Page 41 of Wicked Player
“So it was understood that I was married, and that he would keep coming in to chat regardless. I never told him I was happily married, because I really wasn’t. Every month, heartbreak filled our home you see, every time we realized we weren’t expecting a little one.”
I study her face as she tells me her story. She seems so sad, reliving that time in her life.
“Now it’s one thing to be facing infertility… many couples do,” she goes on. “But it’s quite another when your husband does not support you and even blames you. I’d never felt so hopeless.”
I shake my head, not understanding as I glance at the photos on her walls, photos of her kids and grandkids. Perhaps they adopted.
“Everett used to bring me flowers,” she smiles. “Red roses. He was quite the romantic… or so I thought.”
“He wasn’t?” I ask, confused.
“Turns out we both enjoyed films and books, and we chatted endlessly about those subjects. I had so much more in common with him than I ever did with Caleb who was a workaholic and always home late. We seemed destined… Everett and I.”
“So you dumped Caleb, and married Everett?” I push, wanting to get to the end of this story. I’ve always been very impatient that way.
She laughs. “Oh no… it just wasn’t that easy back then, Clara. Women didn’t just get divorced at the first sign of trouble.”
“So what happened?”
“We got closer… Everett and I. And one day he suggested we go catch a film at the Starlight—”
“He did not,” I say, cutting her off. “That’s kind of naughty.” Everyone knows what the drive-in is for. Even back in those days I’m sure.
She closes her eyes, lost in her memories again. When she opens them again, a mischievous smile brightens her face. “You won’t believe what we went to see.”
I sit up straighter. “What? What did you see?”
She stares at her hands when she says, “Lolita.”
“Lolita,” I say. “Isn’t that the Stanley Kubrick film about a guy who hooks up with a super young girl?”
She sways her head slowly, as if not quite believing what’s she’s saying. “The very one.”
“Was it good?”
A wicked smile traces her lips again. “It was excellent but…”
“But what?”
“Let’s just say it was hard to concentrate on the film.”
I set down my cup of tea. This is getting good, and it requires all my attention. “Because he was all over you, wasn’t he?”
She laughs again, a sweet giddy giggle. “He sure was.”
“Oh, Judy… who knew you were such a bad girl.”
“Well, we didn’t quite go all the way… as you young kids would say.”
“How far did you go?” I ask, completely shameless. I walked right past shame a while ago when she uttered the name Lolita.
“He started by lightly stroking my thigh, teasing me.” She’s staring at the floor, probably not wanting to make eye contact as she tells me the juicy details. She glances toward the kitchen. Christian is completely oblivious, engrossed in his organizing.
“I loved the way he touched me. His touch was electric,” she continues. “I’d never felt anything like it.”
I nod because I know. That’s exactly what Colton’s touch was like.
She blushes a little. “I hiked up the skirt of my dress for him.”
