Dashing Through the Snow (7 page)

Benson didn’t even try to stop her, indulging
her in long drawn out kisses and intimate cuddling. Lily couldn’t
decide if she was more disgusted with herself for being a voyeur or
with them for their rampant public displays. She’d been more than
ready to leave when he’d signaled to the waiter that he was ready
to pay the bill. As he was paying, Lily had left and gone to her
car.

From there the couple’s midnight ramblings
had taken Lily to a dance club. She’d squeezed in, shoved through
and begged pardon at least several dozen times, but she’d gotten
the shots she was sure would help her client.

“He simply wouldn’t keep his hands off her,”
Lily said aloud as she stared at a picture that showed the
red-headed woman and Mr. Benson standing so close to one another
that they might have been plastered together. His hands were
splayed upon her butt. “Ugh.” Lily shuddered as she was reminded of
how much bumping and grinding had gone on between the two the night
before.

She picked up several more photos that showed
the two kissing. “In this one it looks like he’s completely
swallowed her tongue,” she tried to say with a detached tone as she
studied a picture of the woman leaning over Benson as he leaned
against the bar. “Her mouth is attached to his as if it were the
suction hose of a vacuum.” There were several more just like that
and then there was the
coup
de
grace
: Benson
sat in a booth with the woman sitting astride his thighs. Her skirt
was up, her panties were half way down her thighs and the fingers
of one of his hands were hidden between her thighs, while the other
hand had a firm hold on one of her breasts.

“Privacy booth my ass,” Lily murmured as she
remembered how easy it had been to get the picture. The protective
curtains had been left wide open and she hadn’t been the one to
open them, which made her think that the two were a pair of
exhibitionists. “But that’s neither here nor there,” she said as
she gathered the images and began sliding them into a manila
envelope. “My work here is done, and thank the good lord for
that.”

She unfolded her legs and rose from the bed,
her toes curling into the plush cream colored carpeting. Once she’d
moved into her grandmother’s house, she’d commandeered the bedroom
that her grandmother had given to her as a child. Telling her that
the room would always be hers no matter what, Candace had let Lily
decorate the large room to her own taste. As a result, the room had
gone through at least three changes in Lily’s lifetime. The last
one had been when she was seventeen.

Her grandmother had allowed the redecoration
as a combined birthday and Christmas present. Lily had taken down
the pink hearts and roses wallpaper and had covered the walls in a
pale pink paint. She’d gotten a queen-sized four poster bed with
posts that almost reached the ceiling. Her chest of drawers,
bedside table and vanity were made from white oak heartwood. She’d
liked the set because it was a pale brown with a pinkish overtone.
A few framed Impressionist and ballet prints had completed the
redesign.

Lily still liked the room. It appealed to her
sense of romance, particularly the bed with its spectacular swish
of rose pink sheer curtains that draped from the posts and even
covered the top, serving as a canopy. She remembered that Smith had
taken one look at the bed all those years ago, shook his head,
muttered one word: “
Jesus
!” and walked away.

Thinking of Smith made Lily stomp, more than
walk, as she headed from the room and down the hall to the
bathroom. “Sadistic bastard,” she said as she thought about the
scene he’d orchestrated on the front walk in the wee hours of the
morning. “Just what is he up to?”

She looked at herself in the mirror over the
sink and frowned at the dark circles under her eyes and the tangled
hair that hung messily past her shoulders and around her face. It
was still damp from the washing she’d given it when she arrived
home. She snatched up a wide-tooth comb from a shelf behind her,
carefully worked through the tangles, and then using several
hairpins, pinned her hair up atop her head. That finished, she
grabbed her favorite bubble bath from another shelf and stalked
over to the claw-feet bathtub. The slipper tub was long and wide
with one end angled upward so that the bather could recline in
comfort.

“I need to relax,” she said over the rushing
water as she watched bubbles begin to foam. “Oh, forget it,” she
murmured and dumped more liquid in so that the tub began to look
like it would be overrun with bubbles. “After the night I had, I
can afford a few more. I
deserve
a few more.”

The bubble bath was an expensive brand and
try as she might, the last time she’d purchased a supply, she
hadn’t been able to find a way to get it discounted. “Not a promo
code or coupon to be found anywhere,” she said with a soft frown,
still mildly upset at having had to pay full price. But as the
clean scent of powder and fresh linen rose in the air, she took a
deep breath and didn’t regret using so much of the wonderful stuff.
She’d had a quick shower before going to bed, but still felt soiled
after last night’s work and after stripping off her boxers and
T-shirt, sighed in relief as her body slid under the calming
cleanse of the water.

There was a floor cabinet next to the tub,
and she opened one of the double doors to grab a small silk pillow
she kept there. She affixed it to the lip of the tub and leaned her
head back. A smile on her face now, she closed her eyes as she felt
her muscles begin to relax under the gentle lapping of the water.
“Aaah,” she said, feeling as though the muscles were actually
dissolving. She picked up her fluffy body sponge and squirted some
body wash of the same scent as the bubble bath onto it.

Starting with her neck, she began to wash. An
image of Smith as he’d looked the night before popped into her head
and annoyed, she tried to think of something else. But the image
was persistent -- even beating out a new jacket she’d had her eye
on -- and she finally decided to go with it. “He always looks so
good,” she said softly with resignation as she thought of how good
he’d looked in his jeans and cowboy boots. She was moving the
sponge across her shoulders now and the movement became more of a
shivering caress than anything else as she stared into space and
remembered the way he moved – there was an unhurried sexy rhythm to
his walk, even when he was rushing.

“God, there’s just something in the way that
man moves.” One hand went to her throat where she stroked her
fingers across the hollow there as she pictured his long, loose
gait. “Mmm…delicious.”

“And his smell. Yummy,” she murmured
breathlessly as heat fiercely curled low in her belly. Her fingers
squeezed the sponge tighter so that water dripped onto her suddenly
hot skin. Memories of the one night they’d been together assailed
her mind and she moaned aloud. As she remembered how good he’d felt
on top of her as he’d thrust powerfully and repeatedly into her
body, she whimpered and slid her hand between her suddenly opened
thighs. Her body went hot with need, her breath quickened and the
sponge fell forgotten to the floor.

***

Lily emerged from her room with her body
feeling amazingly fluid and her stomach growling with hunger.
Feeling completely stress-free, she’d dressed in blue jeans and
topped them off with two long-sleeved Henley shirts, navy on top,
white beneath, for a layered look. Her hair flowed into a French
braid down her back. In stocking feet she padded down the stairs
where she made a right into the living room and after stopping to
turn on the television so she could listen while she cooked, she
walked through the dining room and went through the swinging doors
that led to the kitchen.

Just as she was reaching in the fridge for
the bacon, the doorbell rang. Baffled, she went to answer the door,
wondering who would be visiting so early on a Sunday morning. It
was a few minutes past ten and most people she knew were in church.
The door had long narrow windows on either side and she peered
through one of them. A spurt of dismay went through her when she
saw who stood on the porch. “Oh, no!” she said, but a huge smile
split her face as she rushed to unlock and open the door.

“I’m so sorry!” she said to Sue Carlson as
she hugged her. “I completely forgot you were coming. Oh, but it’s
so
good
to see you!” She tightened her arms around her best
friend. “It’s been so long!”

“It’s really good to see you, too, but what
do you mean you forgot I was coming?” her friend inquired. “I just
talked to you Friday about my stopping through on my way to meet
with that art gallery owner in Geneva.”

They were inside now, and Lily had taken her
friend’s coat and was hanging it in the small closet in the foyer.
“So much has happened since then, I don’t know where to begin,” she
said and led Sue into the living room to sit on the sofa. She
looked at her best friend. Sue was a petite, feisty woman with a
mess of curly blond hair and dark brown eyes. She’d been Lily’s
best friend for more than ten years. The two had met when they were
both sophomores at DePaul University. They’d both been education
majors. Sue was still a teacher, but she was also an artist with a
pretty good following.

Sue pushed some hair out of her face and
widened her eyes in excitement. “Well, don’t keep me in suspense.
Tell me everything!”

Lily put a hand to her stomach. “What would
you say to us having that discussion over breakfast? I’m
starved.”

“Sounds good to me,” Sue said. “Can we go to
that great little place your parents used to take us to for brunch
when we’d come up for the weekends? Is it still around? You know
the one,” she said and snapped her fingers as if the act would
improve her memory. “What was it called again? Olivia’s?
Owen’s?”

“It’s called Ollie’s, and yes, it’s still
around, and yes, if that’s what you’d like, we can certainly go
there.” Ollie’s was a fixture in Sheffield-Chatham and had been run
by the same family for more than a hundred years. “It will save me
the chore of cooking.”

“Oh, goodie!” Sue cooed and clapped her hands
in delight like a child who’d just gotten her fondest wish. “Lemon
berry pancakes!”

Lily chuckled at her exaggerated silliness as
she rose. “And that delicious country fresh breakfast sausage that
the family makes itself. Mmmm, I can’t wait! Just let me grab my
boots and jacket and I’ll be ready to go.”

“Great! I’ll get my coat and meet you out
front.”

“Do you mind if we walk, Lil?” Sue asked,
once they were outside on the porch. “You know how much I love the
charm of this town and I so rarely get to come here.”

“It’s fine. I need the exercise anyway,” Lily
told her as she thought about yesterday’s Santa chase through
downtown. She finished locking the door, and turning, slid her arm
through Sue’s in companionship.

“Which route do you want to take? I can take
you so that we walk through Sheffield Park to see the ice skaters,
or we can take the route where we run into the…” she looked at Sue
expectantly and with a huge grin.

Sue looked baffled at first. “What—oh, I
know! The funicular!
Let’s go
…”

“
Let’s go, let’s go to the top!”
Lily
joined in singing with her.
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go to the
top! Funiculi, funiculà, funiculi, funiculà. Let’s go to the top.
Funiculi, funiculà!”

By the time they finished the song, they were
yelling at the top of their lungs and almost skipping down the
street. They stopped and held onto each other as they laughed,
completely uncaring of the stares they attracted from passerby.
“Oh, my God, I needed that!” Lily said after she’d caught her
breath. “It’s always so good to see you, Sue. You inspire me to be
ridiculous.”

Sue smiled. “Same here. I’m so sorry I missed
you before you moved from Chicago in October.”

Lily looked at her friend. Dressed in black
leather pants, a pair of paint splattered black combat boots and a
yellow leather jacket covered in a fabric Lily thought might be
mohair, Sue looked exactly like she was: a Bohemian artist. People
often looked at her with her wide soft eyes, crazy hair, delicate
build and unique way of dressing and saw a pushover. They were
always mistaken, but Sue could be soft-hearted when it came to her
friends.

Lily snorted as Sue’s last statement was
proof of her soft heart.

“What?” Sue asked her.

“It’s just that I agree with you. I mean, how
could you choose an opportunity to take a sabbatical and study in
Rome over the chance to spend time with me before I moved back
here? After all, it was just a once in a lifetime chance. What kind
of friend are you, anyway?” Lily’s breath was coming just a bit
quicker as the path became steeper as they drew closer to Town
Square.

“Shut up and let me enjoy myself,” Sue shot
back, her breathing a little more laborious as well. They strode
toward the left side of the square where an old well stood. “Oh, I
just love this town!” she exclaimed as she pulled her camera out of
her purse.

Lily chuckled as she watched her. True, the
well and its old, crumbling stone masonry were a sight to behold.
The well was two hundred years old and was almost as old as the
town. It was roped off, but it was still possible to get decent
pictures of it. Knowing that Sue could get so absorbed with her
photography that she’d forget about her for a while, Lily wandered
toward one of the food and beverage carts. She purchased two cups
of hot white chocolate and sat on one of the available benches to
wait for her friend.

Sipping the rich drink, she sat back and just
observed the happenings around her. The Square was always pretty
busy; no matter what the weather and today was no exception. Ringed
by specialty shops as it was, there was always a reason to come to
the Square. She looked toward the center of the popular spot and
scowled. “Ho, ho, ho my ass,” she muttered as she watched
Sheffield-Chatham’s official Town Square Santa make his way out of
the life-sized gingerbread-like house and sit on the red-velvet
covered throne the town had set up for him. There was already a
line of children on the green runner leading to the chair. He was
too tall to be the Santa that had attacked her car, but he was a
horrible reminder.