The innocent Deirdre continues her slow journey, deeper into infidelity. For an introduction, read Chapter 1. Just click on my name and go to the link. Don't forget to vote!
I didn't utter a word to my work mate, Mandy, about my brief tryst with Jack Taylor on Wednesday when I'd been working alone in the dental office. The fact that I'd followed her advice and had a "little fling" with him had filled me with guilt at being an adulteress. Betraying my vows to Frank after nearly ten years of marriage was too much to freely admit. Though oral sex was as far as Jack and I had gone, because I'd been ovulating, my sheltered upbringing had conditioned me to fear the harsh judgments accorded a wanton woman who'd strayed from her husband.
On the other hand, I felt more alive – more vital – than I could remember having felt in my 32 years. Just picturing in my mind the virile image of the 40-year-old home designer Jack Taylor, whose mellifluous telephone voice had captivated me before ever setting eyes on him, excited me to the point of distraction. My naughty dreams of the past two nights had left me with little sleep, though I glowed with anticipation on Friday morning, anxiously awaiting one o'clock when he'd arrive for his dental appointment. Mandy had known the week before that I'd been very attracted to him, and this morning had asked me, "Jack Taylor's on for today, right?" I looked at her and nodded, smiling. "Well, Dee, when are you going to have lunch with him?" she questioned further, playing Cupid in her salacious way.
"Oh, Mandy, if you must know, Frank and I are meeting with him tomorrow about remodeling our house. Why does everything have to be sexual with you?" I asked, good-naturedly but guardedly.
"Because, Deirdre," she said – very soberly for Mandy – "I've been around the block more than once and know what's good for my cute little
bambina
." She was trumping my hand again by acting like my all-knowing, 50-year-old guardian. Then, not really off the subject, she said, "By the way, do we have all his records?"
"Whose?" I asked, daydreaming.
"Jack Taylor's, silly," she retorted.
"Oh, yeah," I replied absently. "On Wednesday I took the liberty of requisitioning his medical records from his doctor."
"That's my job, Dee. Well...saves me a phone call. Could you get them?" she asked.
I said, "Uhhh...sure," and – momentarily rattled – got up to open a file cabinet. I then remembered that I still had them in my purse.
Mandy looked at me quizzically and said, "Dee, they should be in the cabinet in the coffee room. They're just reference files. You know that!"
"Oh, of course!" I said, blushing. Be right back," I giggled, grabbing my purse and trotting back to the coffee room. I spent 30 seconds or so there, slammed a drawer for effect, and stopped in the restroom on the way back to collect myself, hoping that Mandy wouldn't discover my subterfuge. Also while in the loo, I replaced the soiled absorbent pad in my panties with a fresh one.
Pulling Jack's records from my purse, I smoothed out the folds in the papers. Yesterday I'd read them and was encouraged to see that he was in perfect health: no indication of a sexual disease. I handed them to Mandy through her door when I returned to my desk. She took them, mumbling thanks, and gave me a questioning look. "Wanta' go to lunch today?" she asked.
"Oh, no...I don't think so, Mandy. I'm behind and have to catch up. Sorry," I said. I didn't want to miss Jack in case he arrived early, since it was already 12:30.
"Okay, sweetie. And, uh, Dee? Keep me posted, will you?" Mandy said with a smile, returning to her work.
Fifteen minutes later Jack opened the door and walked to the counter as I was talking with Ana, one of our assistants. "Good afternoon, ladies!" he grinned, causing me to blush. Ana said hi to him, saw my flushed face, and – having suspected my attraction to Jack earlier, and possessing a typical Latin sensibility to matters flirtatious – said, "Ohhh, Dee!" and turned, giggling, to return to the examination wing. Mandy saw Jack through her glass door and beamed, giving a quick wave.
I was paralyzed, not knowing what to say. My heart beat like a trip hammer. My face was hot, my lips dry. The sweet pain deep in the pit of my stomach caused me to gasp as its tendrils shot through my breasts. I started to shake my head slowly – searching for a word, any word – and my mouth opened to utter...just a breathy groan.
Jack leaned over the counter and muttered, in airy, modulated, tones so Mandy couldn't hear, "You look good enough to eat today!"
And I did. For Jack, I'd dressed in an Asian style that morning – setting off my Italian complexion – in a shiny, green satin, mandarin jacket festooned with red and gold oriental markings. It hugged my breasts nicely, had a deep slit that progressed down my cleavage from a nehru-type collar to a frog closure for modesty. Its three quarter length sleeves showed off my smooth, olive wrists. My pants were dark green satin and pencil-legged. A stretch type that zipped in the back, they showed off my bottom to nice effect. My hair was drawn up and held in the back by two decorated chopsticks, and around my neck was a beaded, chandelier tassel necklace – bought at a neighborhood garage sale – that dropped to my cleavage. I'd done my eyes in a bit of green shadow. "Thank you, Jack," I whispered, and realized that he was now looking at Mandy, who apparently had witnessed our greeting. "Do we have an audience?" I asked softly, watching his eyes.
"Mm-hmm," he rumbled breathily. "Buy you coffee after?"
"We'll see," I said. "Can't ever plan ahead here. Your appointment's a long one."
"Mmm-kay," he said, as Ana came to the counter, saying the doctor was ready for him. "See ya' later," he winked, following Ana into the back with my eyes riveted on him.
