Copyright 2006, 2007
Chapter 4—Suspicion
By the time that James returned from Vicki's apartment it was nearly noon. He drove into the driveway and bounded quickly from his car to the stairway. He ran up, skipping steps. He was sure that Mrs. Wilkinson was nearby lurking and he had no wish to answer her questions about where he'd been all night.
He had already showered with Vicki; he was more used to an early morning run. He liked the effect of the cool morning air in his lungs and on his face as he made ready for the day ahead. He decided to change into his running clothes and go for a run just the same. It would clear his head—and a lot of clearing there was to do. After that, he would shower again, fix some lunch and correct the rest of the homework papers. Then he would be ready to go out and buy some wine and head over to Vicki's for dinner.
James usually did his stretching in the yard before starting out to run. He decided to stay inside his apartment, the better to avoid Mrs. Wilkinson's interrogation. When he finished stretching out he bounded down the stairs and out the driveway. As he left the big house behind him he heard a door slam. He dared not look back. If she called out to him he would pretend not to hear; but she did not.
As he settled into his pace he looked around. He saw the neighborhood differently than he had when he was by himself in the morning. Then, it resembled a ghost town, save a passing car or two. Approaching high noon, it was alive. Children played and rode their bicycles. Mothers called them in for lunch. A man he did not know was trimming his hedge and stopped working to wave at James as he trotted past his house. James waved back. It felt natural to do it—he did it without thinking. He realized that if he had thought it over he would not have done so. He was glad that he did.
"All the world loves a lover," he quipped the cliché to himself and shook his head trying to understand the metamorphosis. Could his encounter with Vicki have changed him this much? He doubted it. It was just the time of day. Whatever the reason, he enjoyed feeling good.
"Ahh, Vicki!" he reminded himself of his newly found lover. She warned him about love. He would have to remember that. Sex was not love. It could accompany love, or stand by itself. He had learned that much. He would have to, at least, be friends with her. At least, he could like her. He admired her matter-of-fact casting off of hypocrisy. She disdained the coquette's pretense. She wanted sex; she gave and took it as it pleased her. What was wrong with that?
"I've finally done it," he congratulated and wondered at himself. He had sex for the first time, indulged in the pleasures of the flesh and felt no remorse. Both parties had been willing; pleasure was had by all. By all that he had ever been taught or believed, he should feel guilty. He was not so removed from his priestly vows to feel nothing. Try as he might, he could not feel guilt, or accept the presence of a stain on his soul. If he had done it while still under Holy Orders, or gained access to her body through deception or other evil trick, it would have been different. But he hadn't, and his logic allowed no room for false contrition. Perhaps, he pondered, that trait was his undoing as a priest.
***********
As James was nearing the end of his run he saw Mrs. Wilkinson standing on her porch, undoubtedly waiting to intercept him. There would be no escape. He halted at the end of the long driveway as he always did, and then walked slowly toward the house, hands on hips to cool his muscles down.
"Mr. O'Toole, you certainly enjoy running!" the old woman called to him as she stepped off the porch to intercept him.
"It keeps me fit, Mrs. Wilkinson," he called back between heaving breaths. He kept on walking.
"You usually run much earlier. I hear you go out, you know."
"I'm sorry. I'll try to be quieter."
"Of course you weren't here this morning."
"She got to the point quickly," James said to himself. His guard was up.
"No, I wasn't." He kept on walking.
"Of course, you're a single man. You're entitled," she allowed. "You certainly move fast. You just moved to town." Her lips turned up in a sneer and she cackled like one of Macbeth's witches. At least, it seemed so to James. Nevertheless, he stopped walking and let her continue.
"I wouldn't have an objection if you brought her up to your room." James didn't answer. "I don't mean to pry. Do you think that it would be anyone that I might know?"
"You are prying!" James thought silently. "I don't think so," he said out loud.
"I do get worried when my tenants don't come in at night,." she tried the motherly approach.
"Don't worry about me. It was really a quiet night. It was just with some friends after the football game," he replied.
Owww! A big mistake! Now she had a clue that he had been with someone connected with the school. Doris would know within minutes, he was sure.
The old woman started nodding that she understood. She seemed to lose interest in further questions. James knew he had slipped and needed to escape before any more damage could be inflicted.
"I've got to go, Mrs. Wilkinson. I've got some papers to correct," He waved and loped off to his private stairway. She didn't object and turned to back inside.
*************
James arrived at Vicki's apartment just before seven. As she opened the door he saw she had already started preparing dinner. She took the bottle of wine from him and opened it right away, pouring each a glass.
"To a fun evening!" she lifted a toast, smiling broadly. James followed suit and they drank down about half the glass.
"Why don't you go and pick out some music while I finish up a few things in the kitchen," she said and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Pick out whatever you like. I have something of everything."
James sorted through the CD's and found he had no idea about any kind of music. He just selected the one on top and bent to the task of figuring out the CD player. Country music started pouring out of the speakers.
"So you like Country Music, after all?" she exclaimed in surprise. "I wouldn't have guessed that."
"I didn't have any idea, so I played the one on top," James admitted.
Vicki emerged from the kitchen and stepped close to James. "Honesty! I like that in a man!" she whispered as she rubbed yourself on him. She stood on her toes and kissed him again. This time it was more sensuous and she slipped her tongue between his lips. James embraced her and kissed back. They held it for nearly a minute.
"Whew!" she gasped as she stepped away from him. "We better slow down, or we'll never have dinner." She let out a little giggle, signaling what might be for dessert. "Can you just watch that sauce simmering on the stove while I go freshen up a little? Give it a little stir every now and then." She turned toward her bedroom, walking with an exaggerated sway to her round hips. Before she disappeared behind the door she looked over her shoulder and winked at him.
James poured himself another glass of wine and stirred the sauce as ordered. At first, he was patient waiting for her to return. After a few minutes he was patient no longer and wondered what could keep her in the bedroom so long.
"Vicki, do you want me to turn down the heat on this sauce? It's thickening up," he yelled, hoping that she would come running to save her sauce.
To his surprise she remained in hiding and did not answer. At least, she did so for about another minute.
"Turn down the heat on what?" She posed provocatively as the bedroom door creaked open. "Did you say that you were thickening up?" She sauntered slowly toward him and James took in what he saw, for it was a sight created just for him.
She had discarded her everyday clothes. She wore a negligee of black satin. There were spaghetti straps at the shoulders that held up a bodice of lace that James could almost see through. The gown was floor length. Her ample breasts spilled over the low-cut top.
