Chapter 3
He was gone. Some time during the night while she was reliving her pleasures, the man with the perfect body had gotten dressed and walked out of her life. She found the note he had written and left on the kitchen table. "A deal is a deal. That's all it was, nothing more, nothing less." It was printed very neatly on the bottom of her shopping list. He was gone all right, she thought, but she'd never forget one single detail of what happened.
After reading the note twice, and then throwing it in the garbage, she took the roll of film from the kettle on the stove and threw it into the garbage, too. Back in the bedroom the clock showed 9:00 AM. One look out the window at the smog, Carol flopped back on the bed and slept.
She was enjoying her walk through Central Park with the hot sun burning down from above, even though the air was still highly polluted. Every muscle in her body ached, but it was a good hurt, not a bad one.
Never could she remember feeling this fantastic. A wide ear to ear smile covered her face without any outward sign of leaving. To New Yorkers, smiling people were strange-something was wrong with them. As she walked by first an old lady, then a young mother with a baby carriage and lastly a middle aged Wall Street type, those "stay away from me" glances flashed across their eyes like .daggers as they turned, continuing on their way.
What did she care. She was happy for the first time in years ... so "fuck the world", she heard herself mumbling out loud. "Fuck it in the ear." She stopped and chuckled. In the ear ... never tried it!
After finding the note she went back to sleep. She woke up three hours later, took a shower, wrapped herself in a towel that tucked under arms and across her breasts and sat down to a hot steaming cup of coffee and a piece of buttered toast with grape jelly.
It was now two-ish and she sat down on the base of the fountain, behind the outdoor music shell, eating a hot dog and drinking a can of Doctor Pepper. She watched the ducks land and take off, only to circle the park a few times and land again in the cool stream-fed lake fifty feet away across the stone plaza, to the north.
Suddenly, without warning, two open hands shot in from both sides of her field of vision covering her eyes. Carol gasped as a chill ran down the base of her spine.
Dropping her half empty can of soda, she tore out pulling at the powerful hands that wouldn't budge. Automatically, out of instinct, she drove her long pointed nails into the hairy flesh on the back of his hands.
"Shit," a man's tormented voice screamed out in obvious pain. "Can't you take a fuckin' joke."
His hands jerked away letting in a blast of white sunlight that forced her to squint and shield her eyes with an open hand. Recognizing first the voice and then the face after swinging around, she smiled and broke into a wild, hysterical laugh.
"Next time, watch where you put your hands, OK."
"Next time ... next time, I'll put my hands in your hot pants and then I'll know for sure you won't want me to ever take them away."
"When did you become the comedian?"
'Just about the time you jabbed those deadly weapons into my source of livelihood)", he said under his breath, licking his wounds, not quite seeing all the humor in the whole thing.
She watched him sucking on. one of the punctures that had a speck of blood sitting in between the hairs. She couldn't stop laughing. Trying to catch her breath,-she tripped over his 8-speed English Racing bike laying on its side, where he had left it before he started his fruitless attack.
Catching her footing, she stared at Paul for the first time since his mock attack fell apart. Paul Bryant was the kind of man she always dug and the only man she had ever known she could honestly see herself marrying. One trouble though-a small one-he was already married, three daughters to boot,. and of course, a wife.
Full of personality, 6 feet 2 inches, red hair, bedroom blue eyes that sent a chill down her back, and a faceful of freckles, and a CPA to cap it off. Paul Bryant was in Carol's own words, one hell of a HUNK. Without batting an eye, she'd jump into the sack with him, but only if he made the first move. She was no home wrecker. Playing the other woman was not her bag. She'd never break up a home, but grabbing for the loose pieces after everything was gone, was quite another story.
Again breaking into a smile from ear to ear, Carol stretched out her right hand as to show, "no hard feelings." Hoping to play the hurt, misunderstood ,role to the hilt, he hesitated just on principle.
"If you don't mind me asking, what are you doing out here by yourself attacking helpless, defenseless women? Where are Jill and the kids?"
"Maine, visiting her folks. I had hoped to join them for the vacation, but some unexpected work came up."
Butterflies tickled her stomach. Wondering whether she should or shouldn't, she finally did after a few seconds of deliberation. "How long are they going to be gone?," asking in a matter-of-fact tone, making sure she wasn't looking him in the eyes.
"Two weeks."
Fourteen days. Paul didn't see the smile Carol buried behind her face. "Oh yah, Jill did mention something about it when we met in the elevator." Jill didn't care for Carol, for obvious reasons. So it was doubtful they had ever spoken more than two or three words, at the outside, to each other.
Okey dokey, she thought Maybe, just maybe, if you play your cards right, he can be had. But how to find out the card game he was dealing was her next question. He answered that question for her much sooner than she had expected.
"How about dinner tonight?"
"Huh," she responded, not having anything better come to mind.
"Didn't realize I affected your hearing when I covered your eyes. Let's have dinner together. Know this very nice place." He cocked his head to the side, a questioning expression flashing in his eyes. Oh, those eyes! "Don't you like to eat three squares a day? Oh, or is it you think I'm really a wolf in sheeps clothing. You'll have to find that out for yourself."
Hell, why not. She nodded her head, topped off with a why-not half smile.
"Great. Fantastic. Pick you up at what?-Seven?" He paused and waited for her nod. She smiled. He smiled back and said, "Got to pick up some clothes at the Dry Cleaners over on Eighth Avenue. See you at seven."
In a flash he. sprinted over to the bike. He picked it up and accelerating to a quick run, leaped onto the slim, narrow seat and peddled off, turning around once to wave.
"Hi, Oh Silver away," she caught him screaming off in the distance as he swung around the bicycle path as it curved down by the bridge.
She remembered she had promised herself a wild weekend to make up for a shitty week's vacation and now everything was falling into place. Tonight, oh tonight, things were really going to fit together very tightly. She could feel it between her legs, deep in her powdered cunt hair. She could tell by the way they tingled.