His Sugar Baby(6)
Michael was pleased. Nothing bored him more than to be deluged with someone else’s drama and baggage. And here was a woman who didn’t want to discuss her past or want to know anything about him. She’s perfect. But six years celibate? He wondered about that. Perhaps she was so passionless that she had little interest in sex. He rejected that at once. Over dinner, when she had mentioned expenses, she had exhibited controlled anger. She had expressed interest and amusement during their conversation. Her laughter had been genuine. Those were not the emotions of a cold, dispassionate woman. Given her history of celibacy, however, he certainly would not expect her to jump eagerly into his bed. At least, not initially. No, she would have to be seduced and wooed. The enticement of the money had brought her to him that evening, but he doubted it would be enough to hold her, to make her open her arms and welcome him with abandon.
She posed a challenge. That appealed to him, stirring to life an anticipation that he had not felt in a very long time. He would enjoy taking her out to concerts and to dinner and all the rest of it. Judging from her conversation, she did not seem to have done much socializing. She probably did not make the income that allowed for such luxuries, he thought. It occurred to him that she probably did not own the necessary wardrobe, either. He looked her over again. Her outfit was conservative, and unless he missed his guess, it was part of a business suit. She dresses like a bank teller. One of the first things he would do, he decided, would be to take her shopping. On the spur of his reflections, he remarked, “You’re not wearing any jewelry.”
Surprised by the non sequitur, Cathy looked up. She paused in spearing up her last shrimp. She felt a momentary pang of regret. The few good pieces of jewelry that she had once owned had been auctioned off with her antique furniture. She met his eyes with frankness. “I haven’t got any jewelry.”
Amusement lit his eyes. The corners of his mouth quirked up. “I’ll remember that.”
His response struck her as odd. Cathy frowned over it, until she realized that he believed that she was hinting. As the heat of color flooded her face, she looked quickly away. There were so many things that could be taken the wrong way, she thought, stricken. She looked at the shrimp impaled on the tines of her fork and sudden nausea struck her. Carefully, she set the fork down on her plate, leaving the shrimp untouched. The dinner that she had enjoyed was suddenly heavy in her stomach. What am I doing here? Her head pounded. She rubbed the tips of her fingers against her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. She tried to think, but her brain felt muddled. She had drunk so much wine. Stupid, stupid!
“Winter? Is there something wrong?”
Cathy quickly dropped her hand. She shook her head. It was a mistake. Her head swam. Momentarily disoriented, she blinked. She finally managed to smile. “I’m fine.” After a sharp glance, Michael appeared satisfied with her assurance. He once more initiated conversation, this time of practical matters having to do with their arrangement. Cathy forced herself to concentrate. She had to remain alert. She had to be rational and business-like. She had to remain aware that she could still walk out. They discussed safe sex, establishing that they were both free of sexually transmitted diseases, and agreed to no drugs. Cathy heard herself volunteering that she was on the pill due to a hormonal imbalance.
Michael merely nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “Good. That will be an additional safeguard against pregnancy.”
It was the most bizarre conversation that she had ever participated in. Intimate, yet impersonal. Cathy attributed her lack of embarrassment to the wine-induced haze that was fogging her mind.
The attentive waiter materialized to whisk away their empty plates and to inquire whether they would care for coffee or dessert. Michael deferred to her with a slight gesture. “Winter?” She declined with a constrained smile. She was wondering what came next and supposed that she would soon find out. Her heart began to pound, every beat resonating in her head.
The waiter left the tab in a discreet holder. Michael glanced at the tab. He took out his wallet and pulled out some bills to put inside the holder. Then he reached back into his wallet and removed a hundred dollar bill. He slid it across the table toward her. She watched him, keeping her face carefully blank.
Taking his fingers off of the bill, he said quietly, “Here is what we agreed upon for this evening. Now you have a decision to make, Winter. I can either see you into a cab that will take you home, or you can come with me to my house. If you change your mind after you come back with me, I will still put you into a cab to send you home tonight. I promise you there will be no hard feelings. But I do want to continue to see you, and it would be a physical relationship.”
Cathy felt herself start to shake, but it wasn’t the kind of trembling that could be seen. Instead, her entire insides were quivering like jelly. So…here it is. The moment of truth.
She stared at the fold-creased hundred-dollar bill. It blurred, and she blinked to bring it back into focus. In her mind’s eye, superimposed over the hundred dollar bill, was the balance in her check register, the bills that were scattered all over the carpet beside her desk, her daughter’s pinched little face. A huge fist squeezed her chest. The familiar crushing sensation made it hard to draw in her breath. She forced her lungs to expand, dragging in some air.
Her mind whirled, racing this way and that. The hundred dollars that she was looking at wouldn’t go far. She was not an idiot. But a lunch with conversation, another dinner at an intimate restaurant, perhaps a bike ride or weekend trip – each time gaining her another hundred. The hundred dollar bill began to multiply, began to make a difference. All she had to do was go back to his home. All she had to do was spread her legs.