This story was originally posted in the Lovin' Wives category years ago. But it, like too many of my stories, was meant to be a one-off short story. But Chad and Cassie had other ideas. Then they slotted themselves right into my Trouble Texas Style series which began with Night Walker's Woman. If you have not read that one yet, this story will not be as poignant but can be read alone. Yes, there is more to come. Loads more to this story, which is why I am updating it and moving it from that original category.
***New Orlean -- 15 years ago***
Cassandra McBride stared at the woman in the mirror. She was virtually unrecognizable from the usual designer-suited, diamond-clad, and haute couture trophy wife of the millionaire oilman that graced the pages of the society section in every newspaper from Waco to Houston.
But tonight was special -- different. Tonight she was not the twenty-five-year-old wife of a powerful man. Tonight she was Cassie. Just Cassie. Tonight she was living out her deepest fantasy. For this one night, she was going to be 'just a good ole' boy's girl.'
It might seem a strange fantasy for someone who had been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. But Cassie had never fit-in. She had never been the daughter that her mother wanted, or the son that her father needed. She was a disappointment all around. Not pretty enough nor talented enough to win the beauty contests that her mother had. Not driven enough or ruthless enough to follow in her father's footsteps, even if she were just a 'girl.'
Instead, her daddy had done the only thing he could think of to ensure her future and her mother's. He had bartered the nineteen-year-old virgin to the highest bidder. Perhaps she was not fair to the man who had given her life, but being the poison pill of a corporate merger had not been part of her life's plan.
She chuckled as she thought about how the dying man had used guilt and responsibility to entrap her into marriage. "What will happen to your Mama?" Why her daddy had not simply arranged a marriage between his widow and his rival had once perplexed her. Wouldn't that have been simpler? But, over time, she came to understand. Her Mama wasn't young enough to attract or keep Gerald McBride's interest in the company.
Instead, her life had been bartered away. Her dreams crushed. Her plans buried. Called home from her second year at A&M, her dream of becoming a teacher sacrificed to provide financial stability to her father's business and her mother's expensive tastes.
In the past five years, Cassie had come to terms with it all - accepted that this was her life and made the best of the situation. She had made her place in the social circles which her husband dominated. Found some solace in her work with underprivileged children.
But still, something was missing. Some piece of herself. Some purpose and meaning. Finally, she had convinced Gerald to have a baby. A child of her own. Their own, she supposed. Though she doubted that it would work out that way. Her father had certainly never been an active part of her life. And from what little she knew of Gerald's early involvement in his son Stephen's upbringing, it was highly unlikely he would take any interest in this child either. That did not deter her, though.
Before she settled down, took that final step, which would tie her forever to her husband, there was one thing she wanted to do. For herself. One fantasy to fulfill. And tonight was the perfect opportunity. Her trip to New Orleans for the national conference on the rights of the child provided her the window of chance she never thought she would get.
Tonight, she was going to become 'just a good ole' boy's girl.' A woman. Not a child bride exchanged for security. Not a trophy wife whose charity work reflected nicely upon her powerful husband, softening his cut-throat image, and deflecting at least a bit of criticism. Just a woman. An unknown quantity. A mystery.
She pirouetted before the mirror in the bathroom of her motel. Motel. That alone was a first for her. Not some five-star, posh, sterile, and overly expensive prison of the soul.
Just a run of the mill, cookie-cutter, overly done, chain motel. One of the thousands across the country, most exactly the same as this one. While the room itself was just as sterile as its higher-end cousins, she had found the down-home attitude of the staff refreshing and heartening. She had even gone so far as to check in under her maiden name, paying in cash, something unheard of at those other places.
This was her chance, though. Perhaps her last. And she was not going to waste it. New Orleans, even in the off-season, was a place that beckoned a wildness in the soul. A place where you could lose yourself, let down your hair, and forget the tights reins of societal strictures.
And that was just what Cassie intended doing tonight. Her last in the Big Easy. Laissez les bon temps rouler -- "let the good times roll" epitomized the city's joie de vivre. A joy that had been missing for most of her twenty-four years on this planet. Was one perfect night too much to ask of Fate?
Cassie sighed as her trembling fingers lifted the cardboard box. Condoms. That was the question. How far was she going to take this fantasy? It was the unanswered query that had plagued her since she hatched this plan weeks ago. She still had no answers. But just in case, she slipped the box into her purse.
One last turn before the mirror, a final inspection. She wore tight, well-worn jeans that she had bought at a thrift store. Her auburn hair fell about her face that sported markedly more dramatic make-up than usual. A touristy t-shirt completed the ensemble. Her one splurge had been the shiny red cowgirl boots, but she could wear those again, perhaps to the Livestock Show & Rodeo.
Ensemble? Cassie chuckled nervously. Tonight she would have to watch that. Her vocabulary. Not that it would be too much of a challenge. After all, she had been raised more by Aunt Rose, the old 'negro' housekeeper and cook, than either of her parents.
Cassie still shuddered at that word. How easily her parents, her husband, and their friends dismissed people simply because of the color of their skin or the size of their bank account. She would never get used to that.
Perhaps that was the root of this fantasy? All those hours, days, a childhood spent in the presence of a simple woman with an earthy honesty, warm cookies, and open arms for the little girl who had no one else to love.
She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it could trail down her painted cheek, ruining her make-up and delaying this night further. Perhaps that was what she was doing? Procrastinating? Because deep inside, Cassie knew that Aunt Rose would not approve of this escapade.
Cheating. Whether she had sex with a man other than her husband or not, she knew that Aunt Rose would consider this adventure 'hanky-panky.' Something the woman had never condoned in her parents and would be scandalized over in her 'honey child.'
That was the issue. Cassie felt guilty. And she had not even done anything. Yet. Oh, Gerald might not realize it, but she was more than aware of his little peccadilloes, usually with Latina girls. Most barely legal. Others? But as Aunt Rose said, "Two wrongs don't make a right."
