The Pleasant Day

One lucky person notices her at a light. He's in the left turn lane. In the back of the black car to his right, through its glass, through the crazy reflections of his car and the strip mall, beauty in the evening. Dark brown hair, a dimpled chin, a white shoulder. There's something about her expression, focused and intent, fearful and resigned, that grips him.

The light turns and fate washes her away in the stream of cars.

Another catches a glimpse of her on 495. He sits in the passenger seat. His head bobs to hip-hop. He glances over and as they overtake and pass, 75 beside 70, his eyes meet hers. Wide and dark, alone in the back seat of the black car. He can think of nothing sensible to say to his friend to get him to slow and so he's carried away.

A last is struck by her while out walking his dog on a residential city street. The black car glides past. Its tires hiss on the wet pavement. She has an arm up and is pushing her brown hair back from an ear. His dog keeps its nose in the grass, but he! His wife finds him unexpectedly amorous a short time later.

Someone truly lucky, and as there is none such, such a person must be imagined, would sit in the back seat beside her. He would watch as the rhythmic waves of light, a street light every hundred feet or so, disentangle her from the gloom. That truly lucky onlooker would see that she is naked. Both hands now nervously rest on bare thigh.

The driver is the least lucky. He knows what sits behind but can't see. The GPS speaks and he follows its instruction and stops half way down a street of old elegant brownstones.

Our imaginary onlooker finds that he is curious. As time means nothing to the imagination, he slides back and finds her an hour or so earlier in a restaurant with her boyfriend.

She's ordered what she usually has there, spicy baby shrimp which she shares. Her boyfriend has a steak which he doesn't.

They talk in an easy manner about the current IRS scandal.

They talk about the "Game of Thrones" episode they watched the evening before.

She: "I get so tired of that crazy 'have you guessed who I am yet' guy with his silly horn and his wicked blade. He makes me think of Harpo Marx, like I'm watching the Marx brothers do 'A Night with Jack the Ripper'."

He: "You can't complain when there are dragons."

She: "Yep, one can put up with a good bit when there're dragons."

They talk about work. She's in the drafting group. He's one of the architects, not a partner but ambitious. He wants to set up on his own.

She drinks more wine than she really wants. She knows that when she and her boyfriend get home, some of the things that will happen to her she'll like, most she will not.

"That project I put the bid in for," he says to her, "You think I'll get it?"

"Hope so. We worked hard enough on it. And I hope they don't find out at work that we've been moonlighting," she says.

"They won't care so much about twenty houses. And what's this 'we' shit? It's my work."

His phone buzzes and he calls for the check.

As they walk out, she says, "My coat." It's quite chilly outside with a thin misty rain.

He says, "I'll come back for it."

She looks surprised and perplexed.

The black car idles just in front of the restaurant's front doors. It's double parked behind the handicapped spots. He opens the back door and helps her in. He slides in beside her.

"Your purse," he says. He reaches and separates it from her surprised fingers.

"Your sandals," he says.

She wears them because he likes them. She put them on in her cube, just before they left work. She refuses to wear such things about the office. A black strap at the ankle. Just a strap over the toes. Heels much higher than she likes. Cold and wet when she walked with him from the office to his car. Cold and wet when they walked from his car to the restaurant. Cold and wet across the short distance to the black car.

Feeling stunned, she looks at him a moment. Her eyes are wide and expressive.

"Your sandals, Ella" he repeats.

She bends forward and fumbles with the straps in the dark. The carpeted mat on the car's floor feels rough on her feet. She hands the sandals to him.

He watches her silently, waiting.

After a moment she pulls her blouse from her belt, unbuttons it and shrugs out of it. She undoes her bra. She undoes her belt and unzips her skirt at the side. She lifts herself and pulls her skirt and her slip and her panties hurriedly down her pale white thighs.

She starts to stupidly fold her clothes but he takes them impatiently. He opens the car door and is out. She sees her bra drop onto the wet pavement.

She opens her mouth to protest.

"I'll be waiting for you there," he assures her.

The door slams and the car flows into motion.

She turns and watches the brightly lit restaurant with its jaunty Caribbean theme shrink. She sees her boyfriend walk across the glistening asphalt towards his car. She sees the white spec of her bra. The black car accelerates smoothly, like a river boat taken by the current. She can no longer see him.

Her coat is still on its hook in the restaurant's entryway.

Satisfied for the moment, our imaginary onlooker slides back to the present.

The line of four and five story brownstones on either side of the street makes it seem the black car is parked in a dark canyon.

The driver's luck turns for the better. He climbs out of the stopped car and opens the door for her.

His luck is that she sits as if frozen by the wash of cold damp air.

His luck is that he has a perfect moment to look down on her breasts, on her flat stomach, on her clean shaven sex all but hidden between her tightly closed thighs. To think about what she's sure to be doing soon.

"Number 15," he tells her.

"My God," she says. "Is it open?"

"How should I know? Look I have to get going."

"Check if it's open, please. Ring if it's not."

"Lady, I have to get going."

His luck is that he watches her climb from the car, white skin against black. He watches her rush across the wet brick sidewalk and up the marble steps to the large black wooden door.

His luck holds as she tries the handle and then rings the bell. She looks desperately up and down the street. It is thankfully deserted except for the appreciative driver.

His luck fails when the door clicks and with a relieved gasp she vanishes from view.

With the door shut she breathes easier. In front of her is a spiraling hardwood staircase. To her right is the entrance way to a large high ceilinged space. It has a dark gleaming parquet floor. A chandelier hangs from the ceiling. Oriental carpets lie under the furniture: a desk by a bay window, a statue of a discus thrower, a couch and easy chairs in front of a hearth. Old flames dance in the fireplace, three logs over glowing coals.

Two men stand by the fire. One shorter, gray and balding. The other taller with brown neatly cut hair.

She takes a deep breath and steps towards them. They watch her. One has an amber colored drink in his hand, the other reaches and takes his from the mantel.

She feels she is floating, somehow isolated from the room in a bubble of vacuum.

She stops before them. She feels the wool of the rug. It has a pale pattern of deer being hunted. The fire is welcomely hot. The contrast causes her to shiver.

"Hold your arms out and turn," the taller of the two instructs her.

She does and stops when she faces them again.

The shorter of the two says, "Pay up, Charles." And when he's accepted a twenty, he grins and says, "I'm off. My wife expects me back by 10."

She watches the shorter man finish his drink, nod to her, and then walk out of the room. She hears the front door open and shut.

"You are not happy in your choice of partner," the tall man observes dryly after a moment.

She feels this is unfair. "I didn't choose between you," she says.

He smiles, "I meant Tod, he's your boyfriend?"

After a moment she manages, "What, what is the arrangement?"

"None really," he says. "My parents own some land in New Hampshire which we plan to develop. Tod has submitted a proposal. It's a very attractive plan. You know about this?" he asks when he sees her expression change.

"Yes, I helped with it."

"He would say you are helping this minute," he comments with the same dry smile.

"I must choose," he goes on, "Between him, well the pair of you? and other more established, well known architects. We had lunch and when I was explaining myself, he placed your picture, quite a nice one of you in a yellow dress in front of a blooming magnolia tree, on the table. You know it? The picture not the table, of course."

She nods. Her boyfriend'd taken the photo in a cemetery close to his apartment in the spring one Sunday shortly after she'd moved in with him. She'd seen it in his camera and'd hoped he'd print it and put it on his desk at work or in his wallet. He hadn't. She'd not seen it since.

"There were other pictures too. Nice in their way." He admired her a moment, "You blush very prettily. I told him I'd arrange a car and we agreed on the time and place."

"I must say," he continues, "Watching you in the car," he waves at an IPad that rests on the coffee table, "Was very sweet. Watching you walk across the room, ah, that was the most beautiful thing I've seen in some time.

"Where did you think you were being taken?" he asks, "Had Tod explained?"

"No," she murmurs.

"I thought not, well?"

"There's a party at Jen and Darren's tonight. Tod's friends. They get a bit wild. Their parties. I thought at first I was to you know, well." She flushed, "I'd said I wouldn't go. So he was a bit put out. When we got on the highway, I thought the car would take me to a motel and Tod would be waiting for me. Then I just didn't know. I knew your name but not your address."

"What's your name?"

"Ella"

"What do you think will happen to you now, Ella?"

She looks down at the carpet, at its pattern of deer. She stands on one. The pale thing is frozen leaping wild eyed from a hound.

He adds, "Tod suggested I send you back the way you came late Sunday afternoon."

He likes the way she looks up at him, with almost the deer's desperate expression.

After another moment of enjoyment, he sighs and says, "I'll get you a robe and something to drink?"

He sees her relax a trifle and a bit of relief lightens her face.

"That would be so great, the robe," she says, then, "I really had too much to drink at dinner, I wouldn't've, I don't think I would've otherwise, anyway" she collapses into incoherence.

"Tea then? Coffee? A soda even?"

"You know," she says with a little smile, "A soda would be great."

"Coke?" When she manages, "OK", he continues, "Sit on the hearth, I'll be right back."

Alone in the high ceilinged airy space she feels all the more exposed. She shrinks down onto marble in front of the fire. Its low dancing flames are hot on her back.

He returns with the soda in a glass with ice. He has a blue fleece robe and one of his white undershirts in his other hand.

She sighs with relief as she pulls the white t-shirt over her head. It reaches to mid thigh. She shrugs the robe on next.

It proves to be a little small for her. When she sits on the couch it falls open, once again revealing her charms. She squirms and by sitting crosslegged manages to cover herself. She sees him watching her. "Silly, huh? You've seen everything there is." she says.

Then she sips her soda and sighs again, "It's been years since I had a Coke in the evening. Not since my slumber party days."

"What will you do about Tod's proposal?" she asks.

"How much of it is your work?"

She looks at the fire, thinking of what to say. "Little of the design beyond suggestions? I did the drafting and did the word processing."

"What would your share be?"

"We haven't talked about that, we're, well you know, together."

He snorts. "You're a fool. Well, I'm still thinking about it."

"If I pick your submission," he pauses looking at her, "If I pick your proposal, what will your involvement be?"

"Probably limited, I have no experience in managing such a project. I'll be like a secretary at most. I'm not complaining. It'll be good experience. I'm planning on going back to school in a year or so."

After a moment she asks, "Who was the other guy?"

"My neighbor, we had a bet as to whether your boyfriend would deliver. I lost. Now look," he says, "I can give you a ride home or you can sleep in the guest room."

"That would be best."

"Which?"

"The ride home if it's not too much trouble."

"OK, I had been planning to send you back by cab, with a note of thanks of course, but I think I'll prolong the pleasure of your company. I'll have to walk to the garage where my car is parked. It'll be 15 minutes maybe."

As much to do something as not, she climbs the stairs that spiral up from the hall.

On the first floor up she finds a dining room with another hearth and a long hardwood table. In the gloom she catches a glimpse of the kitchen.

On the third floor she finds his bedroom, a bathroom and his study. In his bedroom there is a four poster bed with a gauzy canopy. A rope is attached to the each post with a black leather cuff on the rope's free end. Each looks to her like a little hangman's noose.

She looks in the study. There she sees a thing like the vaulting horse she remembers from her school gym days. It has straps with cuffs on each leg. Paddles and straps and candles and other paraphernalia are on shelves in a glass doored cabinet.

She carefully walks back down the stairs.

She's just returned to the ground floor when the front door opens. He is back.

"Get a coat from the closet. There should be some boots too."

"I'm good," she says, "The car'll be warm? and I could get both my feet into one of your boots and have room for a third."

He shields her with an umbrella down the steps and across the cold pavement. A Prius idles, if that's what you call what they do, double parked. He opens the door and she slides in. Grateful that it is indeed warm.

She tells him her address.

He says, "I'll get close and then let you tell me. I'd rather hear your voice than the car's."

She looks out the window.

They drive without speaking. Then, "This exit." Then "Right at the light." Finally "Turn here" into an apartment complex.

"If he's not home, how will you get in?" he asks.

"I've got a spare key hidden under my car," she says, "I'll just use it."

She points to where her car is parked. He shields her with his umbrella as she climbs out and walks between her car and the one next to it. Her feet leave brief bare footprints on the wet asphalt.

She bends and reaches up into the left front wheel well. She shows him the little black box that'd been hidden there. He walks with her to the glass front door of the building. He watches her let herself in. He watches through the glass as she walks across the little entryway, leaving slim little wet footprints. She waits at the elevator and then vanishes.

Less than five minutes later she rushes out. She looks shocked and angry. She still wears the blue robe. It opens wide as she hurries.

She sees his car and runs to it. Her bare feet splash in the puddles.

"Thank God you're still here. That asshole," she says, sliding in.

"My mother taught me always to wait a few moments after dropping off a date," he says dryly, "To make sure all is well. What's wrong?"

"That asshole." she repeats, "I let myself in. I immediately heard them. This loud moaning. Over the music even. The jerk."

"I can't say I'm that surprised."

She takes a deep breath, "Well no, maybe not. But shit. It was the college intern from work. I was so stunned all I wanted to do was get out of there. The creep."

They sit quietly for a minute.

"Look, this is really rotten of me," she says, "But would you be willing to let me use your guest room? The second option?"

"Sure," he says.

"It's really too much. I'm sorry about dragging you all this way. If I went to friends or my parents like this! I could never explain."

"You want me to go back up with you Ella?" he asks. "You could get clothes and whatever?"

"I couldn't stand it."

"I could go up by myself."

"You are really nice," she sighs. She's quiet. "No, I don't want to be here. You'll think me crazy, but I want to be someplace else. Someplace I can crash where no one knows me and I don't have to explain."

"OK."

A short time later, when the car's accelerated onto the highway, he asks, "You met him at work?"

"Yes," she answers in a flat voice from the dark of the passenger's seat. "I'll tell you about the first time we had sex? This was maybe our third date. We went out to eat with a crowd of his friends. There were maybe ten of us. We went to this Korean restaurant. They had this room in the basement, like for family parties and groups like ours, separate from the restaurant proper upstairs. We all sat at this long table. One of the guys had a paper bag and each guy including Tod drew a slip of paper from it. I'd had a couple drinks. I thought it was a raffle or something. You know, one couple doesn't have to pay or some such. Kind'a stupid.

"After a bit, I noticed one couple get up. I thought they were like going to the restrooms.

"They came back and after a couple minutes another couple got up. I knew right then. I felt cold and like I was trapped in this cone of silence, though the room was real hot and noisy. For the next ten minutes while they were gone. All I thought of was getting up and leaving. Then I wondered if Tod and I were next. We weren't. We were the couple after that. He led me to this little storage room. Right next to the function room. I could hear the shouting and laughing. It had a cot. One of the women had brought a clean sheet, I learned later. I let him undress me. I gave him a blow job and took the condom he offered, coaxed him back to life and then stretched out on the cot. It felt quite nasty. I could hear everything that was said next door. He lay on me and entered. I felt horrible through most of it. Then, after like fifteen minutes I felt like explosively hot. Things got quiet next door and I knew they were listening. I couldn't help myself.

"When we went back in they cheered and I felt quite embarrassed, but not so bad otherwise."

There's silence in the car save for the road sounds.

"You want to know about the pictures, how I got started on that?"

She doesn't wait for him to say anything, "Shortly after I moved in with him, Tod showed me this video. It was called 'The Bribe'. This girl, wearing just a coat, walks into the county commissioner's office. She closes the door behind herself."

Ella pauses and then in a rueful tone, "Oh my god, I just realized how close to home this is. Anyway. She says she's a slave sent by so-and-so and she will do whatever the guy wants. She has a bag of things, you know, cuffs, clamps, what have you. She shows them to the guy. She demonstrates each in turn and encourages him to get some hands on experience.

"When she started demonstrating, Tod paused it. He got from a closet this like shoe box. He told me to stand and strip. Then as each thing happened on the screen, he did the same to me. I remember watching the girl, the porn..., well she was acting so we'll call her the actress. I remember wondering whether the character she played enjoyed what was happening. I wondered whether the actress in fact enjoyed it. Some of the things, like with the strap, weren't really happening to her so much. Tod the bastard didn't pull his punches."

"What happened then," he asks.

"Despite myself I felt very hot and ..."

"I meant in the video?"

"Sheesh. They had a bit of a surprise end. The girl goes back to so-and-so with a note saying that the commissioner doesn't accept bribes and that so-and-so's request for a zoning change is rejected."