From Fiore’s point of view, Carol had pretty much brought the curtain down on their affair the way she spoke to him that morning on the telephone. Her words and tone of voice left him certain she’d reject him if he asked to see her again, so he never did. He spoke to her a few times, but only when necessary in connection with work she was doing for his clients. The conversations were cold and as brief as possible.
Carol waited a month for Doug to come to her office and explain the circumstances that had him plunging into politics out of the blue. After that, she decided it was too late to call him and suggest they talk about it. One month became two, and then quickly stretched to three since she verbally confronted him about the rumor.
They greeted each other cordially. In response to her question, he told her he thought his campaign was going well and that he had a shot at defeating Cardella. “How’s Bruce doing?” he asked.
Fiore knew that June Bates trailed Singer badly in the polls. Despite a series of mailings to registered democrats throughout the State, she was unable to raise the kind of money that allowed her bid for a primary victory to get the publicity she needed.
Thus far, her biggest ally was Jenna Richardson. Several columns by Richardson in the Herald detailed the meaningful legislation that Bates was instrumental in getting passed during her tenure in the House. They favorably portrayed the representative from Warwick as being a no-nonsense type of person who understood the plight of minorities and women and worked to end discrimination against them. “She has not only fought against economic disadvantage for those whose cause has few other champions,” one of her columns asserted, “but Bates has also stressed the need for members of the community to understand the serious harm inflicted by acts that bring pain and anguish to those they are directed against.”
“He’s doing well, unfortunately,” Carol answered, flashing a quick smile. “Hopefully what June Bates is putting him through will make him a better person. He suddenly realizes the things he neglected—didn’t even try to do—when he was lieutenant governor. Bruce has a lot of respect for her now, but he still wants every vote he can get.”
Carol looked very nice, Doug thought, and didn’t seem anxious to leave. He invited her to sit down with him in the lobby for a few minutes.
“I don’t think that would look too good,” she answered. “Bruce Singer’s wife and Doug Fiore. We could make tomorrow’s Herald in the same column.”
He realized she was right, of course. He was about to say that he’d speak to her in the office the next day concerning a more appropriate time and place. At least he’d be able to get her reaction to meeting with him. Then he remembered the key to Room 606 in his briefcase.
Fiore had spent about half a dozen evenings there with Pat Hanley since she gave him the key. He also stayed over one Saturday night with Grace after she complained again about becoming a widow to his new career. He knew he’d need his wife’s presence more often at different functions as the primary campaign wound down. So they had done it all—dinner, a comedy club and overnight in Providence. Grace became much more understanding of his late hours after that occasion.
Fiore recalled the lecture he gave himself about the danger of meeting with Carol during the campaign. The potential consequences of being seen with her in the wrong place at the wrong time were significant. Berman’s warning to him about the public’s reaction to what was or even appeared unseemly by a candidate was still fresh in his mind. He knew that if he enticed Carol to be with him that night, they would end up in bed. His desire to be with her again was strong and growing stronger as he detected a sadness about her. He was at a crossroads, trying to decide what to do next. “Are you in a hurry, Carol … I mean, are you on your way somewhere?”
She tried to smile at him, but couldn’t. He saw the tears come suddenly into her eyes. “I just had dinner in Stanford’s,” she said. “Today’s my birthday, and I ate alone because Bruce is out somewhere making a speech. He didn’t say anything to me this morning or call during the day. I’m sure he’s forgotten. I’m on the way home to spend another night by myself.”
Fiore wanted to take Carol’s hand or put an arm on her shoulder to comfort her, but knew he couldn’t do that where they were standing. His caution gave way to desire. He leaned closer to her and spoke softly. “Carol, listen, do me a favor. I’ve got a room in the hotel that I’m using during the campaign. Room 606. Let’s talk for a little while. I don’t want to see you go home feeling like this.”
She took out a tissue and dabbed at her eyes without answering him.
Fiore took advantage of the silence. “I’m going to go out the front door, around to the garage and then use the walk ramp on the second floor to get back into the hotel. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be there. You can wait in the lobby or go freshen up, okay?”
Carol nodded affirmatively, without speaking, her eyes still moist.
He extended his arm and they shook hands politely, as if parting company. It was for the benefit of anyone who was watching. “See you soon,” he whispered. “606.”
After he left she went to the Ladies room and repaired her makeup. Ten minutes later Carol knocked gently at the door to Room 606. Fiore embraced her as soon as he closed the door, and she held him tightly around the waist. He kissed her ear several times and spoke very softly, telling her how much he had missed her.
“I would have called about meeting somewhere, but I didn’t think you wanted to be with me,” he said. He moved his lips around the top of her head.
“For a while I didn’t know what I wanted,” she answered. Her head remained flat against his chest. “I was so confused and frustrated by what was happening. Everything seemed turned upside down. It’s like you became another Bruce overnight, and I felt there’d be no room for me in your life either.”
“Don’t blame yourself for what happened. You had every right to think that way. You’ve been through it a few times.” He moved his hands to her face and gently pushed her head away from his chest. He kissed her eyelashes and then her nose. “But I’m not like Bruce. I’d always find time to be with you.”
Carol pressed her face against his chest again. He heard her sniffle several times. “I’m so sorry, Doug.”
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he said. He brushed his lips along the side of her neck, blowing a little air in the same motion. Her whole body trembled for a brief second. He reached for the zipper at the back of her blouse and pulled it down slowly, unsure of how she would react. The movement sent a wave of anticipation through Carol’s body and she bit lightly on her lower lip. She felt him pull the ends of the blouse out of her skirt and released her arms from his waist so that he could slip it off. He folded it once and went to place it on the back of the tall chair closest to them.
Carol moved her hands toward the buttons of her skirt but then pulled them away. She could feel the desire coming alive in her groin. At the same time, she felt a shaking feeling in her knees and hoped Doug would hurry.
He came back to her. He put his hands on her bare shoulders and kissed her lips. Carol kissed back hard and kept his lips on hers longer than she thought he intended them to stay. She expected to feel his fingers at the snaps of her bra. Instead, he bent over and began kissing whatever flesh his lips could reach on her breasts. Pushing a finger underneath the cups on each side, he ran them around her nipples. Carol took deep breaths, and let them out noisily, feeling the sensation inside her race from her breasts to her hips.
She watched as Fiore got down on one knee. “Your shoes, madam,” he said, smiling up at her. She noticed the tiny bald spot in the middle of his head as he removed one, then the other, and flipped them in the direction of the same chair. When he stood up, he reached for the buttons of her skirt and easily pushed each of them through the opening.
The skirt fell to the floor and again he stopped undressing her long enough to pick it up and lay it on the chair. Carol suddenly felt self-conscious, standing in the middle of the well lit room in
her underwear. But the feeling quickly passed when he was close to her again. She began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers working clumsily in their haste. She took hold of the wide end of his tie and pulled it around his collar until it was off. At the same time, he undid the clasps of her bra and sent it flying through the air toward the chair.
Carol shuddered as Doug kissed each nipple and then pulled as much of each breast into his mouth as he could. She had to dig her fingers into his shoulders as he let his teeth come together easily at each nipple before running his tongue over it. Her heavy breathing gave way to soft but uncontrollable moans as he kept his tongue busy, moving it down her stomach, around her navel and toward the top of her panties.
Carol reached down and released the garters holding her stockings. His fingers tickled her when they touched her thighs as he took the top of her stockings and pulled each one down carefully until it was off. His lips returned to her navel, kissing all around it as his hands massaged her buttocks, on top of her panties. She smiled as she noticed the position of her hands, pushed out to either side, palms down, fingers spread wide apart, as if she were trying to keep something on the floor from rising any higher.
“Hurry, Doug,” she whispered, already anxious to have his body become part of hers again after so long. But he kept covering her with kisses below the waist, tiny little ones that filled her with flashes of energy and desire. She knew she was soaked inside already.
“Let’s do this right,” he said. When he picked her up and walked to the bedroom, she felt the strength of his grip. He dropped her easily on the bedspread. She hurried to pull it down, along with the blanket, as he got undressed.
“You get on top,” Carol said when they were both ready, and he slipped inside her as soon as he was in position. She was filled with pleasure instantly and moved her head back and forth on the pillow as sounds of gratification escaped her lips. She cried out each time he pushed into her and breathed in deeply as he pulled back. They kept a regular rhythm for a while until Doug changed it by leaving just the tip of his penis at the opening of her canal for a few seconds each time before completing the stroke. Carol loved the timing of it, but soon found herself pushing toward him, wanting all of him back in her as soon as possible.
“I hope Noah got the animals out before the flood,” he teased.
She knew how wet she was but could still feel every bit of him each time he was extended inside. “It hasn’t rained like this in a long time,” she answered. “Pretty much of a drought since late spring.”
Fiore was moving again with the timing she liked. One of his hands was under her buttocks and he squeezed them each time he pushed all the way in. It let her feel him even better than before.
“I think the cobwebs are all gone,” she said.
He smiled. “The cobweb busters have come through again.”
Suddenly Carol felt the beginning of the tide that couldn’t be stopped. She threw her arms around his backside and pulled him closer to her. Her pelvis thrust up and down in time with his forward and backward movements. Her passion reached a state of pure bliss as he rubbed hard against her with each stroke, in rhythm with her pelvic swing. The long moan came from deep within her throat and continued until she felt the huge wave pound ashore, break over her and then finally begin to recede. Only then did she become aware of the sound from Doug. It was a softer echo of her own, as he lay on her, his face pressed into the end of the pillow.
Carol waited for his heavy breathing to subside. She teased him. “Frankly, I think I’d prefer this to running for governor.”
“Both are good,” he answered. “Take my word for it.” Eventually, he pushed himself up, climbed over Carol’s leg and lay down on his side of the bed. They were silent for several minutes. “I had an uncle who used to say something like, ‘A woman is only a woman but a good cigar is a smoke,’” Fiore said. “He must have been out of his mind.”
Carol pulled the sheet up to her shoulders and turned away from him. She started to cry but didn’t want Doug to know it.
* * *
Now, as Bruce’s snoring continued, Carol lay there, thinking how confusing the whole situation had become. She was certain that if her husband won the election, she would lose him to politics, to something she despised. And perhaps their marriage was over anyway, even if he lost, because he made it clear by his choice that she came second in his life.
Fiore was the only other man who ever took her to bed. At the time, she wasn’t looking for an affair, for a lover. But Bruce had let his work take over his existence and continually ignored her needs. Carol knew she did everything she could to make herself attractive to him, to try and “recapture the rapture” as some terrible old song put it. It just didn’t work.
So she was vulnerable that night when Fiore took her to dinner with one of his clients for whom she was writing a brief. The evening went well, with much laughter and wine. When the client left, Doug suggested they go back to the office for a few minutes. It never occurred to her that he had something in mind other than the assignment of more work for one of the many companies that competed for his services.
They saw no one as they entered the main reception area from the elevator and walked down the corridor to his office. Fiore locked the door behind him and unbuttoned the jacket of Carol’s suit before she even thought of protesting. He kissed her once on the lips and fondled her breasts. It was enough to stimulate the desire building in her for a long time as a result of Bruce’s neglect. She offered no resistance. They undressed quickly and had intercourse on the floor without any foreplay or additional kissing. He ejaculated quickly, in the early stage of her pleasure and before she barely made a sound.
Carol was angry with herself at first. She was convinced that Fiore thought of it as a “one night stand.” It surprised her when he came to her office several days later and spoke of meeting with her again. “I think you owe me at least a second chance,” he told her. “I’d hate to have my lovemaking judged by what you’d probably say about me now.”
She returned his smile and accepted the proposition. When they saw each other again, he showed her how great a lover he could be.
The affair was good for her, she knew. It was easier to fall asleep in the king-size bed at home without wondering why Bruce didn’t reach over and pull her next to him. The tension she felt in her body for so long began to abate. Carol turned her interest to other things at night. She no longer resented preparing a light dinner for her husband when he got home late, as he so often did.
On the evenings she met with Fiore, Carol was confident that Bruce would still be out campaigning when she returned home. If, by chance, he was there before her, he readily accepted whatever explanation she offered for being late. In the morning, she left for work after he did. On her scheduled nights out with her lover, she put instructions for dinner on the refrigerator, explaining that she might be home late.
Then Fiore ruined everything for her by getting into politics himself. When she first learned of it, Carol realized that at best she was going to see a lot less of him in the months ahead. She knew all the demands the campaign would make on his time. At worst, she was going to lose him altogether if he became governor. There was no way the two of them would ever be able to be alone at night, even at some small out-of-the-way motel, without the wrong people finding out about it. The risk would be too great for him to take, especially if he wanted to be in position to run for the United States Senate someday. The romance would be finished, she understood, and she probably would lose both of the men she had loved.
Carol knew all along that her outburst to Doug on the telephone regarding his political future was stupid. But she was unable to find a way of apologizing for what she said without again forcing him to hear her true feelings about what he was doing.
They weren’t intimate again for three months, not until that night. Doug fell asleep quickly after they had sex and didn’t respond when Carol whispered his name a half hour later. She sho
wered, dressed, and called him again softly, but he was still dead to the world. She left a note under his watch on the night table and set the alarm clock to go off thirty minutes after she left the room.
Bruce was home and already sleeping when she got there. There was no indication that he made any dinner for himself. The message on the refrigerator read, “Exhausted. See you tomorrow.” Nothing about her birthday. Carol went through the mail and took the latest Newsweek magazine into the living room with her. An hour later, before going upstairs, she stopped in the kitchen for half a Toll House cookie. She thought of putting a lit candle in it and making a wish, but let it go.
Lying in bed, Carol called to mind what happened earlier that evening and realized she still tingled inside.
Yes, it was definitely fate, she said to herself, closing her eyes.
54
RICHIE CARDELLA WAS SITTING with Terry Reardon in the latter’s fourth floor office. There were five days to go before August 1st and the Herald’s initial negotiating session with Tommy Arena whose local union represented its delivery drivers. It was shortly after ten o’clock in the morning. Their work began two hours earlier with a review of the new contract proposals Arena sent to Reardon in the mail. The current agreement didn’t expire until the last day of September, but Reardon decided early on to take advantage of the full sixty days in which the contract was open for modification. He was concerned about the possible difficulty of having Cardella available for meetings with the union when his campaigning heated up and took him on the road for days at a time. Reardon fully expected his lawyer to win the September primary, and was fearful that Richie would have little time for labor contracts after that.
Cardella said he intended to bring Mike Donlan, one of his younger partners, to all of the early meetings. He expressed confidence that Donlan, sitting with Terry, could handle the negotiations anytime he couldn’t be there himself. “Don’t worry about Mike,” he said. “He’s very bright, and has already been through a few contracts on his own.”
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