“I’m almost sure of it,” she smiled sexily. “Until then...”
She held out one hand for him to shake. As he took it, he felt something hard in his palm.
He watched her as she wandered off with her friends.
Then he looked down at the hotel key-card in his hand. The number 310 was written on it.
...macho macho man...
He grinned.
In the ladies’ lounge Jennifer reached for a tissue on the marble vanity and blew her nose. The bathroom was empty; everyone else was enjoying the prime rib dinner. She wasn’t hungry.
She looked at herself in the mirror and hated what she saw: a desperate middle-aged woman helplessly in love with a married man.
With a sob, she turned away from herself. She felt like a drug addict — only the drug she was addicted to wasn’t crack or cocaine, it was Rick. And even though her mind warned, “Just say no,” her heart refused to listen...
She had been in love with him since high school, but he’d been a jock and she a bookworm, and he never noticed her. But at the ten year reunion, that all changed; he swept her off her feet — and onto her back — after she’d dumped her date, and he’d ditched his wife. And Jennifer had been hooked ever since.
Now five years later, her life was a mess. She didn’t date. She had no friends — they had long ago tired of hearing her woes — and energy that should have gone into advancing her career went instead into the stagnant affair.
If she only had the strength to give him up! Yet, the thought of not seeing Rick — however sporadic and brief — threw her into a panic...
The lounge door opened and that blonde, Hilda, entered — the one she had seen Rick flirting with earlier. Jennifer couldn’t believe Hilda would even speak to Rick after what he’d done to her so many years ago...
Hilda saw Jennifer and a small friendly smile formed.
“Well, hi, Jen,” she said.
“Hilda,” Jennifer replied coolly, pretending to fix her hair in the mirror. How she envied this woman, who seemed so happy and in control of her life.
Hilda walked over to the vanity and with a sigh of relief, kicked off her high heels. Then she dumped the contents of her gold purse on to the counter, picked out the lipstick, and applied the blood-red color to her lips.
“Don’t tell me you’re still carrying the torch for that creep,” Hilda said.
Jennifer turned away from the mirror; she didn’t feel like discussing her situation with anyone, let alone some classmate she barely knew from high school.
She started to leave, but Hilda stepped back into her way.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Hilda said, her voice soft and reasoning, “but he’s never going to leave Heather and marry you. Why should he? He’s having his cake and eating it, too. You’ve got to face it.”
Jennifer felt her face grow hot. “You’re right, you know,” she said. “You’re absolutely right.”
Hilda nodded smugly.
“It is none of your business!”
And she pushed past her.
“I’m glad my cousin Lenny isn’t here to see you now,” Hilda said behind her, almost contemptuously. “He thought you were the only smart, decent person in high school. I guess he was wrong.”
Jennifer, her back to Hilda, hand on the door, hesitated. “I guess he was...” she said softly.
But instead of leaving, Jennifer looked over her shoulder. “I didn’t know Lenny was your cousin.”
“Not many people did, even though we were in the same grade together. We didn’t have the same last name.”
Jennifer walked back toward Hilda. She thought there was a faint resemblance. “Tell me, how is Lenny?”
“Dead.”
The way Hilda said it, so casually, so flippantly, made Jennifer feel like she’d been slapped; if she hadn’t been immediately filled with sadness and memories of Lenny, she would have verbally lashed out at the woman.
But instead, Jennifer said, “I’m sorry... and I’m sorry he didn’t have a better life; he was even more lost and miserable than I was in high school. But he was a good friend.” Then she asked, “How... how did he die?”
“He killed himself.”
Jennifer looked down at the floor, then back at Hilda. “I guess I’m not surprised,” she said slowly. “But now I’ll always wonder... if he and I had stayed in touch... friends listen to friends, you know...”
“They should.”
Jennifer waited while Hilda gathered up the contents of her purse on the counter, and put on her shoes.
They left the lounge and walked back down the corridor toward the ballroom.
As they passed the vacant table in the hallway, Jennifer said archly, “I heard Heather went home to change her dress.”
Hilda smiled. “It wasn’t too hard to find out what she’d be wearing tonight,” she replied, opening the ballroom door. “After all, she’d told everybody in town.”
...bad girls...
Bathed in the moonlight, Hilda stood nude by the open window in a room on the third floor of the hotel. One floor below, she could see her classmates, through the domed glass ceiling of the ballroom, still eating.
Muted music floated up to her.
...more than a woman...
There was a knock at the door.
She moved to the bed and slipped under the soft white sheets.
“Come in!” she called.
The door opened, then closed, and Rick stood at the foot of the bed.
“We don’t have much time,” he whispered conspiratorially, unbuttoning his shirt. “My wife will be looking for me.”
Hilda stuck out her lower lip, pretending to pout. “Too bad,” she said. “I guess I’ll just have to settle for what I can get.”
Quickly, Rick removed the rest of his clothing; they lay in a heap on the floor.
“Come and get it, big boy...” Hilda purred, patting a place next to herself on the bed.
...you’re the one that I want...
Grinning like a kid Christmas morning, Rick climbed under the sheets, and pulled her roughly to him.
“What a bitchin’ babe!” he said, his breath an unpleasant cocktail of cigarettes and booze.
He kissed her.
What a lousy lover, she thought.
He pulled back and peered in her face. “Look,” he said, “I do remember you, now. And I hope you’re not mad about that little joke... back in high school.”
“Little joke?”
“You know... me pretending to invite you to the senior prom, and all.”
“And all?”
She sat up in the bed, letting the sheet slide down to expose her firm, round breasts. She leaned toward him.
“Now why should I be mad?” she said, running one long red fingernail down his cheek. “It was just a harmless prank... and I think a person should be able to handle a harmless prank, don’t you?”
He started to say something, but there was a loud pounding at the door.
“Hilda!” a male voice hollered. “Are you in there? Open the door!”
“Oh, my God!” she whispered frantically. “It’s my husband!”
Rick jumped out of the bed. “You didn’t tell me you were married!” he whispered back, seeming more annoyed than frightened.
She shrugged. “You didn’t ask... besides, you’re married.”
Quickly she got out of the bed, snatched a red silk robe off a nearby chair, and put it on. “You’ve got to hide!” she said. “The last man Butch caught me with landed up in the hospital for six months!”
“Butch?” he said. “Oh, great! Wonderful! And just where am I supposed to hide in this dinky room?”