Sinful Too (12 page)

“Okay, so you want to put this on Jesus? You really want to take it there?”

“Where’s that, Nadeen?”

“To the cross,” she spat venomously. “First off, there’s not one mention about Christ taking a nip for himself. And secondly, Jesus never once came home smelling like Bath and Body Works.”

“I can explain that.”
The bubble bath with Dior
, he thought.
I’ve got to be more careful.
“That’s nothing but your imagination. I told you I went by the gym to work out. I showered afterwards with some of that citrus bath gel they’re always trying to sell you when you sign out.” Richard was thinking quick on his feet and plucking lies out of the air just as fast. He forged ahead, playing on Nadeen’s insecurities. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were jealous. It’s kind of getting me going too.” He snuggled up behind her and wrapped his hands around her thick waist, thinking how Dior’s was much slimmer.

“Go on now, Richard, don’t start anything you aren’t willing to finish. I can’t take rejection twice in one week.”

Richard said he was sorry about that then lied about being mentally drained at the time. “My mind is pretty clear now though,” he whispered in her ear. “There’s only one thing on it: what I want to do to you.”

“Can you do that thing I like?”

“You know I can.”

Nadeen quivered when she felt a twinge shooting up her thighs. “Well, what about the girls?”

“Don’t get so loud, they won’t hear you.” He convinced her to leave the kitchen in disarray, which was extremely uncharacteristic. Then he locked the bedroom door and turned the television on just in case the girls came snooping around for them.

In a ravenous display of passion, Richard practically tore Nadeen’s clothes from her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she felt so desirable. Richard ran his fingertips along the ridges of her breasts, tracing his fingers with tender kisses, just the way she liked. Even though Richard envisioned Dior’s body instead of his wife’s every step of the way, he put his all into their early evening rendezvous.

Nadeen bit down on the pillowcase when she could no longer battle the fervent cries welling up inside of her. She sank her nails in his back as a renegade scream roared from her mouth. “I can’t get enough, baby!” she panted loudly. “Shhhh, the girls will hear us. Okay, okay. I’ll be quiet. Ooh! Here comes another one!” Nadeen kept on panting until Richard was convinced she’d been pleasantly persuaded to drop her suspicions and alter her attitude about the night before.

“I love it when you take your time and drive real slow,” she cooed afterward. “I’m going to take a shower before I fall asleep. Richard? Richard?”

He pretended to have dozed off already.
At least one of us got what they needed
, he thought.
Driving slow? I hate cruising in the geriatric lane. Dior, that girl’s a freak. I know she can keep up. I’d bet on it. Shoot, I’d be willing to pay for it too.

Twelve

Deep Dug Ditch

R
ichard stayed up half the night thinking. He lay in bed, next to the wife he loved but didn’t care for her like a good husband should. Sure, if Nadeen had fallen ill, he’d have been there day and night by her bedside praying for her full recovery. Sympathy wasn’t what she needed now and he couldn’t find it in himself to shower her with adoration the way he used to. Dior was renting space in his head, in every available room. Although they hadn’t known each other for any substantial length of time, his best was hers for the asking. Deep down inside, Richard never stopped thinking about having a woman on the side, a younger woman at that. He couldn’t believe it was now staring him in the face. He’d counseled couples on the mend after the husbands thought they were handling their business on both ends. In time, the affairs grew out of hand and too much to manage. He knew what it would take to sustain a full-fledged romance. He decided against the strain of pleasing two women simultaneously. Someone had to get the short end of the stick. Someone had to lose out. There were no two ways about it: heartbreak and misery traveled the same roads with cheating spouses. He’d seen enough upheaval in rocky marriages to know that pain and suffering was the cost, to be paid in full every time. Once Richard had thoroughly evaluated the magnitude of adultery, hanging out near the fringes was as close as he was willing to get. He smiled to himself when it made perfect sense. Dior was extremely tempting but not worth eating the whole apple. Nibbling around the edges, as long as she allowed him to, felt like a safe and satisfying alternative. Confident that his after-dinner romp was a satisfying deposit in Nadeen’s quality-time bank, Richard determined he deserved a couple of days off for good behavior.

Richard was up and out of the house at six o’clock the next morning. While en route to the health club, he diagrammed the next forty-eight hours of his life. Allocating every spare minute to seeing Dior was his top priority. He hoped she’d be willing to reciprocate by setting aside time for him too. She agreed to meet him on her lunch break after he sent a third text message. “So when can I see you?” he asked, once she answered his sixth phone call.

“You have to stop blowing up my cell, Richard. You know I got to work. These clothes don’t sell themselves,” she cackled playfully. “Are you trying to get me fired?”

“Of course not,” Richard replied quickly. “I wouldn’t think of coming between you and your independence. Every woman needs to have her own.”

“Good, then let up off the phone calls and meet me on my lunch break in twenty minutes.” Dior agreed on an out-of-the-way place to meet where he felt at ease and not likely to run into members from his congregation. She told him about Casa Blanca, a Mexican restaurant south of the freeway. It was a small place, converted from a family residence by immigrants. Dior appreciated the owners’ ingenuity and their authentic chicken enchiladas even more.

Richard parked in front of the tiny white house then laughed at the sign with
CASA BLANCA
stenciled on it, remembering that white house was the Spanish translation.
A clever name for a hole-in-the-wall
, he thought.
I’d better not catch anything in there.
Leery of the old neighborhood, Richard locked his car manually then armed the alarm as a secondary measure. Surely none of his esteemed church members would be caught dead in a hovel on the wrong side of the tracks. Unfortunately, he underestimated Casa Blanca’s reputation for outstanding service and famous fajitas. No sooner had he opened the door to enter, a familiar face caught his attention. His secretary was seated at a table with another woman he didn’t recognize. When he tried to duck out before she saw him, Dior strutted in through the entrance.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she asked with a suspicious expression. “I’m hungry and only get forty-five minutes.” Richard leaned in toward her, purposely shielding his face.

“Let’s find another place. My secretary is in there.”

“And what, ministers can’t break bread?” she argued, without moving an inch. “Look, Richard, you seem to be really twisted over seeing your friend in there. Maybe we should make other arrangements.”

“Cool, I’m glad you understand. There are plenty of other spots up the road. I’ll hop in the car and call you on the way.”

Dior was visibly irritated despite trying to conceal it. “Uh-uh, you don’t have to do that.”

“Really, it’s no bother,” he answered, after glancing over his shoulder.

“No, it won’t be necessary because I’m not leaving,” she informed him. “I love the food
here.
And I don’t go jumping behind bushes for
nobody.
” Dior read her watch while Richard deliberated sorely. “Maybe this was a mistake. You can’t be out with me, ducking and dodging like this. I told you I was hungry and I can hear some chicken enchiladas calling my name. Excuse me.” Dior stepped inside the restaurant alone.

Richard realized it wouldn’t be as easy as he predicted, operating from the fringes. Dior left him standing on the sidewalk, stuck in a tough position. He’d planned his morning around the slim opportunity of being in her space. He’d called her repeatedly until she conceded. With his back against the wall, Richard held fast to his reservations. Overwhelming distress in regard to explaining who Dior was and why they were together in the middle of the afternoon needled him. Richard disarmed his car alarm then jetted down the street before potentially being hit with leering eyes questioning his integrity. He couldn’t have known the secretary witnessed his entire interaction with the attractive lady through the restaurant window. Subsequently, there were two women wondering what the pastor was doing there — Dior was the other one.

Anxious to overcome the lunch date debacle, Richard employed a personal shopper at Nordstrom to assist with a shopping spree for Dior. He imagined how it must’ve looked, his neglecting to follow through after insisting she see him. It made him feel inadequate and weak. He couldn’t blame Dior if she thought less of him. His second mistake was using the credit card tied to his church expense account to charge over eleven hundred dollars in trendy designer jeans and fashion accessories to save face. Getting out of trouble was a lot like filling a deep hole: There would always be dirt left over afterward. Buying his way into a deep hole was just plain dumb.

Dior refused Richard’s phone calls for two days so he’d get the message. She had gotten over his gutlessness by the time she returned to work that day but there was no benefit in telling him. She was resigned to keep him scratching at her back door until he made it worth her while to open up and let him in. When Dior received a special delivery from the department store, time had come to unlock that door.

On the way home from work on Thursday night, she called Richard knowing he’d be standing by the phone. “Hey,” she said cordially. “I got the package from Nordstrom’s this morning. You didn’t have to do that.”
Yes you did
, she thought to herself.
Next time stop by the Prada store while you’re at it.
“You have a good eye for fashion. Thank you.”

“I didn’t think I would hear from you again after bailing on lunch. It was the least I could do.” Richard listened for signs of forgiveness in her voice.

“About that,” she answered with a lengthy pause, “I was really disappointed. Maybe I shouldn’t have been but I expected better from you.” Richard sat in his home office with the door closed, holding the phone to his ear. If she planned on resolving her feelings toward him, he couldn’t tell. “I’m almost at the house. We need to talk, in person.” Again, Dior pulled his strings like a veteran puppeteer. She didn’t ask if he was available or if he happened to be in for the night. He’d find a way to meet even if it meant cooking up an excuse to sneak out. How he managed it was not her issue; that would fall solely on him.

Richard weighed his options briefly then settled on the one response that would allow him to get some sleep later that night. “I’m on my way,” he replied quietly. “Give me twenty minutes.”

Dior hung up the phone then put her game face on.
He must be at the house
, she reasoned.
Huh, probably has to tell a string of lies to get loose. That’s what he gets for punking out on me. Spending on a shopping spree was good for him, when he could’ve gotten by with a twenty-dollar lunch. Weakness — it’s so disappointing and yet so rewarding.

Richard rang the doorbell, wearing his heart on his sleeve. Dior greeted him indifferently, wearing her sheer negligee with nothing underneath. “Well, I guess you’d better come in before we give the nosy neighbors something to talk about.”
They’re just getting used to seeing Giorgio come and go at all times of the night
, she thought.

“Hey, you,” said Richard, straight-faced and hopeful. There weren’t any guarantees she would accept his apology and then agree to continue moving forward with their tryst. Answering the door nearly nude was no clear indication. Dior was an exhibitionist, after all, who admittedly peeled off her outside clothes the moment she made it inside. Richard was a bit surprised she didn’t have on a pair of three-inch pumps, which seemed to be her house shoes of choice. “Thanks for calling me,” he added, once he’d come in and locked the door. Richard didn’t know where to go from there. Not willing to jinx things, he followed Dior into the living room with his mouth aptly shut. There was no point in acting as if he had a say in the matter. She held all the cards.

During their quiet stroll past the drawn shades, Dior began to limp gingerly. She took a seat on the far end of the sofa, on the other side of three fluffy white towels and a tray filled with assorted salts and gels. It was apparent that Richard was welcome to sit anywhere, outside of the makeshift boundary she’d created. He took the hint then sat on the love seat positioned perpendicular to her. “Do you mind getting me a bottle of water from the fridge?” she asked indifferently. Richard leaped off his perch, at the ready to fetch. “You can have one too, if you want,” she added plainly. “Thanks and oh, could you plug that in over there? I mean, since you’re already up.”

Richard tugged on a white extension cord attached to a salon size foot spa then searched for a wall socket. “I saw you limping when I came in. You hurt?”

Dior poured a small measure of cuticle remover into the bubbling water before commenting on his question. “If you saw that, then what took you so long to ask about it?” She didn’t expect an answer. The one she got in return threw her for a loop.

“I thought of sweeping you off your feet and carrying you to wherever you wanted to go. I didn’t know if you felt like being touched by me, so I backed off.” He offered a labored smile, like a man trying to sway the jury with remorse.

“How much time you got?” she asked, looking into his eyes with grave anticipation. “We need to get some things straight.”

“I’ve got as much time as it takes,” he replied, oozing with a renewed zeal.

“If we’re going to keep this up, there are two rules we need to agree on. If you can’t deal, I’ll understand.” Richard shrugged and nodded that he was up to hearing her stipulations. “One, don’t ever come to my house without calling first. I need my privacy, even when I’m alone. Next, do not allow your married life to set foot into mine. I’ll get back to you on the remedies, if it becomes an issue.” She made sure he was still on board before continuing. “Now, I’ll tell you what to expect from me. I won’t ask too many questions about what doesn’t concern me. I will never talk to you about your wife unless needs be because I won’t carry another woman’s baggage. That ain’t my way. I’ll cook for you, care for you, and create a comfortable environment for you to lay your head. And if you’re interested, I’ll provide some of the things you probably can’t get anywhere else and feel good about it.” Richard raised his hand slightly, to get Dior’s attention. He wanted her to elaborate on the last item but didn’t want to wreck her flow.