© Copyright 2006, 2007
Chapter 8—Interlude
On Sunday night James took Vicki to dinner at a restaurant in Corning. It was nice to relax out in the open, unconcerned about being observed. They spoke a little about James' worries over Reverend Chandler, but not much. Anything said would have expressed would be 'preaching to the choir'.
They did make some preliminary plans for a weekend trip into the Wine Country at one of the Bed and Breakfast Inns that dot that area of the state. There were many to choose from between Seneca and Cayuga Lakes. School would be closed on Veteran's Day, so they thought they would take advantage of the long weekend.
It was an Italian restaurant, small and friendly with candles on the tables casting a glow on the otherwise darkened room. It was on the street that sidles up to the Chemung River, not far from the Museum of Glass. The veal and eggplant covered in sauce, splashed down by Chianti, was excellent, if filling. They were going to pass on dessert, but the owner persuaded them to split a cannoli. They had coffee with it.
"This dinner is going to go right to my hips," Vicki said in mock complaint.
"I know what you mean," James replied. "I think that I just neutralized a week's worth of running—but it was worth it."
"At least you have a way to work it off!" she rebutted. She lowered her voice and demurely asked, "Would you like to help me work some of it off in my apartment tonight?"
"I was afraid that you weren't going to ask," James replied.
"What time have you got, James?" Vicki asked.
"Exactly eight o'clock," he answered.
"It's still early," Vicki said. "Let's have another coffee."
"Let's go to your place and make some," replied James, only half joking.
"It's so early," Vicki insisted. "Let's just have another cup of coffee here."
"Cold feet?" asked James. "That's a new one for you."
"No, I don't have cold feet," Vicki whispered seductively. "I'm going to show you another one of my secrets—so now you can think about that a little longer." Her promise made James shift restlessly in his chair. "Order me an espresso while I powder my nose."
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The couple returned to Vicki's apartment at nine fifteen. James had been there earlier when he picked her up, and something looked different—like someone had been there while they were away.
"Something doesn't look quite right, Vicki," he warned. "I think that someone's been in here while we were gone."
Vicki looked quickly in the kitchen and around the living room. "Seems alright to me," she assured him.
"What about the bedroom?" James queried.
"You're always trying to get in my bedroom," she feigned a protest in a sultry tone. She embraced him, and waited for him to kiss her, which he did. James forgot his suspicions and let his senses fold into her. She peeled away his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. Next, she loosened his tie, and lifted the noose over his head. James started unbuttoning her blouse.
"Save that for later," she ordered, and then snaked her tongue between her lips and through his. Before he could respond she pulled away. She took him by the hand and led him to the closed bedroom door. "I thought this is where you wanted to go," she teased as he tried to analyze what was happening. James abandoned resistance, sensing something special in the opening stages.
Vicki put her hands on the doorknob. "Close your eyes," she whispered the instruction. James obeyed. He heard the door creak open and allowed her to pull him through the doorway. "Open them!" she bade him in her soft voice.
As James tried to adjust his vision to the darkness, he peered toward the bed. He barely made out a figure there, and wondered how Vicki had got on it so fast when he thought that she was standing beside him. The hiss of a striking match broke the silence. The glow of a newly lit candle pierced the room. It all happened too fast for James to realize that he was confused.
With the new light a new vision appeared, kneeling on the bed, the covers turned down. She wore a bright red negligee with little straps and a lacy bodice. It descended to the middle of her thighs. She remained motionless, allowing James to view her. Finally, her tongue wet her lips—two plump, red ribbons—and they broke the silence.
"You're a little overdressed, James," Abby said in her petite, laid-back voice. She looked back at him with that sweet smile. James gazed at her more closely, comparing what he saw in the flesh with what had been emblazoned in his mind's eye so many times. He tried to see through the thin, shiny material, but couldn't quite manage it.
Her small, compact body was as he always envisioned it; yet, the newness of the revelation made it into a magnet for the eye. There was the lean, but soft limbs, the bare shoulders delicately sculpted. Her collarbone connected them with gracefully curved lines. The pale skin, which he knew would be so smooth to the touch, glowed in the candlelight. He could see nothing of her cleavage, just lacy suggestions begging discovery.
"But Bubba..." he stammered.
"Bubba's somewhere in Pennsylvania," Abby replied. "He got on his way after dinner," she added as she arose from the bed and walked toward James.