“Mr. Dean, you finally made it,” the woman said in a deep, raspy voice. “I hope you weren’t having second thoughts?”
“Not hardly.”
As he stepped up to the counter, the woman’s appearance startled him. Her thin red hair was matted to the top of her balding head with some sort of gel or glue, and her eyes were caked so thick with black mascara she looked like a raccoon. Her fire-engine red lipstick looked like it had been applied in the dark while driving down a bumpy road. He tried not to stare.
“Well, you certainly did cut it close. Aren’t you getting married next week?”
“Yeah, next Saturday.”
“She sure is a lucky woman.” She laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“I just realized what I said. “Cut it close…get it? Cut…
it
.” Her painted-on, hairless eyebrows rose to the middle of her wide forehead.
“Yeah, I get it,” he faked a smile.
Man
,
this
woman
is
creepy
.
“I promise I’ll be careful and hopefully, I won’t…‘cut
it
, too close’.” She laughed again, but this time with an added snort.
He faked another smile as he signed the roster.
“Dr. Stickler will be with you in a moment, but you can come on back, and I’ll get you prepped.”
“You?”
“Don’t worry, I haven’t cut one off yet,” she chuckled, “but there’s always a first time for everything.” She rolled her eyes. “Just kidding.”
The woman struggled to lift her large body from the chair, releasing a couple of hacking coughs and a few other sounds he couldn’t identify. Sweat beaded on her forehead. He cringed at the thought of her touching him.
“Follow me,” she said.
“You are a nurse, aren’t you?” he asked, glancing down at her name tag. The letters R and N were engraved below a small caduceus: a winged staff with two snakes wrapped around it. Her name: Rosie Bonner.
“Yep, I sure am…certified, registered and good to go…snip, snip.” Pretending her fingers were scissors, she cut through the air. Another scare ran through his mind when he saw her fingernails.
“What happened to Sara?” He’d expected Stickler’s personal nurse, Sara, to be the one doing the “prepping.” Sara was a hot-looking blond in her early thirties. Dr. Stickler had given him the option of shaving himself at home or letting them do it for him, once he arrived at the office. After seeing Sara, he’d opted for the full-service treatment—something he now regretted.
“Sara took the day off. I only work part-time for Dr. Stickler. I’m pretty much retired.” She glanced over at him as she hobbled down the narrow hallway to the exam room. “I’m also single.” A smile spread across her round face. “My name is Rosie.”
There was nothing he could say.
“About all I do now is prep for the vasectomies. I’m the best.” Rosie smiled big, baring her yellowed teeth. The foul stench of her tobacco breath drifted up his nose.
“Here’s your exam room.” She handed him what looked like a small disposable tablecloth with sleeves. “Once you undress, put this on. I’ll be back in a minute.” She left and pulled the door closed.
The thin backless gown was little more than a paper rag. After undressing, he slipped it on and attempted to tie the back closed but decided to let it just hang on his shoulders. He took a seat on the edge of the exam table.
The sound of a hacking cough announced the return of the redhead. “Don’t you look cute,” she said. “You can go ahead and lie down on the table, prop your feet up, and spread your legs, good and wide, so I can get at everything.” She looked his way and shot him a smile.
I
must
be
crazy
.
She walked over to the sink, washed her hands, snapping on a pair of thin rubber gloves. Then she plopped down on a small stainless-steel stool and rolled over beneath the tent formed by the gown draped over his spread legs, putting her eye level with his manhood.
Flat on his back, the sight of Rosie was hidden by the gown. He stared at the ceiling and tuned in on the buzz of a bad ballast in a fluorescent light fixture, hoping to drown out the wheezing.
“Here we go,” she said. “Be
real
still.”
He flinched at the sound of a pop and buzz as she fired-up the barber-style hair clippers. He only hoped she wouldn’t have one of her coughing spells while she was working.
In less than ten minutes, the buzz of the clippers stopped. “There we go, all done.”
She rolled back on the stool, stretched the gloves from her hands and tossed them in a stainless steel trash can by the sink.
“Everything looks good. Let me get the doctor.” She left the room and closed the door.
Dr. Stickler was all business, and the procedure only took about twenty minutes using a local anesthetic. Stickler told him the anesthetic would last for about an hour, long enough for him to stop by a local pharmacy, pick up his pain relievers, and drive home.
Keri would be arriving late tonight from her trip and leaving early tomorrow morning for Atlanta, so he shouldn’t have any trouble hiding it from her.
In about four to six weeks, he would return to Dr. Stickler for a follow-up visit to ensure his semen was sperm free. Until then, he’d need to continue using a condom since the birth control pill gave Keri headaches. In a couple of months, he would finally be able to enjoy sex without using protection and without the worry of Keri becoming pregnant. She would just have to deal with it.
CHAPTER 41
Keri knew that inviting Ryan to her dad’s empty Upper East Side condo might not be the best idea, but her life was about to change, forever. This would be the last time she would be with him, alone. Not that she planned to do anything wrong, she just hated to see the day end.
While a part of her screamed-out to do as Ryan suggested—take the food and go have a picnic in the park—another part of her screamed louder to invite him to the condo.
“I was just thinking…we could grab a cab and head over to my dad’s condo. It’s not far from here, and I know you’ve always wanted to see it.”
“Does he mind?”
“Not at all, he even gave me a key,” she said. “He hardly ever uses the place, except for business. Most of the time it just sits empty.”
“In that case, yeah, I’d love to see it.”
They walked out of the deli onto 59th Street, hailed a cab, and after sliding into the backseat, Keri leaned up and told the driver the address. She then slipped back next to Ryan as the yellow cab sped away.
As they continued north on Park Avenue into the depths of the prestigious Upper East Side, her mind raced ahead. She played-out what it would be like to be totally alone with Ryan. She only wished the circumstances were different.
* * *
Ryan remembered Keri mentioning her dad’s place in New York, back when they dated in high school. He always wished he could see it.
On layovers, he had taken many long walks in the Upper East Side area, but he never was exactly sure where it was located.
The area from 59th street to 96th street, between Central Park and the East River was noted for having some of the most luxurious and expensive residences in the world. It was a place where New York’s rich are shrouded behind thick walls, guarded by uniformed-doormen with ermine collars; where children go to elite private schools, and the subway stations even seem cleaner.
As chronicled by Tom Wolfe in his novel,
Bonfire
of
the
Vanities
, it is an area touting a “who’s who” list of retail stores, art galleries, museums, restaurants, and expensive boutiques: Tiffany, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci, Christie’s, Sotheby’s, the Guggenheim, and FAO Schwartz. He had heard it even surpassed the Ginza in Tokyo as the most expensive retail area in the world.
The cost of being a part of this world was staggering, and Keri’s dad had a place in the middle of it all; the ultimate in opulence. He couldn’t wait to finally see it.
Keri leaned up and pointed, telling the cabdriver where to pull over. Ryan couldn’t help stealing a look at the curves of her figure; his eyes rapidly scanning from top to bottom, while his thoughts danced with infatuation.
Don’t
even
think
about
it
.
You’re
married
.
As the cab changed lanes and headed toward the curb, Ryan’s mind changed gears. No longer was he thinking about the condo, but about Keri and being alone with her. He wondered if she felt the same way. He brushed the thought away, rationalizing that women think differently than men. Perhaps his initial excitement to see the condo had masked a deeper desire to be alone with her.
We’ll
go
have
lunch
,
I’ll
take
a
quick
look
at
the
place
,
and
then
we’ll
leave
.
It’s
perfectly
safe
.
They exited the cab.
CHAPTER 42
Back in Dallas, Emily scurried around the house taking care of last minute details. Ryan was due in that night, and he would be leaving early tomorrow morning driving to Atlanta. The two-day drive would put him in Atlanta sometime on Thursday. After spending the rest of the week packing, he and his mother would start the trip back to Texas on Sunday, arriving in Dallas late Monday.
With the sink full of dirty dishes, the bed unmade, and the house a wreck, wearing only her bra and panties, she moved quickly from the bathroom to her dressing closet. She selected a flowing dress with a plunging neckline.
This
ought
to
do
it
.
After slipping into the dress, she checked herself in the mirror and then grabbed three pairs of shoes she knew would work with the dress. She needed to hurry. She could decide later which pair to wear.
After one last look around the bedroom, she rushed downstairs to the kitchen, rummaged through a drawer for a pen.
Where
is
a
pen
when
you
need
one
?
A second drawer produced the pen. She took the notepad by the phone and began to write:
Ryan
,
I
know
the
house
is
a
wreck
….
CHAPTER 43
When Keri opened the door, she could tell Ryan was impressed. He walked from the marble-floored foyer into the large and elegantly decorated den. “This is unbelievable,” he said, as he stood taking it all in.
“Would you like something to drink?” Keri asked. She put the sacks of food on the kitchen table and checked the refrigerator for drinks. The state-of-the-art gourmet kitchen opened to the den.
“Water’s fine.”
Keri took two Waterford crystal footed beverage glasses from behind the glassed cabinet doors and filled them with ice and water. She then set the table with colorful place mats, matching cloth napkins, and sterling flatware. Taking Ryan’s grilled chicken sandwich, she heated it slightly in the microwave and transferred it, and her salad, onto elegant bone-china dinner plates. When she had finished, her creative presentation looked like a wonderfully prepared home-cooked meal.
“Lunch is ready,” she said.
Ryan walked into the kitchen, paused and stared at what she had done. “Wow! Where’s the magician?” He looked at Keri. “This doesn’t look like a deli meal to me.”
“I just thought it would be nice if we took advantage of what was here.”
“Well, I’m impressed. When this day began, I never would have guessed I’d be eating a deli sandwich on bone china, drinking from a cut-crystal glass in a multi-million dollar condo on the Upper East Side. The best I was hoping for was my own park bench where I could chomp down my dry bagel.” They both laughed.
“As the old cliché goes, ‘It’s not what you know, it’s who you know,” she said.
The ambiance of their luxurious surroundings and seeing Ryan happy made her forget she was on a layover with the airline. Instead, it was more like a date, or, better yet, a dinner at home.
But when he lifted the glass to his mouth, seeing the gold band on his left ring finger reminded her that he belonged to someone else.
After finishing lunch, she asked, “Would you like for me to give you the grand tour?”
“Sure.”
The condo had a spectacular layout with five bedrooms, superb entertaining spaces, and terraces offering spectacular views of the city. All the baths were top-of-the line with polished nickel fittings, bowed wood cabinets, and marble floors.
After giving him a tour, she stopped at the large window overlooking Park Avenue. Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked.
“Magnificent. So, if you say your father rarely comes here, why doesn’t he sell the place?”
“He uses it for business while he’s in New York.”
“Must be nice.”
“This is only one of the places he owns.”
“Really?”
“He has a place in London, Hawaii, Colorado, and even a place in California.”
“Wow.”
Isolated from the street noise some twenty-five floors below, they continued to stare out the window. Ryan appeared mesmerized by the view. The contrast of the busy city below and the quiet of the apartment made her sense the protected privacy they shared.
Several minutes passed with only the sound of their breathing. Her body tingled with a rush of warmth.
I
wish
this
day
would
never
end
.
Unexpectedly, he slowly turned and looked at her, his eyes looking deep into her soul. Time seemed to stop. With each second, she sensed a battle raging wildly within her, growing in intensity; a battle between mind and emotions—right and wrong.
Her grip on restraint was slipping as the rhythmic gait of her heart was spurred-on with each second of his alluring stare. She knew it was too late. She willfully released all restraint and fell into the void between right and wrong, waiting, willing, and wanting.
She took his hand and brought it up to her face, pressing his warm palm against her cheek. She closed her eyes. She felt his other hand on the opposite side of her face gently push a strand of hair behind her ear. His gentle touch set off a rush of sensations throughout her body. Her smooth flesh tightened as millions of tiny blood vessels and glands throughout her epidermal layering constricted erecting legions of protective goose bumps.