High Score (18 page)

She climaxed violently, with cries of passion. Her contractions pushed him over. Mindlessly, blissfully, he pumped her full of his semen.

For several moments, he sprawled atop her, completely spent. Gathering his waning strength, he shifted the weight of his torso to the side without disengaging so she could catch her breath more easily.

“Oh, no. We did it again.” she murmured.

“Did what?”

“We forgot the condom again!”

He gasped as the realization hit him and punched the pillow. “Well, shit!”

She pushed him off her and struggled to sit up. “We forgot! How could we forget?”

“When I’m with you, I’m a mindless idiot!” He sat up. Gazing into her wide eyes, noting her alarm, he experienced a twinge of unexpected satisfaction. He could have impregnated her! Why did that fact make him want to gloat?

“Oh, Thor! What am I going to do?” she whispered.

His gaze shifted, moved the length of her body, and focused on her lower belly. He placed his palm over her womb and experienced a rush of emotion he couldn’t identify. He was appalled, wasn’t he? Certainly he didn’t want her to have his baby.

Do I?

“We’ll have to hope for the best,” he said. “Where are you in your cycle?”

She covered her face with her hands. “Somewhere in the middle.”

Thor shrugged and grinned, wondering at his own calmness in the face of this possible catastrophe. "The pharmacy down the street should have a morning after pill. Personally, I don't put a lot of faith in those, but we can try."

* * * * *

When Shelley arrived home late Sunday morning, she dropped her duffel bag full of sex toys beside the front door and headed for the kitchen. Her stomach growled loudly. Having skipped breakfast in order to enjoy fun and games with Thor as long as possible, she’d built up an appetite.

She poured a glass of water and swallowed one of the "morning after" pills she'd picked up at the pharmacy on her way home.
This had better work!

The fruit bowl on the counter contained one slightly shrunken orange, two apples, and a nicely speckled banana. She peeled and mixed the fruit together, then carried the bowl to the dining table.

It had been difficult parting with Thor, knowing she probably wouldn’t see him again. And he hadn’t wanted to let her go. She’d recognized his anguish, because it matched her own. But he’d had a previously scheduled appointment to meet with his cousin Joe to finalize their plans for the sale of High Score, so she’d dropped him off at his shop and gone home. 

Knowing that he was gearing up to leave town, she hadn’t admitted how she felt about him. The truth of that had hit her like a thunderclap as she lay in Thor’s arms reeling in the aftermath of an orgasm. Choosing a lifelong partner didn’t have as much to do with sexual prowess and techniques as it did finding someone she could trust, someone with whom she had no reservations, no barriers to intimacy. She had given her body to Thor with abandon. If he had asked, she would have given him her heart.

Her mouth was full of fruit when a knock on the front door told her she had a visitor. She wiped juice from her chin with a napkin and went to answer the summons.

“Dickie!” She stepped aside to let him enter.

He stepped past her without a word. His troubled expression gave her notice that all was not right in his world. Her eye fell on the High Score duffel bag by the door, and she wondered what he would think if he knew what it contained. Would he recognize the logo on it?

“What’s wrong?” She shifted position to block his view of the bag. Surreptitiously, she kicked it around to hide the logo.

Usually cheerful, today he appeared positively glum. “I owe you an apology.”

“Oh? What for?” As if she didn’t know! She closed the door behind him with more impact than she intended.

Dickie flinched at the sharp sound and gave her a startled look.

“Come in and sit down.” She waved him toward the living room.

Hands in his pockets, he shambled to the sofa and slumped down. Never had he looked so dejected. She took the chair set at right angles to the sofa, the better to watch his face and try to figure out where he was coming from.

He took a deep breath as though gathering courage. “I’m sorry. I was a shit, and I don’t know how you put up with me!” Leaning forward slightly, he braced his elbows on his thighs and linked his fingers together between his knees. He kept his eyes focused on his hands.

“You mean, about…” She bit her lip to keep from putting words in his mouth.

Give him rope and let him hang himself.

“I lied when I said I didn’t know what Skeeter had planned for the party,” he said, without looking at her. “He and the other guys hired a woman to come and, uh…”

“A stripper?”

“Yeah. And they reserved a room for us—her and me—at the Hilton.”

“And?” She crossed her arms over her chest, unable to believe he was spilling his guts about his indiscretion after the fact. What devious impulse made him want to rub it in now? She’d never heard a more pathetic apology.

“She was supposed to, you know, have sex with me.”

Resentment flared inside her. She couldn’t hold it back. “What about our agreement, Dickie? You insisted that we wait.”

“I know. But the more I thought about it, the more ignorant I felt, and the more I dreaded being a disappointment to you.”

She glared at him, but the miserable coward still wouldn’t look at her. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt? We could have discussed it.”

“I know. And I am.” For the first time, he lifted his gaze to hers. He had the nerve to look hopeful, like a puppy that had piddled on the floor and thought that groveling would put him back in her good graces.

Fat chance!

She straightened her spine and pressed her lips firmly together. “Go on.”

“I want to apologize for even thinking about going back on my word, and for lying to you. I’ve been feeling terrible about it. I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.”

A small righteous voice in her head suggested this might be a good time to confide in him about her own indiscretions. Before she could act on that impulse, however, another wiser voice countered, advising her to stay quiet and let him have his say first.

“I couldn’t do it,” he continued. “I kept thinking about how you would feel if you knew. And I couldn’t do it. I walked out on her.”

“You what?” Her jaw dropped.

“I felt like crap even considering being unfaithful to you.” He reached out and gripped her nerveless fingers with his own, pulling her arm away from her defensive posture. “I wanted you to know what happened, because what you heard was right. You knew about the stripper, and even though I denied it, you didn’t believe me—as well you shouldn’t have! And I’m so sorry, Shelley. Please say you forgive me.”

“You didn’t sleep with the hooker?” Her heart pounded. This couldn’t be true!

“No. I swear it! I’ll take you to see her, and you can ask her yourself if you want. I can’t bear to have secrets like this between you and me. It’s not the sort of thing I want to base our marriage on. Our relationship is too precious to put at risk with lies and hypocrisy.”

She swallowed with an effort, wanting to pull her hand from his, but lacking the strength. He thought he was a shit for even contemplating infidelity. What did that make her?

“Oh, God,” he moaned, dropping to his knees before her and pressing his forehead against her thigh. “If you don’t forgive me, I don’t know what I’ll do!”

“Sit up, Dickie.” She feebly pushed his shoulder. “I forgive you.”

He kissed her fingers. “You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I almost screwed it up.”

Shit! Shit! Shit!
What was she going to do? What could she say? He’d die if she told him what she’d done. Yet, how could she justify keeping it from him after his heartfelt confession? A confession to
premeditating
a breach of promise, but not carrying through.

The revelation shook her. She didn’t doubt his sincerity. Remembering how nervous he’d gotten when she’d tried to seduce him, she could easily visualize him running out of the hotel room, leaving behind a baffled hooker. Oh, yes. He was telling the truth, all right.

He embraced her legs.

She plucked at his fingers. “It’s okay, Dickie. No harm done.” She tried to peel his hands off her legs.

Unfaithful!
That’s what she was. There must be a special place in hell for the likes of her.

“You’re an angel, you know that?” His face beamed with a new and happier light. “You’re going to make me the best wife in the whole world.”

Never in her life had she felt this guilty. “I appreciate your honesty, Dickie.”

“I’m so glad I saved myself for you, Shelley.”

* * * * *

“Rita?” Shelley’s hand trembled slightly as she held the phone receiver to her ear. “Is there any way you could come over? I’ve lost some weight and my wedding gown doesn’t fit very well anymore. I need your advice.”

Since Sunday, she hadn’t been able to eat much or to get a full night’s sleep, and it was taking its toll. Four days remained before her wedding, and she was a basket case.

“Sure, honey. I’ll be over right after supper. Is seven okay?”

“Perfect. See you then.”

Shelley hung up the phone and wandered dispiritedly back to the full-length mirror in her bedroom. The wedding dress hung on her. How could she have dropped two sizes in the short time since she’d bought the gown? It didn’t make sense. But then, nothing made sense anymore.

She bunched the excess fabric at her waistline in order to estimate how much needed to be taken in. God, she wished she were more excited about the upcoming nuptials. Why, oh, why had she ever thought it was a good idea to take Thor up on his offer of sex tutoring? Instead of assuring herself of a wonderful wedding night with Dickie, she’d pretty much ruined any chance of that. Might have ruined the whole marriage, in fact.

What if Dickie didn’t measure up to Thor’s vigorous lovemaking? What if he wasn’t built like Thor? She’d never touched Dickie’s hard-on through his jeans, let alone caught a glimpse of his penis. What if he was puny? What if, heaven forbid, he didn’t know what to do with it?

She wasn’t being fair to Dickie, she knew. Remorse weighed her down like a load of concrete. If she hadn’t spread her legs for Thor, she would have had nothing with which to compare Dickie’s physical attributes and performance. What a fool she’d been! She deserved every second of misery she had to live through.

Rita arrived shortly after seven, took one look at Shelley, and swore fluently. “You look like death warmed over! Have you had the flu? Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?”

“I’m not sick,” Shelley said. “I just haven’t been sleeping well. I have low energy.”

“You’re pale and you have circles under your eyes.” Rita ran a critical gaze over Shelley’s wedding gown, which hung on her like a frilly sack. “You looked great in that dress when you tried it on at the shop. What happened?”

“I lost weight.”

“All that in three weeks flat? I’ll have to learn your secret.”

Shelley shrugged listlessly. “What’ll we do about it?”

“I’ll have to take it in. If we hire it done, it’ll cost a fortune.”

“Rita, you’re a lifesaver! What would I do without you?”

“I haven’t worked any miracles yet.” Her friend took a deep breath. “Do you have some straight pins? We have to see how much to take it up.”

“Right here.” Shelley stood still as Rita measured and stuck pins along the seams of her gown.

The process took almost twenty minutes, during which time Shelley started feeling lightheaded standing immobile so long.

Finally Rita rose from her knees. “Okay, give it here. I’ll take it home and see what I can do.”

Shelley let Rita help her get the dress off over her head. “Do you have time for a cup of tea? Or a glass of wine?”

Rita hesitated, eyeing her closely. “I’ll take the time.” She followed Shelley into the kitchen and perched on a barstool at the breakfast counter. “Tell me what’s really going on.”

Shelley sighed and put the teapot on the stove to boil. “I’m not feeling very energetic lately.”

“You’re not still mad at Dickie, are you? Skeeter told me Dickie apologized to you about the hooker. He never slept with her, you know.”

“I know.”

“So what’s wrong? Aren’t you looking forward to the wedding?”

Tears gathered in Shelley’s eyes. “Not very much.”

“You didn’t have another falling out with Dickie, did you?” Suddenly, Rita gasped. “Oh, my God! It’s Thor, isn’t it? You’re still hung up on him.”

Shelley wiped her eyes. “I feel awful.”

“I wouldn’t wonder.” Rita stood up and gave Shelley a hug. “Poor thing, I feel for you. But you have only yourself to blame.”

The teapot began whistling shrilly. Shelley disengaged herself from Rita’s arms and moved toward the stove. Lifting the pot, she poured boiling water into two cups and added tea bags.