The Other Woman (5 page)

“You gonna tell me your dream?” he asked as we inched our way through peak-hour traffic.

After summoning a blush, I looked at him through a curtain of lashes, a telling smile on my face. “Not
today,
but soon.”

He looked ahead, nodded, then looked at me again.

I held his gaze and indulged in some playful batting of my mascaraed eyelashes.

He chuckled. “You’re messing with my head, you know that?”

Emboldened by my progress, and in a daring move, I reached out and patted his thigh. “Soon, Bradley Murdoch.”

He eyes flew to my hand before they returned to my face, his smile dipping for a moment.

My hand stayed, a defiant look in my eyes.
I’m inches away from stroking you, mister.

For a few moments we drove in gravid silence, his thigh feeling taut, muscular, and warm under my hand. Lucky Rival, I thought sourly, she gets to have those thighs wrapped around her.

Eventually, I casually but reluctantly removed my hand.

“I have a question,” I said, propelling things along.

He glanced at me before his eyes went back to the road. “What?”

“You’re successful, intelligent, educated – got the wife, the house, the kids…yet…”

He looked at me, eyebrows raised.

“…you seem like…I dunno, I could be wrong, but…” I exhaled loudly and looked out of the window.

“Whaaat?”

I looked at him. “Permission to speak frankly?”

A guarded look appeared on his handsome face. Anybody would be spooked by that question.

“Permission…gran…ted.”

“You look like…I mean, like, there’s something
missing
in you.”

“Missing?”

“Your eyes…” I turned my whole body to face him. “You look
swamped
with responsibility, Bradley.”

“I’m not.”

After shaking my head several times, I said, “I get the feeling that under that suit, there’s a mischievous boy dying to have some fun.”

“Really?” His shoulders lifted and dropped. “I …never…thought about that.
It
. Like…that. I mean—”

“If I’m out of line…” I place a hand on my breasts. “I apologize. It’s just that, you’re pretty easy to talk to, and I suspect there’s so much more to Bradley Murdoch.” I threw out my hands in mock exasperation. “You know what, I’m not saying this right. Like…I mean, it’s all coming out wrong, but—”

‘No, no, no! It’s okay. I get what you’re saying. And thanks for the compliment; you’re easy to talk to as well.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Go on, say what’s on your mind.”

“Okay, well…at the dinner party at your house, you seemed…out of place, and I felt a little bad for you.”

“Bad for me?”

I nodded. “Like it was all too much for you to handle and…and then and there, I felt like you were a man with a boulder on your shoulders. Then there was the errand boy—”

“
Errand
boy?”

“Bradley get this, Bradley do that, Bradley fetch this…a whole lot of ordering around.”

“Eh, Um…” He shrugged. “One could argue that one works as a team…”

“In my opinion, my rather
humble
one at that, you seemed like a man dying to break free and bust loose. This bus you’re on…it’s running so fast, you’re aren’t getting time to be you. Well, that’s what I’m seeing. Deducing.”

Bradley didn’t answer, he just stared ahead, and suddenly it became really quiet around us.

Leaving Bradley to marinate in the dish of discontentment I had served, I looked ahead. However, out of the corner of my eye, I noted the change in Bradley’s demeanor. Slowly his smile disappeared, his lips fused, his mouth turned downward, and his jaw squared.

My seeds of discontentment had been successfully sowed; it was just a matter of time before they bore delicious fruit.

Bradley’s reaction was textbook – first the man grows quiet as he ponders my remarks, then he gets defensive and even a tad angry, not really at me, but at the realization that I may be right after all. Thereafter, their rumination is usually followed by some serious rebelling, and that’s where I come in – I’m waiting with open arms for them. And thighs.

Cognizant of the damage I had done, I remained silent and allowed Bradley much-needed quiet time to reflect and engage in a bout of mini soul-searching.

I had to admit, I wasn’t confident of the outcome. Unlike most of my other targets, I really wanted Bradley, wanted to marry him and live happily ever after, so the possibility of rejection was daunting.

As we drove home, my mouth became dry, my palms sweaty, and I fought the urge to ruin a shellac manicure with my teeth.

We pulled up outside my apartment complex.

“About that drink…” Bradley shook his head, to my dismay. “Raincheck?”

Fuck, I blew it.

I tried to be cool. “Eh…well…”

Just then his phone rang. He stared at the screen for a few moments.

“It’s Rival,” he said in a beseeching voice. “D’ya mind?”

Oh fuck, now he’s definitely going home!

I shook my head and followed it with a dismissive wave.

“Hey, babe!” he said.

Now he’s going to tell her that we had lunch for the
second
time, and that he drove me home, and that’s going to fuck up all my plans.

“Yep…yep…okay…got it…bread, milk, paper towels, Huggies Pull-Ups, got it.” He looked at me, and our eyes locked.

“I’ll get it
all
, Rival, but I’ll be home a bit late,” he said, his voice measured and a tad defiant, his eyes fixed on mine.

I held my breath – he hadn’t mentioned me or the lunch, and…he said he was going to be home
late
! Hope ignited once again inside of me.

“Love you, too,” he said and ended the call. For a moment or two he stared at the phone in his hand, a pensive look on his face. When he looked at me, he said, “About that drink…”

I held my breath. “Yeah…?”

He turned the key, switched off the Mercedes, and jerked the keys out of the ignition. “Let’s have it.”

I exhaled. Those seeds of discontentment I had scattered? They had just sprouted.

Hold your applause, please!

Random Seduction Tip: Unpredictable

Keep them keen and disorientated by blowing hot one minute and cold the next. This adds to the intrigue and to the promise of an exhilarating ride. Your mark should never know what to expect from you. The moment you’re predictable, the moment they know what comes next, you have handed them the reins of power, something you never want to do.

****

“Tell me more,” Bradley said as he entered my apartment. His abrupt voice hinted that he may be a little angry at Rival.

“No,” I said as I made my way to my liquor cabinet.

His head jerked to look at me, his eyebrows raised. “No?”

I shrugged. “I’ve said far too much, and I worry my truths may seriously disaffect you.”

“
Disaffect
me? That’s not true.”

I poured him a double Johnny Walker Blue and a single for me, even though I don’t drink whisky. My aim was to enjoy what he enjoyed, to mimic his mood and let him believe we were on the same wavelength. (Later on he’d say to friends, "
We have so much in common. It’s really refreshing to find a woman who enjoys the same things as I do.")
Kindred
spirits
.

His eyes shifted to the bottle on the table, then at the glass being proffered, surprise written all over his face.

At the dinner at his place, we drank a few bottles of red and white wine, but I took note of the bottle of Johnny Walker Blue Label on his bar.

“If I have to guess, I’d say you’re a Blue Label kinda guy.”

“You’d be right about that,” he said, accepting the drink from my hand, his hand brushing lightly against mine. His touch felt nice, in spite of it being light and fleeting.

As he drank, his eyes travelled slowly over my body, pausing briefly at my breasts, and again at my bare thighs. I didn’t mind. He could look all he wanted. He could even touch. In fact, I would have liked him to touch.

Under his scrutiny, I leaned against a table and slowly crossed my legs. “Had a good look?”

His chuckle was mirthless. “Are you coming on to me, Scarlett?”

My gasp was audible, and my jaw dropped in mock horror. That was me blowing hot and cold.

“Well, I mean, like…” His face turned beet and he shifted in is shoes. “I mean…um…I’m sorry for …”

“Did I try to
kiss
you?” I purred, my eyes fixed to his mouth.

He shook his head.

“Did I try to…
touch
you?” My eyes dropped briefly to his groin.

“No!” He quickly downed his drink and loosened his tie.

I sashayed over to him and took his empty glass from him. Under his watchful eye, I poured him another double and held it out to him.

He reached for it. I pulled it back.

“Did I say I wanted to pull a Monica Lewinsky on you anytime soon?” I asked as I held out his drink again.

He didn’t answer, didn’t take the drink, he just stared at me, a befuddled look on his face.

With a smile, I placed the drink in his hand, then placed my hand on his arm. “Relax, Bradley,” I cooed as I ran my hand very slowly up and down his arm. “I don’t want you like that. I just find you
really
fascinating, that’s all. Hell, I even dream about you.” I pinched his arm. “The day you dream about me, I want to know.”

“W…why?”

I stepped into his personal space and looked up at him, my breasts almost touching his chest. “It’ll change everything,” I whispered.

His breathing turned rapid and again, he downed his whisky. “You trying to mind fuck me, Scarlett?”

I lifted and dropped my shoulders. “Nobody can
fuck
your mind, unless it’s ready to be fucked.” I cocked my head and smiled at him. “Is it?”

He stared at me for a few moments as if he was thinking about it. Then he looked at his empty glass, placed it on the table, and started walking out of my apartment.

I let him.

At the door, he stopped, turned, and looked at me one last time before he hurried off.

He was a man fighting temptation. Allow me to educate you about temptation: it is the strongest and most worthy opponent ever. It is not human, so it doesn’t bleed in the arena. It never falters, never tires, has unparalleled grit and unrivaled stamina.

Every one of its opponent tires eventually, and when they do, they surrender whole-heartedly to temptation.

That day, I was temptation personified. I waited impatiently for him to weaken and throw in the towel so I could declare a knockout.

****

Friday night passed without any contact from him. Maybe tomorrow?

But Saturday came and went and I heard nothing. Sunday passed and I grew anxious.

Was I losing my touch? Had to admit, I was a tad nervous. Never before had a man stayed away that long. Had I underestimated my opponent and overestimated myself?

But my fears were unfounded. At 9 p.m. on Sunday, my doorbell rang. Even before I looked at my security camera, I instantly knew it was Bradley.

I took my time before I opened the door. He stood at the door and stared at me, his eyes glazing as he took in my short red silk robe, which parted to reveal my bronzed breasts and my tanned thighs.

“I dreamt about you,” he said in a thick, tortured voice.

With a coy smile I leaned against the door and looked at him. “How was I?”

“Fucking amazing.”

My eyebrows rose. “And how were you?” I asked, reaching out and taking his hand.

He pulled away his hand. “Have to go,” he muttered as he backed away from my door.

Again, I let him go, confident of my impending win. Think about it; the guy drove for more than twenty minutes to get to me on a Sunday at 9 p.m. to tell me he had dreamt about me. He could have texted or called me on the phone, but he chose to tell me
personally
. What does that tell you?

****

The following Friday night, I was at Bradley’s house having drinks with Rival when Bradley returned from work.

“H…hi,” he said when he saw me perched on a barstool at his kitchen counter, his eyes scudding.

“Oh, hi, Bradley,” I said sweetly, my hands on my lap.

I hadn’t seen or heard from him since the last time he showed up at my door to tell me he had dreamt of me.

“Hey, honey!” Rival said.

I watched Bradley walk up to Rival, kiss her somewhere between her nose and her lips, and take a giant step back. Rival then turned and opened the fridge. Without looking at me, Bradley removed his tie and threw it on a couch, then he helped himself to a drink. He drank fast, then poured himself a second drink.

My eyes were fixed on Rival, who was chopping cheese into little squares and rambling on about something. “Because it’s so small, I couldn’t see it, and it ruined all the whites. That tiny bit of red turned
everything
in the wash pink!” She shook her head. “One tiny little Barbie Christmas hat can be so destructive. Imagine that.”

“Oh, no, that’s awful!” I cried, glancing at Bradley, who was looking at me, taking in my long, slim-fitting black skirt, my white polo neck that left little to the imagination even though it covered every bit of my breasts, and my black and silver ankle boots.

I had deliberately dressed for the evening to provide him the opportunity to compare his wife and me physically. It was time for him to do so.

Next to Rival’s grey sweat pants, white singlet, and grey hoodie, we were chalk and Gruyere.

When his eyes met mine, I winked at him.
Chill!
He quickly averted his eyes.

“Well, I guess I have to add some bleach to the next load to fix things,” Rival droned and held up the platter of assorted cheese to Bradley. “How are you darling?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Okay,” he muttered, and declined the cheese.

“You look flustered,” she said, cocking her head to look at him. “You okay?”

I held my breath.

“I’m okay, just tired,” he muttered. “Where’s the—”

Before he could finish, his two girls ran up to him. He hugged them both and kissed their heads. “You guys been good today?” he asked.

I smiled to myself. A family man – how cute.

“Hey, sweetie, Scarlett needs some olives,” Rival said. “Can you be a honey and please get a bottle of them?”

Bradley’s eyes darted to me, then back to Rival. “Sure. Green or black?”

“Blue,” I said.

“
Blue
?” they chorused, both of them looking at me.

“I didn’t know they had blue olives,” Rival said.

“Yes, they do,” I explained. “They’re sweeter, and just make your cocktails taste so much nicer. And they make your drink look really lovely too.”

“Okay,” Bradley said and grabbed his car keys from the table.

“But they’re hard to find,” I quickly added. “You have to look in the Asian aisles.”

Bradley cocked his head and looked at me. “The
Asian
aisles?”

“Wait, I’ll go with you,” I said, jumping off my barstool and grabbing my purse. “You drive, and I’ll run inside the store.”

Bradley froze, his eyes on Rival.

“If you don’t find it at Woolworths, try the Asian store in David Street,” Rival said. “Parking might be hard to find, so you can double park while Scarlett runs in.”

Bradley’s shoulders relaxed.

“While you guys do that, I’ll grab a quick shower,” Rival said.

Bradley and I are going to be in the car, alone, in the dark, after he had dreamt of me.

The most delicious shudder ran through me.

****

We got into Bradley’s Merc and drove in silence to Woolworths, the air between us heavy with anticipation. Yet, he did not try to kiss me, did not try to feel me up, and he failed to nag me about my dream. At the store, I ignored the olive aisle and with Bradley following closely behind, walked straight into the cold room.

“What’s in here?” he asked, eyeing the mountains of beer.

I turned to look at him, a mischievous smile on my face. “You and me. All by our lonesome selves in this dark…isolated…room.”

He stared at me as I inched closer to him, shifting my hips against his, one hand gripping his waist firmly, the other reaching for his face and bringing it down to mine.

He did not resist, nor did he pull away. I slid my tongue into his half-opened mouth and kissed him, and when I heard his muffled groan, I kissed harder.

With a low growl, he wrapped his arms around me and jerked me closer. Aware that we had limited time, I moved swiftly. As I sucked his lips and probed his mouth with my tongue, my hands roamed his back, his chest, his groin, and lingered between his thighs. Each time I touched a new spot, he groaned into my mouth and sucked harder on my tongue.

It made me feel powerful, in control, and I felt that Bradley’s absolute and irrefutable surrender was imminent.

Voices outside the cold-room door caused him to jerk away from me. “Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, taking my hand and leading me out of the cold room. Quickly, we grabbed the jar of black olives (blue olives don’t exist), paid for it, and raced back to his Mercedes.

In the dimly lit car-park, I opened the back door. Bradley stared at me, a hesitant look on his face. I jerked my head toward the back seat.

After appearing to think about it, he shut the front door and got into the back seat with me.

We looked at each other in the dark.

“W…what?” he choked.

I swung into action. Right away I hitched up my skirt and straddled him.

“Christ, Scarlett!” he muttered. “What are we doing?”

“Your dream,” I said between deep kisses, “my dream…make it real.”

Pulling up my top and pulling down my lacy white bra, I presented two perfects breasts to him. After a moment’s hesitation, he sucked greedily at them, groaning as he did.

I smiled as his erection burgeoned under me, forcing me to rub my crotch against his hard-on.

“Scarlett…oh, Scarlett…I’ve never done this before. Christ!”

Every time a car passed or he heard voices, he tried to pull me off him, but I stayed tight and firm and rode him like a mechanical bull, my black panties serving as no barrier between his erection and my wetness.

“Chill!” I whispered and continued dry humping him.

“This is just crazy,” he whispered, his hands firmly on my hips, holding me down and grinding me against him.

“Take it off,” I said motioning at his pants.

A nervous gleam appeared in his eyes. “Someone can see …”