the Employment Security Commission and ask them to send over applicants to interview for my new contract at the county offices.”

  “Hire some good looking black men.”

  “I will hire the most qualified person for the job.”

  “I wish you would let me do the interviews.”

  “I just bet you do. The employees you hired wouldn’t begin to know what to do with a mop or a can of Ajax, but they would certainly be well qualified in other areas, wouldn’t they?”

  “You know it, girl! And if they weren’t qualified, I could teach them the basics in one afternoon in the broom closet.”

  “I know you could, Mallory. I know you could.”

  On Friday, Eric returned from a four-hour lunch with a wide satisfied grin splitting his handsome face. “Well, I gotta say. I know why Adam is so crazy over her now!”

  Oh, good Lord! Why did he feel the need to say all that? Did I really want to hear what he was fixing to bust a gut to tell me?

  “I can’t speak for other Asian women, but that Chia is one hot little tamale.”

  Okay, I was almost positive that “a hot tamale” made reference to a female of Mexican heritage, but I chose to keep that contemplation to myself. Just because Eric’s looks are well above average doesn’t necessarily mean that his IQ followed suit. Nor his pay scale, because I was quite certain that his complimentary commentary concerning said Tamale was on the verge of eradicating any future pay raises. Still I had to know. “How is she different from an American woman?”

  “Well, for starters, she brings a whole new meaning to the term bucking and thrashing.”

  “Really?” How much bucking and thrashing could one woman do? Not that I was prone to either buck or thrash, but it sounded extremely tiresome.

  “Yeah, you can’t keep her still. That girl is all over the place! From top, to bottom, to sideways! I mean she really…really gets into it!”

  “What else?” A feeling similar to that of impending doom was seeping through my entire body. Eric’s face was flushed and he was absently scratching his groin area just thinking about her.

  “And she is very vocal!” A leering smile played across his lips, evidently remembering Chia's choice of obscenities. He moved behind the picnic table and sat down, obviously in an attempt to hide the erection that no one at the tables, especially Mallory, had missed.

  “Like talking dirty?” Okay. That wasn’t something I was prone to do either. I mean, how embarrassing! I had to be beside myself with anger to even utter the F word.
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  “That and moaning and groaning and screaming. She really enjoys sex!”

  “And?” So she was a screamer. I wasn’t. Big whoop dee do! I couldn’t remember one time when I had even come close to feeling the urge to raise my voice during a sexual act.

  “And anything goes. In fact, the kinkier the better.”

  “Such as?" What was I missing here? Very rarely had the word “kinky” entered my boudoir vocabulary. She bucks, she thrashes, she talks dirty, and screams. What else?

  He hesitated and a bright blush lit his face and neck. “Like I said anything goes with her. Anything. Anywhere.”

  “Anywhere? Like on top of the washing machine or in the back of the car at the drive-in or, heaven forbid, in a public restroom?”

  “Um…no.”

  “Well, where? Oh.

  Oh!

  You…don’t… mean…”

  Oh!

  Ouch!

  Say it isn’t so!

  “Yep.” He must have been having a particularly naughty memory the way drool was forming in the corners of his mouth. “I swear, you will have to get me some vitamins, and perhaps a prescription for Cialis to keep up with her.”

  Always the glutton for punishment I had to ask, “Okay. Be honest. On a scale of 1 to 10 how would you rate her in bed?”

  “Are you sure you want the truth, Eve?”

  Nope, I didn’t. But tell me anyway. “Yes.”

  “15.”

  Honestly, such a dreamy look settled over his gorgeous face that I was tempted to fire him on the spot. However, I was sure that was a slightly exaggerated figure. It had to be! Eric had worked for me for almost a year and I had never known him to give a female a score higher than 12.

  Oh man, if looks could kill Eric would be a dead man at the hands of Mallory, whom he had ranked at a measly 12. I never should have told her, but at the time it was the ultimate compliment to her. “Then you shouldn’t have a problem going back for seconds, should you?” I snapped, close to tears.

  “Hey, don’t get mad at me.” He grinned and came around the table to hug me. “You asked for the truth, didn’t you?”

  “I know. Of course, you’re right.” I couldn’t be angry with him for being honest. Although he certainly could have lied just a little given the enormity of the subject matter! “I’m sorry, Eric.” Nevertheless, the number 15 was still slicing through my heart like a Ginsu knife.

  “It’s okay,” he said with what he surmised were comforting words. “I’ve known people who’ve been dumped and they say it hurts like hell.”

  Dumped! Such a vicious little word!

  “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you something else. Her cell phone was ringing like crazy the entire time. I guess it was Adam. She finally turned it off.”

  “So, other than the spectacular sex, is she falling for you?” I had heard enough about Chia’s porn star theatrics for one day. “Enough so that she will end it with Adam?”

  “I’m meeting her tomorrow night at 8:00.” With that said he proceeded to grin one of those cocky grins that only good-looking men can carry off. “Does that answer your questions?”

  Yep, sure did. That one sentence spoke volumes. Chia was giving up a fun filled Saturday night of erotica with Adam to spend time with her new boy toy Eric. What woman of mediocre intelligence wouldn’t? Alas, that could only mean that Adam had been knocked from his vantage point of the highest perch on the totem pole and would be alone on Saturday night.

  Poor baby! But he should have known. Once a ho, always a ho.

  “Do you think you can get invited to her house, so Adam will see your car there? I don’t want her sneaking around behind his back in her accustomed manner. I want it thrown in his smirking face and him smacked right between the eyes with it!”

  “I take that to mean you want me to spend the night at her house tomorrow night.” Eric thought about this for a minute, a bit hesitantly it seemed. “He won’t do one of those crime of passion things and come after me with a machete will he?”

  “Heavens no!” Just the thought was humorous. Anyone who knew Adam would know that Eric had nothing to fear. “Adam will park down the street and wait. When he realizes you’re spending the night with the precious one he will leave, beside himself with grief, and call tomorrow assuring her of his undying love and begging for another chance. You have to convince her, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, that you are the undisputed man of her dreams. Can you do it?”

  “In my sleep.”

  “I don’t believe you’ll be doing much of that.” To be so young and arrogant! “Call me and let me know if you get invited to her sleepover.”

  “If?” He seemed to find the word quite humorous and slightly insulting. “I will pretend I’m calling my mom to tell her I won’t be home. Chia doesn’t know I don’t live at home and probably wouldn’t understand me if I tried to tell her. She only wants my body.”

  Duh!

  “When I call it will be my signal that I’m staying over.”

  “Perfect.” If he spent the night at her house our plan would be a resounding success.

  Oh boy! Was I ever a nervous wreck the following day? To keep my mind from rambling and imagining plan gone wrong scenarios, I took my mom for her first ever pedicure. She complained incessantly, like I was taking her to have her toenails removed instead of polished, during the entire drive to Perfect Nails.

  “Ain’t nobody got no business touching my feet.”

  “Okay, Mom.”

  “You know them folks don’t wanna be handling somebody’s feet they don’t even know.”

  “They don’t mind, Mom.”

  “I could go to the Dollar Store and probably get three bottles of polish for a dollar and paint my own toenails.”

  “I’m sure you could, Mom.”

  “Why would I pay good money to have a stranger rub my feet?”

  “You’re not, Mom. It’s my treat.”

  “I ain’t never heard nothing as crazy as a woman rubbing another woman’s feet.”

  “If you say so, Mom.”

  “Why would a woman my age care if her toes looked good or not, when her legs look like somebody done took a blue magic marker and scribbled on them?”

  “Women should try to look their best at any age.”

  When we arrived, I led her to the polish section and instructed her to choose a color. Instead of the reds, which I assumed she would choose, her hands fluttered over the neon section. Go ahead, girl! She chose a bright fluorescent orange, and then sank back in her chair sullied up like a bull. Although I could tell she was secretly excited.

  Excited was putting it mildly. She nearly swooned with pleasure as the petite Asian lady vigorously massaged her feet and then scraped a neat pile of dead, calloused skin from her heels. She chatted with the lady in the next chair with a vibrating voice and relaxed contentedly in her massaging chair, which had been adjusted to the highest speed.

  I had recently gotten a pedicure, so while receiving my manicure I glanced back at her and could tell she was positively loving every minute of her pampering, but she would probably never admit it to a living soul.

  Finished, she ever so carefully padded over to where I was sitting. She was a colorful sight with her bright blue, cushiony toe separators still in place between fluorescent orange toenails that I was sure would glow in the dark. Grinning broadly, she complimented the artistry of the lady who had painted dainty white flowers in the center of each of her big toenails and said, “Do you think I need a manicure too?” all the while eyeing my French manicured nails.

  “Yes, I believe you do.” Well now, a manicure and a pedicure? Mom was stepping out of the country for real. “Go up to the front desk and add your name to the manicure list.”

  She wrote her name, while I steadfastly prayed that she wouldn’t choose the same fluorescent orange for her fingernails. Whew! She didn’t. She extended her hands for inspection to the lady at the desk and then received her own French manicure.
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  “How often do we need to get this done?” She asked, admired her fingers and toes during the ride home.

  Don’t you know, sometimes I could just pinch her?

  Later that night, I was a bundle of raw nerves waiting for the phone to ring and almost jumped clear out of my skin when it finally did at 12:02.

  “Hi, Mom. I won’t be coming home tonight,” Eric mumbled around what sounded like someone trying to swallow his tongue.

  “My God! Is she on you?”

  “Yeth.”

  Either he had been taking speech lessons from Tammy or he was having some difficulty trying to force the words around what sounded like an object that was lodged in his mouth. Oh! What if it wasn’t her tongue?

  “You likey?” She purred a very short distance from the phone, followed by some enthusiastic smacking and slurping.

  The horny twit! She changed men like I changed underwear. “Have a nice time, Eric.”

  Just before he hung up I heard her say, “Oh… Ewick!”

  At 12:10 the phone rang again.

  There it was!

  As if in a dream Adam’s name flashed in slow motion across the caller ID and almost succeeded in stopping my pounding heart.

  Seven

  “Oh, my sweet Jesus! Could it be? Was it really him?

  “Hey, Eve.”

  Yes! Adam’s voice sent a flood of wild emotions, ranging from elation to seething rage, racing through me with his sweet, sexy Yankee accent. It was a voice that I had lain awake night after night on a tear soaked pillow waiting to hear and had consumed multiple bottles of anti-depressant because I wasn’t hearing it. Was it really the man who had gleefully purchased me a one-way ticket to hell? The man who had caused me to question my very existence on this earth?