ARE YOU LONESOME TONIGHT? (Running Wild) (17 page)

Hers were, however; she was starving. It was after nine. She’d come slowly awake, already aroused, aware that in the sensual dream she’d been having, he was making love to her. She’d opened her eyes to find out that it was really happening. That slow, early morning sex had been explosive. When it was over, he’d looked down into her eyes and whispered, “I’m falling in love with you, Maxine."

The words repeated and repeated in her heart. They were a precious gift that she held clasped close to her soul.

She hadn’t said she loved him, too; it seemed to her that it would sound as if she were just being polite. She wanted to wait for exactly the right moment. She’d know it when it arrived.

It wasn’t now; now, she needed food.

“Let’s start with fruit salad, okay?" She spooned it into two bowls and placed one in front of him. He, too, was wearing one of the lush white robes. His dark hair was still wet from the shower, and his long legs poked out from under the hem, deliciously hairy and masculine. He was cute. He was irresistible. He was falling in love with her. Life was perfect, and after they ate, she planned to lure him back into the bedroom.

She’d eaten her way through several lavish servings of everything before she realized he wasn’t keeping up.

"Aren’t you hungry?” She spread a toast triangle with blackberry jam and popped it into her mouth.

"I’m enjoying the scenery,” he said, his eyes caressing her. "The sun sets your hair on fire.”

The table was set in front of the open French doors. They were being bathed in morning sunlight, deliciously tempered by a cool breeze off the ocean.

“Thank you.” She could feel her cheeks grow warm at the compliment, and she smiled across at him. “Harry, I’m so grateful to you for planning this. I can’t remember the last time I felt so happy, or so pampered.”

"You deserve everything, and more." There was a note of tension in his voice, and she glanced over at him. He was frowning, and the food on his plate was still untouched.

“Harry, what’s wrong?” She put her coffee cup down and leaned across to touch his arm.

“I have something to explain to you, Maxine.”

“Okay.” She nodded and smiled at him, but her stomach gave a little lurch at the solemn tone of his voice. “So go ahead and explain.”

“I’m a writer.”

"Yes, I know that.” She frowned at him, confused.

“I freelance, I work for magazines and newspapers. Sometimes I propose articles, sometimes editors request them."

"You told me that before.” She was staring at him, puzzled. “What's this about, Harry?” The tension in his voice was affecting her, making her nervous.

“That first time I called you? It was because an editor had asked me to do an article on phone sex.”

“Did you do it?” She’d wondered about his call many times. "Because it doesn't matter, I’ve had reporters call me before. And you didn't really know me then anyway; you just knew India." But it stung, the fact that he'd never told her the truth about that first call.

The line of strain between his eyebrows was distinct and deep. "I did an outline, using some of the personal stuff you confided to me."

Her heart was starting to race. She kept her voice even. “What sort of personal stuff?”

He was looking increasingly miserable. "Oh, what you told me about growing up, about finding yourself pregnant with no chance of employment, the way you started your business and why you did. The thing is, I used you in the story, Maxine. Not your name, but certainly you. I used the things you confided in me.”

She stared at him. She had to clear her throat before she could speak. “What magazine was it for?” 

“The Star. It isn't published yet. It's coming out next weekend.”

“Oh.” She swallowed. Her throat was dry. “So you’ve already written it.”

“Not completely. Partially. I wrote an outline, but I haven't finished the story yet.”

"Then you can stop it.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I can't.” He started to explain about outlines and advances and integrity and his reputation, but she wasn't listening. Deep inside her, something new and fragile was disintegrating, and before the pain of destruction became unbearable, she had to get away from him.

She drew the robe around her tightly and got to her feet. She was shaking in earnest now, and she didn’t want him to see. She'd already shown him too many of her weaknesses.

"Maxine, please sit down. Talk to me.”

She shook her head and went into the bedroom. She gathered up her clothing and took it into the bathroom.

He was waiting when she came out. He didn’t try to touch her. "I never intended to hurt you," he said. “Everything I wrote about you was written with admiration. I’m in awe of your courage, Maxine.”

“But it was a betrayal.” She was amazed at how reasonable she sounded. “I told you those things because I trusted you, Harry. You should have told me you were just interviewing me. You shouldn’t have pretended you cared.”

“I do care. I told you I cared. I said I’m falling in love with you, how much clearer can I get?” He sounded angry.

She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. “That’s exactly what Ricky said when he borrowed my money, you know. He said he loved me.” She stuffed her things into the classy overnight bag she’d borrowed from Polly. “Don't worry about driving me home, Harry. I’ll take a cab.” Her handbag was on the dresser and she looped it over her shoulder.

“The hell you will. Just hold on a minute till I get my stuff together. Don’t you dare just take off.”

She heard the fear and the hurt in his voice as the door closed behind her. She ran down the hall, and fortunately there was an elevator waiting, and a yellow cab just outside the hotel door. She wanted to go home, lock herself in her bedroom, and stay there the rest of her natural life. 

“Maxine, it’s in this morning’s edition.” Edna came bursting through the kitchen door, holding out a folded newspaper. “I saw it on the newsstand when I stopped for milk, and I figured your paper wouldn’t be delivered yet, so I brought it back.”

It was barely seven-thirty. Polly was spooning Cream of Wheat into Graham while Maxine made toast and a fresh pot of coffee.

“Thanks, Edna.” Maxine suddenly felt sick and cold. “You shouldn’t have bothered to come all the way back with it. I’d have seen it soon enough anyhow."

Better to get it over with sooner than later, though. 

Maxine took the paper and flipped it open on the table, so that Polly and Edna could see too, and she could feel her body start to tremble and gorge rise in her throat.

TALK TO ME, BABY; PHONE SEX FOR PLEASURE AND PROFIT
, the front page trumpeted. Harry’s name was on the byline.

"
Do you have the gift of gab and a feminine voice? You, too, could be earning big money without the danger of sexually transmitted disease. ”

This ad or one like it appears weekly in the Help Wanted section of newspapers across North America. The telephone sex trade is flourishing, some of it from offices set up exclusively for that purpose. But phone sex is also a thriving home-based vocation. There are an increasing number of entrepreneurs, like Aurora, who operates her business from a modest bungalow in a quiet Vancouver suburb.

“Aurora, huh? Well, Aurora’s not bad. At least he picked an imaginative pseudonym for you, Maxine.” Polly put a sympathetic arm around her shoulders and together they all bent over the table.

Upon request, the telephone company installed a 900 number, and Aurora signed a contract, agreeing to pay them 40 percent of her profits. On a good night, Aurora and her employee might take in an estimated fourteen to sixteen hundred dollars. There's nothing illegal about it; Aurora keeps careful records and religiously pays her income tax.

“At least he got his facts straight so far, right?" Polly asked.

“It’s not at all degrading,” Edna commented. Maxine couldn’t say anything. Her skin prickled with dread as she skimmed down the page, and bile burned in her throat.

Although her customers can’t see her, Aurora is young, beautiful, titian-haired, green-eyed, curvaceous. She’s also excellent at her job; her unusually deep, throaty voice and creative imagination often keep customers enthralled for upward of forty minutes. What she does is tough and time consuming but financially lucrative. It has to be; Aurora is a single parent, raising her year-old son alone. The daughter of a small-town minister whose rigid and judgmental standards drove her away from home at an early age, Aurora had no one to turn to and nowhere to go when she found herself pregnant and jobless. . . . 

Graham, feeling abandoned in his high chair, began to squirm and whine. Fingers clumsy, Maxine fumbled with the straps and lifted him out, heedless of the sticky cereal that covered his hands and cheeks. She hugged him close, aware of the blood pounding in her temples.

"Hey, listen to this." Polly read the next portion aloud:
Ricky Shwartz, an airline pilot, disappeared long before his son was born, taking with him Aurora's life savings and leaving her pregnant and destitute.' ”

Maxine gasped. “That traitor. I told him about Ricky and the money only last weekend. He must have waited until I was asleep and then scribbled down notes.”

“Hold on, it’s continued on page two.” Polly flipped to it eagerly, but Maxine had had enough. She felt as if she'd been punched in the stomach.

“How could he? How could he do this to me?” she raged.

Polly glanced at her and shrugged. “It’s not a bad article, Maxine. It’s obvious the guy cares about you. And this stuff about Shwartz is the best news I’ve heard since Judge Crandall retired. If there’s anybody out there who knows where Shwartzie is, this might just be the way we’ll locate him.” She sounded exuberant, and Maxine felt suddenly outraged.

“You think there’s nothing wrong with this?” She was hollering, and Graham gave her a shocked look. His mouth puckered and he started to sob. Maxine lowered her voice and patted him, but she had to tell her friends how she felt. “You think it’s okay that he got me to spill my guts, and then copied it all down and sold it?” Her voice trembled and went up an octave. "I can’t believe you'd be so callous, Polly.”

“Shall I take him?” Edna held her arms out and Graham went to her gladly. Edna smiled at him and headed to the bathroom to wash him off while Polly and Maxine glared at each other.

“No, I don’t think this is all right. That’s not what I meant at all,” Polly said forcefully. “I think he was a rat and an idiot not to tell you sooner what he was doing. But I also think it could have been worse. Here, read the rest of this, he’s presented you exactly as you are, a smart and hardworking businesswoman with a kid to support. He’s sarcastic about the guys who use the service and sympathetic to you. Hell, he actually makes you sound like a heroine, is that so bad?”

"Victim is more like it.” Maxine snorted. "Some idiot female who didn’t have enough sense to use birth control.”

“Maxine, that’s not true. Look here; he says that you’re highly intelligent and inventive, that—”

"Obviously you don't get it," Maxine snapped. “And I don’t need to read about my life. I lived it, remember?" 

She couldn’t be around Polly or that miserable paper one moment longer, or she’d start screaming. "I’m going to change, and then I’m going grocery shopping. I don’t want to hear another word about this. I just want to forget it ever happened.”

“Okay.” Polly held her hands up, palms out. “Okay, you got it; we’ll never mention it again. And I'll baby-sit while you’re at the store, give you time to cool off.”

Maxine shook her head. “I’m cool. I’m taking Graham with me. He likes the supermarket.” She knew she was being snippy and she didn’t give a damn.

“Fine.” Polly did her best to sound soothing. “What about the business phone? If it rings, I could give it a try. . . .”

Maxine had heard Polly talking to her secretary often enough to know that only a caller wanting a demented dominatrix would stay on the line with her longer than two seconds.

"Thanks, but I’ll program the business phone for call forwarding and take any calls on my cell."

"Whatever,” Polly sighed. “Well, then, if you don’t need me to baby-sit or answer the phone, maybe I’ll go to the beach. I could use some fresh air, and it's actually hot out there today. And I do have that new silver bikini.” A calculating look stole over her face. “Maybe I'll give 

Doc a call and see if he wants to be my chauffeur.”

"You know seeing him is gonna put you in a foul mood,” Maxine reminded her. “The last three times he took you out, you weren’t fit to live with for days afterward.”

“So I’ve got short-term memory loss where he’s concerned. He’s a challenge, sooner or later he’ll give in. The bikini might do it. It’s got a thong bottom.”

Maxine didn’t want to hear about thongs, either. They reminded her of the night with Harry.

She tried to put him and the article out of her mind as she went to retrieve Graham.

Edna was kneeling beside the tub, giving him a bath.

“You okay?” She gave Maxine a worried look.

“Yeah, I'll get over it. Thanks for bathing Graham. I’m sorry I was so short-tempered.”

“You had a right.” Edna got to her feet and hugged Maxine. “I’m sorry Harry hurt you. I’m going home now to get some sleep. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Thanks, Edna. You’re a good friend.” Edna’s kindness touched her, and Maxine had to struggle to keep the tears back. She searched for a subject that would take her mind off the newspaper. “You look really pretty with that new hairdo.”

Terry had cut Edna's thick club of hair into a stylish wedge that brought out the beauty of her classic features and emphasized her eyes.

Edna blushed with pleasure. “I've already had two responses to the ad Polly helped me put on the Internet,” she confided in a shy tone. “One of them sounds really nice. He wants me to meet him for lunch next week.”

“Go for it. You deserve somebody who appreciates you.”

"Don't we all.” Edna sighed. "Trouble is, what we deserve and what we get are often very different things."

She left, and Maxine dried her son and dressed him, determined not to let the article devastate her. "C’mon, dumplin’, let’s go in the car.”

“Car?” Graham’s face lit up. He was learning new words every day. He pressed his lips together and made the car sound that Sadie had taught him, and Maxine’s heart hurt. She’d fallen in love with Sadie as well as with Harry, and now she wouldn’t see the little girl again.

Fighting tears, she changed into jeans and a shirt and hurried out to the garage.

The supermarket was busy when they arrived. The first thing Maxine noticed was an overflowing rack of Star newspapers, Harry’s headline blaring. There seemed no getting away from the article.

She fastened Graham into the buggy and slunk off down the aisles, reminding herself that no one could possibly know she was the Aurora in the article.

Graham babbled cheerfully as she tossed in cereal, crackers, tomato sauce, toilet tissue, garbage bags, juice. The cart was nearly full by the time she reached the produce section, and she glanced around, praying that it was Leonard’s day off. She just wasn't up to fending off his slavering advances this morning.

She shoved a head of lettuce into the cart and was filling a bag with apples when she heard her cell phone ringing. Her heart sank. The last thing she felt like doing was taking a business call, and on top of it all, Graham was beginning to get restless. She thought of just letting it ring, but business was business. No matter how terrible she felt, there were still bills to pay and groceries to buy.

She snatched up a box of crackers from the cart and hastily fumbled it open, handing one to her son as she clicked the receive button on the phone and frantically looked around for a quiet corner where she could take the call, but there were shoppers everywhere.

"India? Hey, babe, long time no talk. How ya doin’?”

"I’m fine, darlin.” It was a superhuman effort to sound languid and sensual. "I wondered when you’d call. I’ve missed you.” It was one of her regulars, but for the life of her she couldn’t place him. Charlie? Chip? Chuck? She racked her brain for a name, but Harry was the only name she could think of. And where was she going to go that was reasonably private?

There was a short corridor leading to the back storage area, with a sign saying Employees Only on the swinging door. Maxine maneuvered the laden cart in and stood with her back to the store, hunched over the phone.

Chad, that was it. Forcing lightness and sensuality into her tone, she cooed, “Gosh, Chad, I just got out of the tub. Give me a minute to dry off and put on some panties.”

Graham shrieked and reached for another chunk of banana.

"Who’s there with you?” Chad sounded suspicious.

“It’s just Candy, my little poodle, you remember her?” Maxine improvised, propping the phone between her shoulder and ear and frantically thrusting another cracker at Graham. "There, now, I’ve put on a black negligee and these teensy thong panties. You do like thongs, Chad?”

“Describe them. Tell me how they feel.” His voice was thick, and Maxine went into a breathless and detailed description involving a narrow strip of lace hiding amidst lavish buttocks.

Graham had had enough banana. He wanted a drink, and she was fumbling in her handbag for his bottle and encouraging Chad with suitable murmurs and gasps and moans when she heard a squeak behind her.

She whirled around. Leonard was standing a bare foot from her and he seemed to be choking. He was holding a large head of emerald green broccoli against his chest, but his face was beet colored. Obviously he'd overheard her conversation.

It was far too late to deter Chad. Maxine waved Graham’s bottle at Leonard in a halfhearted salute and plugged it in her son’s mouth. She panted as Chad gasped and moaned his way past the point of no return, and when he was coherent again Maxine stared Leonard in the eye and gave Chad the line about how wonderful it had been for her.

Leonard, whose open mouth and round eyes made him resemble a fish, gulped and wheezed as she disconnected the phone and stuck it into her jacket pocket.

“Hi, Leonard.” She pulled the loaded cart backward, forcing him to move out of the way. “Sorry about that. Business call."

"Hi, Ms. Bleckner.” Leonard’s voice was little more than a whimper. He stood to the side and let her edge past. She had the creepy feeling his eyes were going to pop out of their sockets and roll straight down the neck of her blouse.

“Did . . . did . . . did you . . . ahhh, did you happen to notice the zucchini, Ms. Bleckner? Fresh in this morning.” 

“I'm in no mood for zucchini, Leonard, thanks anyway."

Maxine headed for the checkout, praying that she wouldn’t get another call until she was safely out of the store.

She made it to the car, unloaded the groceries and Graham, and slid behind the wheel. Her hands were trembling, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or burst into tears.