I was angry. Not for nothing, but at almost forty-six years old, I had managed to earn four degrees and was about to earn a fifth. I had been a teacher for twenty-six of those years, from the time I graduated, a raw girl, from university. I had managed to avoid pregnancy and single motherhood, not through any great goodness of my own, but because God was watching my back, and I didn't sleep around, except for that one year, when I was nineteen, and then only with those two Indian boys from Trinidad, and then only once each time. In fact, I was generally afraid of men, even though I had had deep friendships with three boys-who-wanted-to-be-men before I was twenty years old. I had grown up in a dysfunctional household where, among other things, I was the only legitimate child of my parents. My siblings, one of whom was younger than me, were either related to my mother or my father by blood, but not to both. I bore that special distinction.
Now, at almost forty-six, I was a married mother of two, a boy and a girl, both of whom were off to college in a few weeks. One would be a junior, one a freshman. I was about to have an empty nest, and I was grateful not sad, because I knew I was about to blow a gasket and I didn't want the children there when I did. Maybe this was all about menopause. I certainly had had my fair share of hot flashes, anxiety attacks, weeping fits, mood swings, and weight gain. I was not happy about any of these little joys of middle life, but the weight gain upset me the most, because it only added to an already overburdened body. I was fat, and I hated it.
Damaris, my daughter, had blossomed in her fourteenth year, from a fat girl to a tall, willowy young woman, now about to take the college world by storm. Her older brother, Joshua, the junior in college, had lost all the baby puddles around his middle after his first year in college, and had come home with a six-pack and beautiful biceps and triceps. My husband had taken my word for it and had lost his belly and regained his buff. Yet here I was unable to lose an ounce of flesh, and falling further and further into a funk I didn't seem to be able to get myself out of. And it didn't help that Alex, my husband of twenty two years, had developed the, in my opinion, bad habit of making decisions for us and acting on them without regard to my feelings in the matter. This was why we had ended up in this huge house two years after we bought it, with no children and a ridiculous mortgage. This was why we had a Hummer parked on the driveway, as well as the second-hand Lexus that we had before the house and the Hummer. This was why I had to drive for almost an hour to get to a hair dresser who could do black hair. This was why I was still writing my dissertation instead of job hunting in the local colleges.
I was angry with Alex, as much as I was angry with myself. And it didn't help that, unlike most other menopausal women, my libido had spiked, not dipped, and being at heart a moral human being, I had to seek release in Alex. How can you be angry with someone and want to jump his bones at the same time and almost all the time? The interesting thing is that I could probably just as easily have jumped any man's bones, if I found him beautiful enough, but I knew any man I found up to scratch would find me wanting and not even spare me a second glance. So I was angry.
This is why I ended up in a hotel by myself, supposedly taking some time to myself before it was time to go back to work, and before we had to take the kids up to their colleges. Alex used to suggest that I do this, when the kids were younger and I was feeling hemmed in, but I had never worked up the courage to do it until now. Now, when we could ill afford the cost of a four-day, three-night stay anywhere. But I knew if I didn't get away from him, I'd say the absolutely wrong thing and ruin any chance we might have to keep things stable between us. I looked out of the French windows to the pool beyond the flowering fence, and wished I could join those people splashing about or lounging around. But I knew I wouldn't fit in. My body was too round, and my conversation was too flat. I kept wondering why I hadn't chosen a small country inn or B & B, and then remembered that this had been a bargain I couldn't refuse. I sighed and put on my sweats. Maybe I should just go and do a little riding in the exercise room.
I took a towel with me and went off to the gym in the basement. No one seemed to be around, which was fine by me, I thought, trying to ignore the niggling feelings of loneliness and fear that threatened to ambush and overwhelm me. I chose a stationary bike in the back of the room, and set it to the time and speed I thought I could handle without having a heart attack. I did the warm-up stretches I had learned from Body by Jake shows, and then I rode hard for about thirty minutes without stopping. I had worked up a sweat and was feeling the burn in my legs, and the pumping of my heart was making me feel like I was accomplishing something when another woman came in and with her a tall, broad, muscular man. He seemed to be her personal trainer, because he set up the first machine she would work on while she warmed up, and as I moved on to the weights, she began her routine.
Suddenly, I was not in the mood to shake the fat anymore. I had been in the gym a good forty-five minutes by now, and I thought to myself that I had done enough for one morning. Maybe I'd come back in the afternoon, if the pool was still too crowded. I wiped sweat from my face with the towel I had brought and was about to leave the room when the trainer approached me.
"You should stretch to end your exercise routine," he advised. "Keeps you from having cramps later," he added. "You might even want to soak a little bit in the hot tub, to ease the tired muscles some more."
I didn't know quite how to respond to this, since I hadn't realized that he had been watching me, and I wasn't sure I liked it. He was definitely not the type to look twice at me, with his broad shoulders, and what the teenage girls in my high school senior English class would call his hot body and drop-dead gorgeous face, and I couldn't imagine him having any interest in anything I did or said. So why was he talking to me now?
"Are you employed here?" I couldn't stop myself from asking. My voice sounded stiff and cold to my ears.
He smiled, revealing deep dimples in each cheek to match the cleft in his chin.
"No, I'm with Anne," he replied, pointing to the woman he had come in with. "I hope I haven't offended you," he continued, watching my face anxiously.
My turn again. "No," I lied, willing my pulse to go back to normal after that sexy smile, "I'm just ... surprised, that's all. Usually no one talks to me when I come down here. Anyway, thanks for the tip."
"You're welcome," he answered, smiling again, and then, just before he walked away, he added, "If you can wait a few minutes, I'll show you a few stretches."
I was tempted, oh I was tempted, but I was beginning to feel afraid, my old response to all men. I lied again.
"Sorry, I have an appointment and I'm about to be late as it is. Maybe next time." I made good my escape, before he could continue.
My heart was pounding as I made my way back to my room. I was a married woman who didn't know anything about how to handle men who made passes at her, especially when she was interested. Guilt washed over me. I shouldn't even have had that conversation, I shouldn't have let him think I would entertain him again. But he was a gorgeous man, and I recognized my immediate response to him for what it was. Best to stay away from all that. I may have some problems with my husband, but I wasn't about to make a spectacle of myself with a stranger.
I showered and washed my hair. Wrapped in a terry bath robe, I sat in front of the television and dried it with the little blow dryer provided by the hotel. Then I combed and brushed it and secured it in a ponytail. It fell to my shoulders, thick and lush, one of the few things I still actually liked about myself. Alex liked it too, and was always playing in it, sometimes to my great irritation. Alex! I hadn't thought about him at all for a whole day. After dinner, I decided, I'd call him, to find out how things were going. Damaris had her hair appointment today, and they were to go shopping for linens and toiletries. I was relieved that they didn't need me. Damaris had her head solidly on her shoulders, and Alex could deal with Josh's boy issues, having been a boy himself once.
Nothing interesting was on television, so I took up the book I had been reading and stretched out on the chaise lounge by the French windows. I don't know when I fell asleep, but I had the most explicitly erotic dream I had ever had, and it was about the stranger in the gym doing the most unspeakably exciting things to me with his hands and mouth and other body parts. I woke up in a sweat, my heart pounding fiercely in my chest. I didn't know this man, not even his name, and for all I knew he was a lounge lizard or a man on the prowl for weak women like me to prey on. What was I doing dreaming about him?
A knock on the door woke me instantly. I hurried to see who it was, tying the bath robe more firmly around my waist, and wondering who could be there, since I had not ordered anything from room service. I peeped through the little peephole and saw the dishy stranger from the gym. My face heated. How did he know where I was staying? Should I open the door?
"Mrs. Kerr, we met earlier today in the gym. May I have a word with you?"
So, he knew I was married, and he still wanted to talk. Maybe that meant he was harmless and I had nothing to worry about. I opened the door on the chain.
"Please wait a few minutes."
He nodded and leaned against the wall, hands in the pockets of dark blue slacks. I closed the door, my hands sweaty, my heart pounding again, and tried to think clearly. Why did he want to see me and what was I to wear? I couldn't make up my mind about the latter question, and I wouldn't know the answer to the former question until I had some clothes on, so I put on red Capri pants and a white T-shirt. Slipping my feet into a pair of thongs, I re-opened the door.
"Yes, how may I help you?" I asked in my best cool voice, avoiding his eyes.
"Can we talk in the bar?" he asked, blue eyes piercing into me.
