Twisted Vows of Seduction (18 page)

“Hi, Ms. Zeola,” Nadine began, oblivious of the woman's last name. “My name is Nadine and I was given your number by my aunt, Mickey Collins.”

Zeola didn't respond right away which started Nadine to worrying. “Mickey? Hmmm…the name…doesn't…really…ring…a…bell.”

Nadine could tell Zeola was cycling through her memory.

“Wait! I do believe I remember her. Yessss!” She started laughing. “We met at a gospel convention I attended a few months ago in Atlanta,” she stated. “I remember her quite well now actually. She's the one that sat on the front row. Ha, ha, ha. She wore a big fancy purple hat that day.”

Nadine laughed softly. “Yes. That would be Aunt Mickey.” All of Georgia should have known and recognized her aunt from a mile away. She had a very eclectic style for fashion and it was all designed and created by Mickey Clothiers, a home-based clothing and accessory boutique that she'd started shortly after her late husband had died. But even before, Aunt Mickey was acknowledged by many as the best seamstress in Atlanta. She was even called if anyone needed extra help.

“Nice woman, your aunt is,” Zeola said.

“Thank you,” Nadine grinned. “I called because I was hoping I could meet with you this evening.”

“For a session?”

Nadine hesitated. She had to remind herself to have an open mind about all of this. Even as wild and extreme as it might have seemed, she believed she would enjoy this.

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Now I must warn you that I don't share my gift with everybody,” Zeola said. “Many believe it's a hoax and therefore do not take my readings seriously.”

Nadine was dead silent. Maybe the woman was trying to read her right now, she thought.

“But…I'm sensing some confusion with you. You're searching for clarity of your life.” Zeola paused. “Is this true, Nadine?”

Nadine blinked her eyes a couple of times and looked around her spacious office. She was obviously all alone, but she felt like the woman was sitting right there in the room with her. A twinge of doubt washed over her, but she couldn't resist the urge to hear what this woman had to say. “Yes,” she replied, hoping Zeola didn't detect her skepticism.

“You're already very interesting, but I look forward to meeting you in person,” Zeola said, just before rattling off her address.

Consumed with jitters, Nadine looked down at the woman's address, then tucked the piece of paper in her purse. She looked forward to the meeting even more now. She thought about the first question she would ask Zeola. Wondered if it made any sense at all to keep entertaining that tiny seed of hope that she and Jeff could rekindle the love they once shared.

Her eyes reverted to the computer screen, although her mind was elsewhere. The more she tried to suppress what was really bothering her, the more she made herself out to be delusional. She grabbed a Kleenex off her credenza and blotted the corners of her eyes.
He deserves to be happy
, she thought. But why wasn't
she
the woman he was marrying? What was so special about this Ménage? Nadine's soul ached for his love and her body longed for his touch. She blotted her eyes again, careful to not ruin her makeup. She still had another client to see. Just as she tossed her tissue in the wastebasket, Belinda walked through the door carrying
a huge bouquet of lavender roses, a gift bag, and a smile as wide as a Cheshire cat.

“Looks like somebody's been holding out on me,” Belinda said, a serious swing in her gait as she carried the large clear vase and bag over to Nadine's desk.

Nadine shot her a perplexed look. “Is this for me?” she asked as Belinda positioned the bag and bouquet directly in front of her.

“Has your name all over it.” Belinda smiled. As she stood there in anticipation, she began chanting, “Open, open, open!”

Nadine stood up and took a seat on the edge of the front of her desk. She pulled out a single rose and sniffed it. “Does it say who they're from?”

Belinda shrugged her shoulders. “I didn't check, but I'm sure he has his name right…in there,” she said anxiously, pointing to the red envelope affixed on top.

Nadine's forehead crinkled as she pulled the envelope off the clip and tore it open.

“Soooo…who do I give these brownie points to?” Belinda inquired.

Nadine began reading the card silently at first. She then read it again for Belinda to hear:

“It's very rare that I find a woman that makes my heart stop with just one glance. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, I haven't been able to get you out of my mind. I have to see you again. If you are available, and I sure as hell pray that you are, please do me the honor and join me for dinner
.”

Belinda smiled and pumped her fists in excitement. “She has a winner!”

“Ha, ha, ha!”

Below the note were the meeting details but no name. “I'm not sure who it's from,” Nadine said. “There's no name.”

“Hmm. Must be somebody very special to not leave his name. Unless…” She raised an arched brow and tilted her head. “You have an admirer.”

Nadine blushed mischievously. “I strongly doubt that,” she said, waving off the thought of it. She peeked inside the bag and pulled out a bottle of red wine.

“You never know,” Belinda said in her pleasantly light voice. She leaned in to inhale the roses once again. “I'm jealous!” She laughed. Nadine laughed along with her. “There seems to be a shortage of good men and judging by this guy's chivalry, I'd go out on a limb and say he might be a keeper.” She stretched her neck out some in an effort to get a glimpse of the name on the bottle. “Definitely worth putting on the books. And if he looks as good as
that
tastes, you've struck gold, baby!”

Nadine fingered the rose as she sifted through her thoughts. Outside of her clients, she couldn't think of one person her gifts could have come from. Not one. She couldn't help but crack a smile as her eyes shot back up at Belinda. “Do you think Mr. McCormick sent it?”

Belinda's eyes practically popped out of their sockets. “Seventy-three-year-old Mr. McCormick?” she asked, frowning as if having to repeat it sounded more worse than the thought.

“Well, he's always felt the need to express to me that he has a thing for beautiful brown women. He's the first person that came to mind.”

Belinda looked as if she had a bad case of bubble guts.

“Maybe it's time I broadened my horizons,” Nadine said.

Belinda looked on unbelievingly at Nadine. “Can somebody say Geritol and Viagra! Ha, ha, ha…”

“Ha, ha, ha! You are so crazy!”

Belinda struggled to catch her breath. “Would you seriously date a white man that old?” she asked.

Nadine stood up and rounded her desk to sit back in the chair. “A white man, yes. An old man, I highly doubt it.”

“Afraid he'll croak on you?”

Nadine gave her a frivolous grin. “I'm more afraid his little blue pill will stop working.” They both burst into an inconspicuous fit of hilarity, but little did Belinda know, Nadine was serious as a heart attack. “Just kidding girl,” she lied dismissingly, realizing how big of an undercover freak it made her sound. The last thing she needed was to be exposing herself.

Belinda's laughter continued as she fanned the tears from her eyes. “You are a trip!” she exclaimed.

Nadine returned a warm smile. While Belinda was only with the firm part-time until Tonya returned from leave, Nadine really enjoyed having her around. She had only been with the company for a couple of months, but the two of them got along like old girlfriends.

“Well, I better get back up front before the phones start going crazy again,” Belinda said, regaining her composure.

“All right. I think I'm going to wrap it up in about another hour or so. I have an appointment outside of the office.”

“Oh, all right. I'll hold all your calls.”

“Thank you.” Nadine smiled, as Belinda turned to leave. She could hear the clacking of her Miu Miu plum suede peep-toe pumps, receding down the corridor. Staring at the bottle, Nadine could almost taste the wine on her tongue. She reflected back on what had taken place the last time she'd had one too many glasses. She permitted her spinning untamed thoughts to escort her down memory lane once again. She missed the smell of Jeff's cologne,
the warm sensual caress of his hands, the glide of his tongue, and the ride of his dick. She was going through withdrawal and with a sex drive as high as hers, her celibacy vow now seemed more like a self-deprecating joke. She had gone a full three weeks to date without engaging in any sexual act whatsoever. Not even the fine art of masturbation. It sure as hell wasn't easy, but she recalled what she had heard someone say:
“It's hard as hell going cold turkey. You have to wean yourself off good dick
.” But the weaning part was still a challenge for Nadine because she didn't know how to detach her feelings from sex. In the beginning she could, but it didn't seem to work the same way anymore.

Nadine flirted with temptation but didn't want to renege on her promise. Although in the back of her horny mind, she couldn't help but think that all it would take is one call to turn things around and put her out of her sexual frustration.

She looked over at her cell phone. Her fingers impatiently tapped at the desk while her pussy remained eagerly on standby. For one night of passion she felt she could look over their petty arguments and disagreements, and maybe even the idea of him being engaged to someone else. That's if it were even true since she had yet to hear it from the horse's mouth. She needed one last time for old time's sake. One last time…for closure.

She picked up the phone and placed the call. She looked back over at the roses and the wine.
Am I really ready to move on
? she asked herself.

The phone rang several times before he finally answered.

“Jeff speaking.”

Nadine took in a short breath. “Good afternoon. I was calling… to…ask you to help me with something,” she began. Just one quick and simple plea for closure and her pussy could be back in
the Kentucky Derby. She searched for the right words, feeling somewhat ashamed for betraying her personal commitment.

“After sitting here thinking, I've come to realize that I need some type of clo—”

Jeff cut her smack off. “What's up, Nadine, because you caught me at a really bad time?” In only a matter of seconds, he killed the little bit of sexual energy she still had left. The contemplation of going back down that road with Jeff had been short-lived as she quickly got a grip on her common sense. She cleared her throat. “I apologize for disturbing you. I wanted to see if you could pick up Canvas from the daycare. I have a late appointment and I don't believe I'll make it in time.”

“Sure. I can do that. I'll go get him and you can pick him up at the house.”

“Great, I'll be there as soon as I'm done. Thank you for doing this at the last minute.”

“You don't have to thank me, Nadine. He's my son,” Jeff said lastly before ending the call with nothing more or less to say.

M
énage lay there for a minute. Her head was throbbing and spinning. She definitely had a hangover. She wondered if it was even possible to get carpal tunnel in the neck; if so, she had that too. She'd never felt so damn bad in her life.

She eased up, careful to not wake Slug.

As she scanned the room, she saw liquor bottles, cigarillos, and a bag of weed sitting on the stand below the wall-mounted flat screen. And it smelled like a concoction of sweaty butt-naked sex, weed, and alcohol, with a hint of her sweet perfume. She began to recall most of what took place last night, causing her throbbing head to pound even more. Ménage slowly climbed out of bed feeling so lightheaded she thought she was going to faint.

Clad in only her birthday suit, she walked around the king-sized bed in search of her heels. She eased into them and staggered toward the bathroom. The liquor hadn't quite worn off so every step was a balancing act.

Spending time with Slug last night felt like old times. Instead of bringing her back to his hotel, he wanted to crash at her spot for the night, but Ménage refused to show him where she lived. There was no way in hell that was going down. She didn't know what new situation he had going on and she wasn't about to put
her life or freedom in jeopardy. So the less he knew, the better off she was.

She returned from the bathroom and walked around to the sink. It wasn't a pretty sight. She had bags under her eyes, no makeup, and her hair was all over the place. She began fixing the pieces of hair that were out of place because even after oversleeping for most of the day, a bad bitch like her had to look good. She washed up and then powdered on some makeup and lipstick.

“Ummm…” Slug moaned.

Ménage looked up in the mirror to see him staring at her.

“I see somebody getting ready for another round,” Slug said as he got up from the bed and headed over to her.

The first thing she pointed to was the huge hickey on the left side of her neck. “You just getting reacquainted with this and you already trying to mark your territory?”

“Damn right. And I'm about to mark it again,” Slug said, pointing to his hard-on. He slapped her on the ass, then headed for the bathroom. After he was all done, he walked back over to her and started kissing her.

He kissed her as if they had never left each other's side. It felt like they were picking up right where they'd left off, but in the back of Ménage's mind, she knew differently. A lot had changed over the years and although Slug was the love of her life, they belonged to two entirely different worlds. She yearned for Slug's touch for so long, and now that he was here, in the flesh, giving her body what it wanted, what it had been missing, she didn't know what to do other than fuck him in memory of lost time.