"A man with vivid fantasies...a woman with blind devotion...consequences neither could envision."
From behind the master bedroom's wall-to-wall front windows, Carin could make out segments of the cobblestone driveway winding into the property through the trees. When she lifted her gaze beyond the farthest visible crescent of cobblestones and last half acre of woods separating the house from the town line, she could see spits of the country road running parallel, but only when scanning far left or high to the right. The best road views came when looking to her extreme left while pressing her right cheek against the cool morning glass, but doing so for long periods proved uncomfortable. Occasionally, she glimpsed cars and trucks on the road—soccer moms' SUVs, tradesmen's pickups and one time, the bright-red blur of a sports car flashing behind the dark hemlocks—but in all the time she stood by the windows, whether close up or a few steps back, looking low or high, left or right, she never saw the vehicle she prayed to see.
Hoping a different vantage point would bring luck, Carin pulled her short robe over her nightie and made her way downstairs, stopping first in the kitchen to make her coffee. As the coffee brewed, she roamed the empty beach house, bypassing the back windows' panoramic water views in favor of glimpses of driveway; and with a first warm cup in her hand she established a new lookout in Justin's office off the front foyer, where driveway views were best.
Justin often spent time in his home office, catching up on business or just gazing out at the kinetic sculpture he'd recently had installed on the island of manicured lawn outside the front door. Carin's focus, however, was on the last stretch of cobblestones coming in from the road and circling the swaying art, more than on the art itself.
For a long while, she sat half-swiveling in Justin's big leather desk chair, nibbling her nails, sipping her coffee and glancing from the grandfather clock in the corner of the room to the vacant driveway. Slowly she realized her luck hadn't changed.
Abandoning the study, she walked through the open foyer, climbed the curving, teakwood staircase, breezed past the mélange of oils and watercolors checkerboarding the walls leading back to the master bedroom, and again found herself at her original spot behind the room's front windows. She scanned the road left and right several more times before pulling herself away and inching toward the bathroom suite.
Over the months, luxuriating in Justin's spacious, marble shower stall had become one of Carin's favorite pastimes, especially after long days spent with her students. After those exhausting days, she would retreat to Justin's house and revitalize under the shower's multiple spigots while preparing for his return from the city. But this morning, with her package due any moment, she was hesitant to leave the windows, much less linger in the shower. Having checked "Signature Not Required" on the website's order form provided little peace of mind.
After a hasty rinse, Carin dried herself with one of Justin's monogrammed bath towels, wrapped her body in another and coiled a third atop her head. She moved from the shower room to the adjacent dressing room and, relying on faith her package would soon arrive, continued with the dress rehearsal she'd planned for that morning. She lined her eyes with great care and combed mascara through her lashes. She dusted rouge into her cheeks and rolled a taste of pink onto her lips. She braided her hair into two girlish pigtails, unwound them and weaved them again, tighter this time. She heard no knock at the front door as she primped, but on her way downstairs for a second cup of coffee she had a premonition and opened the door anyway. Sure enough, the FedEx box was there on the step.
A half hour later, the box lay open at the foot of Justin's bed as Carin modeled her new outfit in front of the dressing room's full-length mirror. She'd been concerned the costume might look cheap or the skirt would be too big around her waist, but was now pleasantly surprised. The red plaid mini was of lightweight cotton as advertised, not stiff polyester as she had feared, and the pull cord hidden in its waistband worked well when cinching the garment around her petite frame. On top, the costume's crisp, white halter fit snugly against her breasts but she deemed it more cute and tarty than trampy. Best of all, when she turned from the mirror and bent forward and grazed her fingertips along the warm, climate-controlled tile floor, she looked back over her shoulder to see the skirt crawl up her stalky legs and expose her new underwear, a private view she knew Justin would appreciate.
Before Justin had left for his business trip, Carin hinted about the schoolgirl costume, hoping images of her awaiting his return prettily gift-wrapped—complete with satin bows of over-the-knee stockings peeking below her mini, the halter's knot tied loosely between her big boobs, and pink ribbons adorning the tips of her tight pigtails—would keep him longing for her while away. And when he returned home and unwrapped his present, she knew he'd appreciate that view too, as the matching demi-cup bra and thong she'd bought for underneath added sexiness to her otherwise "innocent" costume.
Innocent yet sexy, Carin thought to herself, standing straight and turning to face the mirror. After an approving nod, she squeezed her thighs together and tugged on her braids, as much in anticipation of Justin's return as to squelch the ache of lonely lust that left her feeling empty whenever he was away.
Opening a cabinet door by the mirror, she reached for her favorite scent and dabbed a moistened finger behind each ear and deep into her cleavage. Justin wouldn't be home for another day, but Carin frequently put on perfume for him when he was traveling, or shaved herself smooth, or had her nails painted in the pale-pink shade he favored, all as ways to feel closer to him. As hints of jasmine tickled her nostrils, visions of their reunion flooded her mind, but the sumptuous aroma did little to fill the void she felt.
Still, she was relieved by her outfit's arrival and buoyed by the success of her dress rehearsal. Loosening the halter's knot, she let the ties hang while shimmying out of the skirt. She removed the ribbons from her hair and peeled the top from her shoulders. Strutting into the bedroom in her frilly new underwear and thigh highs, she felt far more sexy than innocent, and worlds beyond the naive woman she'd been before meeting Justin. As she crossed to a bureau he'd recently purchased for her, she combed her fingers through the loosening braids, as if trying to tease from her mind some of the salacious thoughts he was forever putting into it. At this particular moment, it was a silly fantasy he'd whispered in bed a week earlier, which began with him instructing her to undress in front of his bedroom windows as a hunky gardener looks up from the hedges by the cobblestone drive.
By the time Carin reached the bureau, the fantasy had dissipated and she again thought only of Justin. Though they had dated less than a year, she had officially moved in a week earlier and it wasn't a moment too soon. She loved the feeling of belonging in this magnificent beach house, of belonging in this room with Justin, the only man who'd ever tapped in to desires she hardly knew she had. She opened the top drawer and put in the outfit, and closed the drawer with a dreamy sigh.
Turning from the bureau, she spied the answering machine's message button glowing red from across the room and felt it pulling her toward it as if it were a beacon. Arriving by the bedside table, she sat on the edge of the mattress, thankful she hadn't erased the message after first hearing it. After pressing the button, she folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently, as if sitting straight-backed in her church pew on any given Sunday before services begin. When she heard the first low rumblings of Justin's voice, she squeezed her thighs together again.
