He put her on his bed. She was still fully dressed. And so was he. She covered her face with her hands. Unlike Sheila’s, her nails hadn’t been done professionally; she probably did them herself. Her hands were small and soft. She wouldn’t be able to lift more than ten pounds, he thought to himself. She would break her fingers. He took her cold hands in his. He wanted to warm them up. He lightly touched her stomach. The quiet sound she uttered made the blood rush to his head. She was on the bed, in front of him, so ready, waiting for him with a childlike expression. Like a box of chocolates—he was free to choose any with fillings to his liking.
“Andy, please,” she begged.
“Andy, please pass the salt.” Sheila stretched out her hand.
With immense strength, he pulled himself out of the Hyatt room.
“Your cheeks are red. Is it from the champagne or are you excited?” Sheila was in a playful mood.
“Candy, are you asking me to go on or to stop?”
“Please!” Candy carefully pushed her hand through the opening in his sleeve. He felt her fingers, how they caressed his arm, moved in sync with his muscles. He wanted to embrace her tightly, make her feel safe. She closed her eyes and bit her lip. He pulled down her leggings. Her silky skin was naturally tanned, so smooth, like cream. Suddenly, he wasn’t ready for this adventure; for one, he had no protection on him, and he was sure she didn’t either. It would be ridiculous to leave her here and run downstairs to a hotel shop. Idiot! He should’ve thought about that earlier. But he hadn’t. It all had happened so suddenly. He would have to improvise as they moved along. Maybe they wouldn’t move along. What was he doing standing here? How had he gotten himself in this situation with a woman he knew nothing about? What did he want of her? Was he in his right mind to be comparing this plain girl to his cosmopolitan, refined Sheila?
Unable to find the answers and amazed by his growing thirst, he, half-mechanically and half-curiously, unbuttoned her green shirt. Easy, no need to rush now. In awestruck surprise, he met with her lovely curves, her satiny skin, her youth; she was magnetic, sweet, so inviting. And yet he was constantly comparing. Sheila was so far superior to her. No doubt! Yet the smell of fresh soap mixed with the airy floral perfume Candy wore was intoxicating. Andy wanted to have her. Now! His fingers hurt her. She shrank and looked at him with surprise. He saw a few small wrinkles deepen her forehead.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied. She was gracious, somehow dependable.
She became even more flexible, trustworthy; she seemed to indulge in following every movement of his, holding nothing back. She was unbelievably honest and responded sincerely, gratefully, without hiding her feelings. He was surprised. He was going strong and she silently asked for more. She allowed. As if she had been waiting for this moment forever. She was grateful for everything he was willing to share with her. She was giving him more than she received. More than he’d hoped for.
Andy glanced at Sheila’s steak and then stared at the mussels in front of him. They were hot, steaming. Some of them were wide open, showing their internal nacreous colors. Their delicious, delicate tongue-shaped organs were pink from the light tomato sauce. Andy loved the taste of this fleshy anchor; he would catch the juicy meat with his lips, pull it from the shell, savor it inside his mouth and, after satisfying his taste buds, slowly swallow, together with a mouthful of exquisite wine.
“You’re salivating, honey. Start your dish; I’m almost done with mine.” Sheila openly stared at him, her elbow leaning on the table, her arm nicely curved in support of her chin. He saw how much she enjoyed watching him being unusually mellow, less controlling, almost absentminded, something he was rarely guilty of.
Andy took a spoon and pulled a few shells apart. Soaked in thick sauce, like half-opened lips, the mussels were waiting patiently for him to taste them. The pearly hinged halves had a thin, aromatic red film over them; the best way to have this dish was to start by carefully dabbing the valves with soft, warm dough. He found a pit on the ventral surface; this was where a viscous secretion exuded to form elastic threads.
Sheila saw something new in his face. This entire evening she was guessing without much success. But she didn’t mind. “I love you.” She smiled and lowered her gaze intimately.
“I love you,” Candy said earnestly.
“What did you say?”
“I love you.” Her eyes were closed.
Slowly, he was coming out of a trance. “Don’t say those words ever again. I have a beautiful wife I love.”
“I’m sorry. It was totally inappropriate.” She raised herself from the pillow and sat straight up in bed, as if he’d splashed ice water over her face. She took a deep breath. “It’s pretty late. Let me go so both of us can get some rest before tomorrow.”
“Good idea.”
She went to the bathroom. She was trying to be quiet, but he could hear she was in a hurry. In a few minutes she was completely ready.
“OK, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She was about to leave when he said, “Candy. I want to have a word with you. Just for a minute.”
She didn’t answer but stood by the door in her light black coat, the hood down, her gloves on. She was wearing high heels and he thought it would be difficult walking like that in the snow.
“How far are you going? Would you like me to call a taxi?”
“Very kind of you, thank you. I’ll call for Uber. It’ll be faster.”
“Look, I didn’t mean to be so harsh. I can’t get into a relationship, especially not with someone from work. It was a mistake on my part.”
“It was my mistake. I’m sorry.”
“I love my wife; I’m a very happy man. I couldn’t ask for more. God spoiled me.”
“That’s a very sincere confession.” She smiled. “Believe me, I understand! I’m sorry. It will never happen again, I promise.”
It was dark in the room. Light was coming from the hallway where she stood. She wouldn’t be able to see him with his back to the balcony, but he saw the lit hallway and the woman standing by the door. Her cheerful voice filled him with pain. She was smiling, but he suspected she wanted to cry. He couldn’t read her well; oddly, she looked apologetic.
“OK, then. I’ll see you tomorrow at the conference.”
“Yes. Good night.” She froze for a brief moment, as if she wanted to say something else. But she didn’t.
He had a sleepless night. He wanted to take a Tylenol for his intolerable headache, but the hotel shop was closed. In the morning, he was afraid of seeing her. She was late for the first session and then he was told she was ill and wouldn’t be coming in at all. He felt relieved. It would be awkward seeing her now. He couldn’t concentrate the entire day. He messed up his presentation and was happy to skip the last part of the conference to leave for the airport. There, he changed his flight and went home earlier than planned. The next day was Valentine’s.
He saw Candy’s image on the way home from the restaurant. His palms were sweaty, acutely aware of the rapid, tremor-like sensation coming in waves when he thought of Candy; he hadn’t been prepared for it. But he would be; he wouldn’t allow it in the future. But how much he wanted her now! Oh, how much!
“I’ll change into my new lingerie and be back in a moment. Don’t fall asleep.”
He took off his tie, his cuff links. Suddenly, he was angry at Candy for messing up his Valentine’s Day. He loved this holiday; he’d been looking forward to spending it with Sheila. And now he hadn’t enjoyed it at all.
His wife came out of the bathroom in the new set he’d given her that morning. She wore Obsession. She had a stunning figure. She was sure of herself. He put her on their bed. She looked at him and then touched his legs and he closed his eyes. He’d never done it in the past. Now he did because he was afraid of himself. He imagined different hands touching him, ever so delicately, so lovingly. He wanted to hear her voice. He wanted to hop on a plane and go to Washington.
Sheila accepted his advances with pleasure. He was aggressive again, but with another woman. He touched Sheila but saw Candy’s big brown eyes. At the very end, he vaguely remembered how the waiter at the table behind Candy had opened a thick-walled bottle of champagne. Andy had watched him holding the neck and carefully removing the wire protector. She was startled when the pressure, built up inside the bottle, made the cork pop. A strong stream of semisweet, foamy liquid filled two thin, tall glasses. He was done.
Sheila was long asleep, but not Andy. He was lying in bed next to her with his eyes wide open. On Monday, he thought, he would call Candy. He’d been rude. He must apologize. He would fix everything. Now he felt better. He was thinking about her and smiling. He closed his eyes. Yes, he would call her on Monday. He heard her voice, so pleasant, sexy. When he scolded her, her eyes went dark with utter embarrassment and disappointment. He’d hurt her twice in the same night. She hadn’t blamed him, hadn’t said a word but simply walked away, disappeared. If only she was next to him now, he would… He fell asleep thinking of what he would do with her if she were lying in bed next to him.
—
Adel’s stories are inspired by events she has witnessed and people she’s encountered. With vivid descriptions, Adel captures the complex and often contradicting inner worlds of her characters. Traveling well beyond the surface and into their depths, Adel reveals the surging pulse hidden within ordinary lives. Intense, multidimensional relationships pull and provoke the most delicate areas of humanity, giving us a refreshing taste of life’s true flavors.
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