The three women pushed through the exit doors of the Sound Bar, weaved their way through the lines of people awaiting entry, and hailed a cab as an L train, sparks cascading from beneath its undercarriage, lumbered across the tracks above.
Piling into the back seat after her friends, Beth pulled the cab door shut behind her and fished the cell phone from her pink Prada handbag. She flipped it open and, careful not to chip her freshly manicured nails, dialed the connection to her voicemail.
"Hey, honey," began the first message. "Just calling to check in. I tried the house but got voicemail. Anyway, I've got a ten a.m. flight tomorrow and should be on the ground by noon or so. Give me a call on my cell, or I'll see you when I get home."
As the cab turned west onto Chicago Avenue, Beth lowered the phone from her ear and punched "7" on the keypad to delete the message. Her slender fingers brushing a few loose strands of her platinum hair from her cheek, she put the phone back to her ear and listened to the second message.
"Beth, this is Dan. Stacy Donovan gave me your number. Said to call if I wanted to get together; that you'd be expecting my call. I know its short notice, but if you're free tonight . . . Well, anyway. Give me a call. My number should be on your Caller ID."
She again cleared the message, folded the phone, and tucked it away in her handbag. She stared out the rain-streaked window as the cab passed Japonaise and crossed the north branch of the Chicago River. Her mind drifted as she thought about the competing phone calls, one from her husband, the other from Stacy's young fuck-toy. The dilemma that presented itself wreaked havoc on her simple mind but after a few moments of torturous contemplation, she shook it off.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Four," Mandy responded, checking her make-up in a compact, using the glare from the passing streetlights to reapply her lip gloss.
"For more drinks, stupid," Beth said laughingly.
Mandy rolled her eyes as she explained. "No. Four. F-O-U-R."
"Four?" Beth's brows knitted. She shifted on the bench seat, the tight Seven jeans uncomfortable in her seated position.
"Yeah. It's kinda new. New since you moved to burbs, anyway. It's up on Division, near Ashland.
"Hmph. Never heard of it."
Chrissy, sitting between them, laughed. "That's 'cause you rarely get downtown, Beth. Gotta get out once in a while. Live a little."
As the Checker taxi streaked up Milwaukee Avenue, Beth's gaze wandered to the window again. She fumed at Chrissy's comment. Mandy and Chrissy were old friends and the three women had just passed the mid-thirties mark. Mandy's husband had left her a few years back and Chrissy was still single. Beth felt they were jealous of her, having a husband with a nice salary and a big house in the suburbs. 'Live a little?' she steamed. 'Fuck you, Chrissy.'
The cab pulled up on the corner of the six-way intersection of Milwaukee, Division and Ashland and, after tossing a ten-dollar bill the cabbie's way, the girls piled out, crossed the street and strutted the half-block toward Four.
Before they arrived at the door, Beth stopped and tucked herself in a doorway, seeking shelter from the light drizzle.
"Hey, guys. I'll be in in a sec. I need to make a call real quick."
"Okay, sweetie," Mandy called over her shoulder as the bouncer waived her and Chrissy past the wet line waiting to get in.
Once Mandy and Chrissy were out of sight, Beth opened her cell phone and pulled up the "received calls" log. There was no name attached to the most recent call and she didn't recognize the number.
She took a deep breath, held it for a moment, her breasts jutting forth, then exhaled, all the while watching the cars flash by on Division. Having resolved the conflict in her mind, she shrugged her shoulders, hit "Send" on the phone's keypad and put it to her ear.
* * *
In his condo in Lincoln Park, Dan had just stepped from the shower and was toweling off when the phone rang. He walked from his bathroom into the bedroom and retrieved the chirping phone from his bedside table.
"Hello?" he answered, wrapping the towel around his waist.
"Um, hi. Dan? This is Beth."
A smile crept across his face at the sound of the soft voice. It had an innocent quality to it, high-pitched without being squeaky.
"Hi, Beth."
"Uh. How are you?"
"I'm doing well. How about you?"
"I'm, uh, I'm fine. Just out with some friends."
"Havin' fun?" he asked, falling back onto the bed, the towel still draped around him.
"Yeah, I guess. It's all right."
"Doesn't sound too fun."
"Um, well, you know. Same ol', same ol'."
Dan hesitated before responding. 'Slow and steady wins the race?' he wondered. 'Or the early bird gets the worm?'
"Wanna come over?" he asked, making up his mind almost before the questions formed.
"Well, uh, sure. I guess."
Dan laughed lightheartedly. "Don't sound too enthused."
This time it was Beth who hesitated. "What do you. . ." she began, before Dan interrupted her.
"Excited. Don't sound too excited."
"Oh, yeah." Beth laughed, having gotten it. "It's not that. It's just, well, just that I don't know where you live or anything like that."
"Well, I'll tell you and you can hop in a cab. How's that sound?" Dan pushed himself off the comfortable bed and walked to his dresser, pulling a pair of boxers from the top drawer.
"Um, sure. That'd be great."
He grunted out his address while pulling the boxers and then a pair of gray cotton shorts over his muscular hips.
"Okay," Beth said. "I'll be there in a little bit."
* * *
As Dan hung up the phone, Beth stood on the sidewalk in front of Four, repeating his address over and over again in her head, a slender arm waving above her head trying to find a cab.
Her thick nipples stood erect in the unseasonable but still cool evening breeze. It took only a moment for a taxi to spot the little blonde strumpet and swerve hard to the curb.
She climbed into the cab and as it accelerated away from the curb, she gave a mental wave goodbye to her friends.
'How's this for living, you bitch?' she asked Chrissy.
* * *
Pulling a tee-shirt over his head, Dan wandered into his living room, muted the television and turned on the stereo. A few minutes later, his phone rang; the pizza had arrived. After he paid the delivery guy, he filled a plate with slices of pizza and sat in front of the TV as he recalled Beth.
He had met her husband several years ago at a party hosted by one of his father's friends, Keith Thomason; Beth's husband worked for Mr. Thomason. He was, in a word, an asshole; a habitual drunk and womanizer who, with his heavy travel schedule, cheated on his wife as often as he could. It turned out that Beth was no better in the fidelity department.
Before Keith's wife, Stacy, had left for Naples for the winter months, she had given Dan Beth's number, urging him to call her if he desired. This particular evening, after having seen his old fuck-buddy Kelly in the Elephant & Castle, that desire blossomed.
Dan's cock stirred in his pants when his land-line chirped twice, indicating someone calling from the secured entrance downstairs. After buzzing her in, he took his plate into the kitchen before opening the door, waiting for Beth to step from the elevator.
He heard the elevator ding and, a moment later, Beth turned the corner and strode the thirty feet towards his door. Dan mentally gasped as she came into view. He knew her to be thirty-five, maybe thirty-six, but she had aged well. A pair of leopard print spike heels donned her small feet and tight jeans clung to her well-toned legs. A form-fitting tee-shirt that looked as though it came from Baby Gap hugged her torso, accentuating a massive pair of surgically enhanced breasts that jiggled just slightly as she strode down the hallway. Dan figured that she must be wearing a paper-thin bra, designed to be invisible beneath the tight shirt, insofar as it failed to conceal her hardened nipples.
"What, no coat?" Dan asked by way of introduction.
Beth laughed as she came to a stop before him and shrugged her shoulders; the movement caused her large breasts to rise and fall on her trim torso. "I'm always afraid I'll lose it, or someone will steal it," she answered, her voice delicate, feminine.
Dan extended his hand and she took it with a single-pump shake. "Nice to meet you," he said. Though her fingers were cool, her flesh was soft, supple.
"Um, you, too." Dan released her hand and stepped aside to allow her entry. As she passed, her perfume wafted through his nostrils and he inhaled deeply. Her scent reminded him a gentlemen's club he had recently visited in Atlanta, that elusive scent worn by strippers the world over.
Beth stepped into the living room and turned to face him, her bag still slung over her shoulder.
"Here, let me take that for you," he said, approaching her.
"Thanks. I've heard a lot about you," she announced, her thin jaw working on a piece of Juicyfruit. "From Stacy, I mean."
