Designs On Daphne (7 page)

10

  The late day sun was setting over Lake Austin when Rodric let himself into the apartment. Fully alert, he walked through the large rooms. Inhaling deeply, he tried to catch the last of Daphne’s perfume. She’d spent time in the kitchen, he could see that.

  Moving around the boxes stamped Williams-Sonoma, he picked up window treatment boards and cabinet hardware samples, giving them a once over. He didn’t care about window treatments, not really. He’d give his input, feigning more interest than he felt to assure Daphne her time had been well spent, but he’d let her choose them. Whatever she liked most would feel like home to him, he was certain about it.

   The things Caroline had selected never felt quite right, he realized now. He’d been bitter about it after they’d decided to divorce, but he felt much better now. He and Caroline had enjoyed an amicable conversation since Daphne had arrived in Austin. It was a relief to be forgiven for the hurt they’d caused one another.

  Since last evening, his desire for Miz Daphne had continued to rage. He was so inflamed that smack in the middle of a dictation he’d given Francine just after lunch, he’d paused, blushing. The labyrinthine array of case law he’d been about to cite deserted him. Francine’s hands had stilled at her keyboard. She waited, but even then, darn it, he couldn’t get his mind off Daphne!

  Just as he’d been about to quote a particularly brilliant aspect of a Court of Appeals ruling on tax code in Key Energy Services vs. Shelby County, his mind had taken an erotic field trip. Roaming over Miz Daphne’s blue bosom, then down to her thighs, it had even wandered up under the skirt where he’d been dying to slip his hands last night.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her panties, or how delicious her breasts felt poking his chest, when he’d pulled her off the floor last night.

  Francine waited, eyebrows raised.

  His face burnt with embarrassment.

  Finally, he’d had to ask pert, pretty, smart as a whip Francine to recite back what he’d just dictated. Never in his law career, no matter how tired or distracted he’d been, had he lost his train of thought this way. . . Not for anything, and certainly not for a woman!

  Taking a few days to work from home once he moved in sounded better and better. He’d much prefer to be distracted by Miz Daphne in the flesh, he thought, staring out the tall windows of his new master bedroom. He’d never felt this way about any woman.

  In college, when any of his friends had gone crazy over a women, he’d scoffed, preferring his own methodical, pleasant getting-to-know you pace. He’d always been cerebral Rodric, level-headed, pragmatic Rodric.

  He was a bull in rut for the first time in his life. It was amazing, actually. Primal. Fully aroused, he inhaled what was left of her pretty floral scent. It was time to move their relationship into the physical realm. But though he was obsessed by a need to claim her, he’d have Miz Daphne on his terms, and no other way.He could hear Ty warning him to wait, wait until he had Miz Daphne to himself for a few days.

  But how could he continue to disappoint her the way he had the previous night, denying her his touch, his kiss?

  But what if after he kissed her, she chastised him, or worse yet, lost interest?

  Testing the king-sized mattress only inflamed him further. He couldn’t stop thinking of the many ways he wanted to take Daphne right there, in the bed he hoped would be their marriage bed. He had to kiss her, to touch her. He was growing mad with it.

   Wandering into the master bath, he turned on the shower. He’d need a cold shower in a minute or two. The door from the closet into the little one’s room was ajar, he noticed. Immediately, his sense of Daphne increased. Entering the smallest bedroom, he inhaled roses and lavender, the scent of his beloved.

  She’d spent a good amount of time in this room today, he was certain of it.   Maybe she’d even sat and rocked in the hickory chair where he hoped she’d nurse their infant!   Tipping the rocker, watching it sway, his heart  swelled with emotion, with a profound desire for the life he wanted with Daphne, as her husband and father to their children. Humbled, deeply grateful for a chance at previously unimagined happiness, he felt the truest, most blessed fortune a man could dream of.

  He fought an almost overwhelming urge to rush to his mother’s apartment, kiss Miz Daphne’s delectable toes, work his way up her legs, crush her beneath him, have her all night long and all the next day, too.

  It was too much, to remain in this nursery.

  He moved to his study. The blue light from the monitor beamed in the darkening room, so he clicked the mouse. A  stunning picture of newly smooth-haired Miz Daphne filled the screen.

 
Posted on the Swap.com site, darn it. What is she doing there? What nonsense is she up to?

  “Mizz Cristal”

  Likes:
Champagne

  Dislikes:
Anything Furry

  For Fun:
What do you have in mind?

  How to contain the damage“Mizz Cristal” might do? Well, he’d just become “Pump jack 70”, he reasoned. Using the image of a handlebar-mustached cowboy he found in clip art, he quickly posting a profile.

  Likes:
good Scotch, the stick shift of my sports car, my hands wrapped on a Tiger Woods Pro driver, the back nine at Falconhead, two-stepping to Heybale at the Broken Spoke, handmade Italian loafers, an aged steak.

 
Dislikes:
anyone fake or snooty.

  For Fun:
showing a lovely lady a good time.

  Within moments, he’d found “Mizz Cristal” online, likely on the laptop he’d set up at his mother’s apartment before she’d moved in, darn it!
Well, this might be fun.

  -
PmpJck: “I’ll sip scotch and you can drink champagne. We’ll motor to the Palace Versailles, and take in the show at the Moulin Rouge.”
He could almost hear her giggling.
“S’il vous plait, allez-vous venir avec moi?”

  -MzzChrstl:“That’s the best offer I’ve had all night. When do we leave?”

  - PmpJck:“Before winter, since you don’t like furry things. Otherwise, you’ll have to wear your new mink coat. I have a feeling you’ll look fantastic in your new mink coat.”

  -MzzChrstl: “Hmmm. Not sure. Furry things make me sneeze. You seem to enjoy holding big things in your hands. . .What else do you like to do with them?”

  -PmpJck: “My hands like showing a lady a good time.”

  -MzzChrstl: “Oooo, and how do they do that, exactly?”

  Immersed as he was in pleasuring Mizz Cristal electronically, Rodric forgot the cold shower he’d left running. He spent the next two hours making Mizz Cristal beg for more and enjoying himself while she purred with contentment. After an interlude of chat, the conversation turned back to flirtatious arousal, and they’d go at it again.

  Finally, at ten-thirty, Mizz Cristal insisted she was ready to curl into bed, thank you very much.

  That was fine, tomorrow evening he’d see her in person for dinner. She’d suggested they shop Saturday for his tableware, and he’d hem and haw and stretch any decision until Sunday, waiting until just before the stores closed to take up as much of her time as he could, he knew that now.

  They’d have dinner both nights, if he could swing it. He planned to find more ways to take up her time, so no other man could angle in. She’d spend her remaining spare time on Swap with Pump jack 70, he’d see to that as well.

 
-PmpJck: “Shall we do this again? When?”

  -
MzzChrstl: “Yes, lets ;-) Saturday night, 10:30?”

  -PmpJck: “I’ll be here.”

  It wasn’t until he’d logged off and shut down the monitor that he realized he hadn’t eaten.  Drugged by a pleasant sense of accomplishment, certain now that he and Miz Daphne were compatible in every way, certain now that he could pleasure and fully satisfy her, he turned the shower to warm, took his clothes off,  and jumped in.

  Smiling broadly, his stomach felt hungry but the rest of him felt satisfied. Very, very satisfied. At least, he was as fully satisfied as he could be without actually plunging into Miz Daphne’s naked flesh.

  As he soaped up, he was more certain than ever how absolutely well- suited they were for one another. Tonight, he’d only begun to realize the potential for the physical side of their relationship via cyberspace. He’d taken Miz Daphne places she’d never dreamed of, she’d texted, thanking him quite profusely. She’d done as well for him, too; her imagination far exceeded her excellent design skills, he’d been pleased to discover.

   She certainly did have a way with words, Miz Daphne did.

*******

  Memorizing what she could remember of the Swap.com profile, Daphne hurried towards the coffee shop near the campus of UT.

  As “Mizz Cristal”, she was enjoying a lovely and very satisfying exchange with a hottie named “Pump jack 70”, but that was online only. Exchanges with him were exciting, very satisfying, and not at all messy; she’d indulged in far more sexual adventure with Pump jack than she’d ever dreamed of with anyone. Though he was a stranger, they’d shared some of the most intimate, passionate moments of her life.

  
Too bad “Pumpjack 70” isn’t a date for Rodric’s party!

 
She sighed. Pumpjack was adventurous, but such a gentleman, too-they seemed remarkably compatible! But he seemed disinclined to meet, and that was probably just as well.

  He might be married.

  A man that creative would have to be.

  Daphne pushed the door open, scanning the noisy, open room without much enthusiasm. The floor was concrete and stained. In the corner, a tray clattered, making the din worse. She wished she was meeting the man whose profile she’d chosen in a nicer place, but this was what he’d suggested. . .
Rodric would never expect me to meet him in a place like this!

 
She shoved the thought from her head. She’d started this mission exactly five days ago. After setting up a profile on Rodric’s computer, she’d found three dates. The last two, squeezed in between tableware shopping with Rodric,  had been duds; she still might need a prospect for the party, and she was counting on Ned.

  Ned seemed intelligent. He taught political science. He was in his early forties, and he had a cat. To her left, a chubby hand rose above a booth. As she moved down the row,  a balding head emerged, attached to a scruffy beard.  
Where the heck is Ned?

   Below the beard, a belly protruded from a oft-washed blue oxford cloth shirt. “Danielle!”

  He rose; the belly got stuck on the table; some of it puffed above, but most of it hung below. The jacket he wore was tweed, a very inexpensive, ill-fitting tweed, with fake elbow patches. The stitching on them was loose, so the patches gaped away from the sleeve.There were spots on the tie, too. And the shirt was wrinkly. Her name wasn’t Danielle, but she didn’t bother to correct him.
Ew.This one’s the worst of the lot!

  “Ned?” she asked faintly, stepping backward as he clasped her hand in both of his. With great enthusiasm, he shook it vigorously.

   His eyes closed and he hovered closer, coming towards her. Pursed lips protruded from the scruffy beard.
No! No kiss-ick! 
Thankfully, his belly caught on the table. His eyes opened wide; they were red-rimmed, like those of a tremulous hound. Flopping back into the booth, belly now freed, he motioned towards a cluster of coffee carafes. “I’m just grading papers. The coffee’s over there,” he mumbled.

   Flopping the flap of his jacket aside, he reached into the front pocket of saggy khaki trousers and took out some change. As he counted the coins he’d spilled on the table, she had time to observe his torn, grimy fingernails. “Here, seventy-five cents. You wanna go grab a coffee, and then we can talk?”

  She couldn’t take her eyes from the fingernails. “Do you change your oil every ten thousand miles, or do you stretch it to fifteen?” she asked faintly, unable to avoid his face forever.

  Lips spread over tobacco-stained teeth. “Work a mechanic’s job on the weekends. I’m a TA. Just six more semesters until I finish my master’s. The wife was never supportive, of course, and we lost the house in the divorce. She hits me hard for child support, so. .  ”. At the look on Daphne’s face, he asked, “Whattsa matter, you don’t want coffee?”

  “Oh, of course! I’ll just go get some.” Motioning towards the carafes, she back-pedaled quickly, searching for an out. Just then, a bunch of students came in a rear door and lined up at the snack bar cafeteria-style.

  Eyes honing in on the back door, Daphne slipped in front of the spotty coffee counter, scattered with discarded stirrers and empty sugar packets. Then she ducked and skirted along the passageway behind the booths, racing out the rear door  and into the sunshine.

   She took deep breaths of fresh air. It was such a pretty morning, so nice and warm outside! Who had time to waste in a silly, dirty coffee shop? She was a professional, after all, and really, she was very busy; she had lots of work to do for Rodric. Last night, he confirmed he’d be moving in on Friday; the bedroom furniture was being delivered today, maybe at that very moment!

  He’d need some lovely new things for that big bed of his; she’d already made a list: sheets and pillows of varying firmness. A nice, fluffy mattress pad. Some throw pillows and a long bolster. Light cotton blankets and a cushy down giant comforter for when the air conditioning was too cold.

  She couldn’t help but sigh.

  Of all the things she was looking forward to in that apartment,
as a professional,
seeing the master bedroom arranged in the splendor she anticipated was going to be her greatest accomplishment to date.

  Spotting a cab, she lifted her hand. Neiman Marcus was just a few blocks away, and they had a fantastic bedding selection. She and Rodric had such a lovely time there the past weekend, selecting his everyday plate ware and cutlery. She’d suggested at least eight place settings for the kitchen nook, for entertaining.

  He’d been interested in her opinions, so especially appreciative of her expertise, listening carefully as she explained that the round dining table could be set for six, or, if he were throwing a casual dinner party for eight, four could sit on stools at the granite counter, and four or six at the table.

  Nodding as she’d explained everything, he’d then ordered a dozen place settings, and two dozen of every piece of glassware! He wanted to be sure every guest at his housewarming party would have a cocktail and a glass or two of wine, he’d said.

  She’d been absolutely thrilled.

  The man did love to splurge.

  But the best thing was what happened next, as the saleslady wrote up the order. Lowering his lips to her ear, Rodric mentioned that he really only need one set of plate ware for the time being. Then he put his arm behind her. “You certainly are a very special woman, Miz Daphne.”  Nestled against him as she heard those words, she’d felt another little thrill, right down to her toes!

  The look he’d given her wasn’t ‘significant’ exactly, but it did assure her that he didn’t have any one particularly in mind for the time being.

   Anyone else, that is.

   Daphne felt real hope, thinking back to that little scene. Perhaps Rodric was ready to acknowledge that his perfect girlfriend had already appeared . . But then why hadn’t he kissed her, darn it?

   Well, at least she could count on having Rodric’s company all to herself. A pesky girlfriend would only distract from their lovely professional friendship, he had to see that. Besides, she didn’t want to take orders from anyone other than Rodric.

  Because, really, Rodric didn’t give orders. He always wanted to know what Daphne thought. She truly enjoyed that he considered her opinion so carefully, so often agreeing that she felt like she was working
with
him, not
for
him.

  There was still a lot of apartment to furnish and decorate, Rodric had said, standing close at the Neiman Marcus counter. “We’re making real progress here, you and I. I’m counting on you to stay and help me at least through December, Miz Daphne.”

  Then he’d gazed at her with such affection, his cheeks nicely shaven with just a hint of his expensive cologne, there was no way she could refuse him.

  “I do have to visit Hobble Creek once in awhile to check on Daisy and Hank, of course,” she’d replied, “But couldn’t you just come along with me, to visit Ty?”

  “Why, certainly, I could,” he’d replied. “I’ll take you out to Hobble Creek whenever you have the urge to be there, darlin’.”