Allure of the Vixen (13 page)

Her head was still resting on my chest, but I
doubted she was relaxed, because my heart was beating hard, and I was almost
out of breath. Still, we were as close as we were in that moment as when we had
been fucking.

I saw the two of us in the mirror behind the closet
door, caught between primal lust and some kind of love, our bodies a sinuous
blend, a special connection.

This would be the time for her to say something
enduring, maybe even romantic. Not
I love you,
Joanne wouldn’t say that
to me, I could never hope for that. But something else, maybe:
You’ll always
be special to me, You’ll always be part of me.

Joanne saw me staring off to the side, and looked
over at our reflection.  She didn’t disappoint me. “Damn you. You messed up my
hair.”

It went on like that for three more months.
Me always swearing I’d end it, never able to, every one of my trysts with
Joanne the same, yet amazingly different. So wild and free, yet still with the
same rules; always during the week, no oral sex. She never stayed over.

I wondered how it would end, would I managed to cut
it off before I got sucked in even deeper, or would she tire of me? I had
already abandoned any other women, I hadn’t even bothered with a date since I
had taken up again with Joanne. Anyone else would have paled in comparison,
even with the limits Joanne placed on our sex.

The decision was made for me, in a way I hadn’t
expected. One day I was called into the President’s office. Our company was
opening a west coast location, and he offered me the opportunity to go head it
up. I think I might have been getting a shot as much because I was single than
for my skills, but it didn’t matter, it was an offering not to be taken
lightly. And I always wanted to run my own part of the company. The powers that
be were basically telling me I had been chosen for even bigger things.

I had a lot of friends in the city, but I had friends
everywhere, courtesy of travel and business school pals who had dispersed
around the country. I’d have to sell my house and apartment, but was told the
HR people would help take care of that. I didn’t have anything here that
couldn’t be duplicated just about anywhere else.

Except, of course, Joanne.

While still listening to my boss talk about the
move, I was considering asking for time to think about it, to go to Joanne, ask
her to leave her husband, to come with me. Wondering if that was what I really
wanted.

And in a flash of insight, I realized it didn’t
matter. She wouldn’t do it. And even trying to get her to, just the asking,
would be disrespectful to her. She’d said she loved her husband. If I asked her
to go with me, it would be like saying I didn’t trust her judgment.

Did I want a woman who would leave her husband, even
for me?

Someone once told me not to try to make a good thing
perfect. What Joanne and I had shared was more than a good thing, it was a
great thing. Why poison it now?

The move might be a blessing in disguise. Neither
one of us would have to broach the subject of our end. Although I’m sure Joanne
had a lot of experience with that.

I told my boss I was looking forward to the next
stage in my career.

Everything moved fast after that. Within
two months both my apartment and house were under contract. I’d been out to the
west coast twice, finding a temporary place to stay, negotiating office space.

In between trips I was back in the city. It had been
hard to schedule time with Joanne. We’d finally connected, as usual at lunch at
my place, our sex fast yet comfortable. After, lying on the bed, Joanne’s head
on my chest, tracing circles on me with her elegant fingers, relishing the few
minutes before we both had to go back to the office.

“When were you going to tell me?” she asked.

I didn’t bother to deny anything. “I just couldn’t
think of the right time or way. You heard, I assume?”

“Everybody has. I was mad at you, thinking you had
told everyone but me.”

“It wasn’t like that. They haven’t even announced it
yet, and I haven’t talked about it.”

“I know. I found that out.”

I didn’t bother to ask her how. “I guess this solves
our problem.”

Joanne looked up at me, her eyes deep pools of
mystery, an abyss of promise. “I didn’t know we had a problem.”

“No, I guess we don’t.” I ran my fingers through her
hair. “How long would you have let it go on? Us?”

She smiled. “Who said it was up to me? Or just up to
me?”

So far, everything had been up to her. Except for
ending it, I could have done that. I didn’t answer her.

Joanne propped herself up on her elbow, her face so
close. “How about you? How long would you have let it go on?”

Forever. That’s what I wanted to tell her. What most
women would have wanted to hear. And maybe I would have meant it. But it would
have broken my promise to myself, to respect her decision, to not put her in an
awkward position

 And for me, I wasn’t sure I wanted an answer to
that same question, about how long she would have let it go on.

Joanne waited, maybe even expecting a real answer.
One last glimmer of hope, that she was waiting for me to ask her to take her
away. Or maybe she was seeing what kind of man I really was, whether I loved
more than just her body, just the sex.

“I want something,” I said.

“We don’t have much time.”

“Not that. Well, always that. But something else.
Before I leave, for good, I want to spend one night with you. One entire night.
I don’t want to have this rushed feeling, the clock ticking. I want to wake up
with you. Just once.” I looked into her eyes, we were so close I couldn’t focus
on the rest of her face, even if I could free myself from her gaze.

She waited a long time to reply, so long that I
thought I’d ruined everything, with this one little request. Everything would
end on a sour note.

She leaned forward and gave me a gentle kiss on the
cheek. “No, that’s not too much to ask. I’d like that.” Her lips travelled to
my ear, her voice a whisper of desire. “I’ve never done that. I’ll have to work
it out, and I can’t promise. But I think it will be good for us.”

What she really meant was,
A good way to end.

It took almost a month to set up. I was
back and forth to the west coast, and on the few nights I was back, Joanne
begged off. She swore it wasn’t because she wasn’t going to do it, the timing just
wasn’t right.

I didn’t know whether she hadn’t told her husband,
or was trying to convince him. Or deciding herself.

I let it go, for the most part. I was so tired from
the coast to coast travel and redeyes, I wouldn’t have had the energy to do a
night with Joanne justice. And mentally, I had started to move on. I wondered
if she was already looking for my replacement, her next virile lover.

I gave Joanne my schedule for the upcoming month,
telling her beyond that I might not be in town for a long while. Thinking that
was it; if she had another lover by then, would she break her rule of sleeping
with me as well? I wasn’t going to ask her again. She knew what I wanted.

I had a new apartment on the west coast, and most of
my things were moved. My place in the city was sold.

Then came the message.
Can you do the 26
^th
?

That wasn’t one of the days I was planning to be on
the east coast, but I did have some flexibility in my schedule. I wrote back.
I
can make it work. I’ll make a reservation.

She responded.
Not the hotel. I’ll set that up.
My treat, a surprise.

Now
that
was something new.

And what a surprise it was. When Joanne
texted me the hotel information a few days later, I was stunned to find out she
had booked one of the best hotels in the city, a place even my very liberal
expense account didn’t cover. I’d been to the hotel before, for dinners, but
had never stayed.

I arrived in town in the afternoon, having taken a
morning flight instead of a redeye, giving up a day of work for this. If I
hadn’t I wouldn’t have been able to concentrate on work at the office anyway,
especially on little sleep, so I did what I could on the plane.

I landed in the very late afternoon and went
directly to the hotel, where Joanne had promised a room key would be waiting.
It was. I’d stayed in more hotels than I could remember, for hundreds of
nights, but this was the first time one had been paid for me by a woman. I felt
a little odd picking up the key, wondering what the desk clerk was thinking.
Maybe this happened all the time, a wife leaving a key for a man who was
presumably her husband. The clerk, a dark European guy, was efficient and
polite, his tone giving me no indication of what might be on his mind. With the
key he handed me a small envelope.

It was a bit of a head rush, though. A woman renting
a fancy room for me. I wondered if she was paying for it. Or if her husband was.

The room was large, plush. A nice red bottle of wine
on the credenza, an iced bucket of sparkling water.

A king sized bed.

I dropped my bag on the bed, thought about it, and
moved it to the closet. There was a closed door across from the large bathroom,
I thought it might be a suite, but the door was locked, probably leading to an
adjoining room, or a living room if the room were being rented as a business
suite.

I sat on the bed and opened the envelope. All it
said was
7 pm.

I realized I didn’t know what Joanne’s handwriting
looked like. For some reason I found that both funny and sad. How could you
have all the sex that we’d had and not know someone’s handwriting? Joanne
probably didn’t know mine either.

I had a few hours. I unpacked and headed back out. I
knew I had to get something to eat, because I there’d be no time for food
later.

Back in the hotel, I took a shower. I was
uncharacteristically nervous, not like me at all, as I waited, listlessly
flipping through the tv channels. Finally I shut it off and just sat, clearing
my mind. I’d never had an experience like this before, knowing with certainty I
was going to be with a woman for the last time. It was a very odd feeling.

When I heard the keycard in the lock I took one last
look at the lavish room, wanting to set it in my memory.

To say that Joanne looked beautiful didn’t do
justice to the word. Her hair was up, her eyes glittering, poised and elegant
and sensual all at the same time, a look I’d rarely seen anyone pull off, and
no one did it as naturally as Joanne. All were part of her very DNA, not
feigned or practiced. Just what and who she was.

Joanne took three steps into the room and stopped, a
small smile on her lips. She was wearing a slim black dress, not so little as
to be slutty, yet one that showed a lot of her legs, a lot of her upper chest
and toned arms. A dress that clung to her body like a tight knit stocking,
following every curve, an invitation for a man to run his hand along it.

I had stood as the door opened, and for a long
moment, or maybe more, we just took each other in.

“I appear to be a bit underdressed,” I said. I was
wearing a nice pair of slacks and a dress shirt, but I think even if I had been
in my tux I would have still felt the same way.

“There are two ways of fixing that,” Joanne said,
her eyes dancing. “And only one of them would require you to change.” She
looked around the room. “Do you like it?”

“I do, but even more now that you are here.”

Joanne set her bag on the credenza. “Our last time
together, and now you start to flatter me?”

There. She had said it. Our last time together. Probably
for the best, getting it out of the way.

I crossed the room and opened the wine. If we had
been in my apartment, we’d already have been naked. We had the whole night, and
I wanted this to be different. I think she did too.

I handed her a glass of wine.

“To new beginnings,” I said. Making it clear to her
that I had heard her message, and I was okay with it. A part of me wondered if
she’d also take that as my acceptance of her new lover, the one who would
replace me. Something I didn’t really accept at all. If she were mine, I’d
fight like anything to keep another man away from her.

But she wasn’t mine. I could take her, I always
could have taken her, even in ways she said she didn’t want to be taken, but
that wouldn’t have made her mine.

Joanne hesitated just a bit, her eyes softening,
maybe just a hint of regret. “To new experiences,” she said, and clinked my
glass.

“Are we going to do something new?” I asked.

Joanne took a sip of wine and indicated the room.
“This. Unless you do this a lot? Married woman arranging a hotel room for you
to meet?”

“I’d never do this for anyone but you,” I said.

“Never say never.”

“You’re right. I’ve said never before. About married
women. And here we are.”

Joanne set down her glass. “Yes. Now, about me being
overdressed. Can you please take care of that for me?”

I took a nice hit on the wine, it was quite good,
someone knew their wine. I wondered if she had ordered it. Or maybe her
husband. Just as I wondered if he had chosen what she was wearing. But tonight,
I didn’t really want to talk about all that.

For tonight, it would be just the two of us, me and
Joanne, no husband, no other lovers.

I set down my wine and gathered her in my arms. Our
kiss was slow and deep, not the rush of pent up desire, but the slow ignition
of a controlled blaze. Yet even with that, there was an intensity, our
intensity, one that had existed from the first moment we had touched.

I pulled away, just wanting to look at her. I moved
a single strand of hair from her eyes, tucking it behind her ear, I didn’t want
anything to keep me from their depths.