This is a re-posting of my original story, Quartet, Ingrid. It has been re-worked to improve punctuation, grammar, and, I hope, readability.
Ingrid Ch.05
Ingrid turned the car out of the drop-off area at U.S. Departures and drove slowly around the ramp to the eastbound road leading away from the terminal. Steve had called her that morning at ten, as he had promised. She was up, but walking very gingerly. Her inner thigh muscles were stiff and sore, just as Steve had predicted.
She had lounged in the bath last night until she felt herself falling asleep. She got out, drained the tub, dried herself, slipped on a long t-shirt nightgown and crawled happily into bed. She looked at the clock radio and was surprised to see it was just nine-fifteen. It was her last conscious thought until she awoke when her clock radio came on at its usual seven a.m. Nearly ten hours sleep. Almost unheard of for her.
She lay in bed for a few minutes going over yesterday's events in her mind. So much had happened in such a short time. She seemed helpless to stop herself pushing their relationship forward. It was crazy. They had not even met a week ago and she was acting like they had been together for months.
She didn't understand her desperation. Did she think this was her last chance? No wonder Steve was defensive. He must think I'm nuts, but he keeps coming back for more. She didn't believe in love at first sight, especially after her disastrously short marriage. And yet, that's what was happening ... again!
She stopped interrogating herself, put on a robe, and walked to the kitchen. She poured herself an orange juice, took a vitamin pill, and peeled a banana. Aside from the sore thighs, she felt surprisingly good. The bath had been a good idea. She had looked in the mirror and was happy to see she hadn't been burned anywhere. She smiled at the memory of Steve putting the sun block on her. His hands were so soft and gentle, no wonder he aroused her quickly.
"Two or three more minutes and there would have been no stopping us," she thought. The boat would have been beached and the two of us would have ended up in the water, but we probably wouldn't have noticed. She smiled at what might have been.
It won't be long now. Thursday will be the day! She needed a special welcome home surprise for Steve. It certainly wouldn't be her cooking a special meal. She was an artist not a cook. They were going away for the weekend and that would be even more exciting. What could she do that would make it even more special? Think, girl, think!
-0-
She was curled up on the sofa Sunday evening, reading a graphics magazine and marveling at all the new computer software and technical aids now available. They all seemed out of reach, she despaired. Ah well, in the end, it's the ideas and not the equipment that people buy, she rationalized. She would just have to be smarter and more creative to compete against the big houses.
She thought about the Provincial Government contract that she was short-listed for. Add that to my credentials and I'll really have something to sell. She jumped when the phone rang. She looked at her watch and smiled. It was exactly eight o'clock.
She picked up the phone and using her sexiest voice crooned, "Hi there."
"Ingrid?" There was a pause. "Is that you?" It was Steve, predictably right on time.
"Who else would it be, handsome?" she continued in her seductive tone.
He laughed. "It's good to hear your voice even if you are being a temptress again."
"Well, you wouldn't want to have any doubt about what you're missing and what you're coming home to, would you?" the sultry voice continued.
"I think I'm getting the idea that you're a naughty girl, Ingrid. Is that true?"
He sounded so naive, she chuckled to herself.
"Don't most boys prefer naughty girls?"
The fun was catching. "Well, yes, but then I can't take them home to mother, if you know what I mean."
"What would I want with your mother, big boy? I prefer one hundred percent all male beefcake for a main course."
"Well if I can't take you home to mother, where can I take you?"
"How about to the moon, fella. Every girl wants a trip to the moon."
"Any ideas on how we could get you there?"
"Don't you have a rocket? I thought I felt one the other day."
"Why don't I come over some time and we can talk about ... propellants?"
He was really getting into the spirit of this not-quite obscene phone call. She hoped no one was listening in. Luckily, the day of the party line was long gone.
"Do we need a booster for this trip?" she continued.
"Baby, I can send you to the moon with one big stage."
"Well, you certainly sound like my kind of guy. When are you going to be here?"
"How does Thursday sound?"
"I dunno, it sounds like a long way off. I might meet someone else. He might be able to ... come ... much sooner."
"Quality, baby. Yah gotta stick with quality."
He was starting to snicker and Ingrid could sense he was having a hard time keeping pace with her. There were only so many clever retorts in his repertoire.
They both started to laugh. It had been fun.
"Is this what they mean by phone sex?" he asked.
"I don't know. I think this was pretty tame compared to some of that stuff," she replied merrily.
"Well we can always raunch it up a little if you like."
"Now you're talking. Lay it on me, big boy. I'm ready for some hot stuff!"
She was back in character again.
"I'm going to have to find a special name for this alter ego of yours. Ingrid is just too ...well ... decent," he taunted.
"You need to have a special persona for this naughty lady friend of yours. Something along the lines of ... oh ... say ... Indigo."
