I kicked off the slingbacks and threw my shaking body on the bed. Oh my God, I had kissed a total stranger, and only my very Victorian upbringing had stopped me from begging him to come in and take more than my mouth. This was never supposed to happen. I didn't want to have an affair. I wanted to be faithful to Alex. Oh God, Alex! I hadn't called him all day. And I couldn't call him now, not in this state. He'd know something was up, and he wouldn't rest until he found out what it was.
I scrambled off the bed, in a fit of nervous energy, and stripped down to my birthday suit. The person who stared back at me in the full length mirror on the closet door was tall for a woman, five nine to be exact, fair skinned and chubby. Her breasts had lost their youthful perkiness, and her belly was not flat, had never been, in fact. I turned sideways and viewed my rear end. Wide hips and a full bottom did nothing to change my view that I was fat and certainly not comely. So why, I wondered in a panic, as I entered the bathroom, was Ben Mandeville interested in me? Most men I knew only paid attention to women who were svelte and sexy, and nothing about my body even hinted at that description.
More importantly, I realized, was the question of how I was to extricate myself from the situation I had put myself in by entertaining a perfect stranger, no pun intended. I tried to wash away the feel of Ben's hands from my shoulders and back, and of his lips on my face. But no amount of scrubbing could take away the feel of his mouth on mine. I brushed my teeth vigorously, hoping the taste of toothpaste, that normally I hated, would replace the taste of his tongue in my mouth. I hadn't realized, till I let him kiss me, how miserable I had become with Alex, and now I knew I needed to do something about it if I was to salvage our marriage. I thought, as I rubbed lotion into my skin, that it was a good thing I didn't know where Ben lived or how to contact him. Until I was firmly back on my emotional feet, I needed to keep as far away from him as I could.
Feeling more in control than when I first came in, I picked up my cell phone and dialed home. The phone rang three times, and on the fourth ring, the answering machine picked up. I heard my voice and hung up. It was eleven o'clock; I'd try again at midnight. There was still nothing on television, except soft porn and reruns. I shut it off and picked up the book I had fallen asleep over earlier in the day. Perhaps I was too keyed up, but the book did not hold my attention, and I finally gave it up after a half hour's struggle. Now I had thirty minutes to wait before I tried calling home again. I shut the lights off and lay in bed, wishing I could relax, but every sensual minute of my evening with Ben played over and over again in the movie theater of my mind, seeming more and more lurid with each play.
Ben, the man who, at any other time, would have been just what I needed. Ben, the man about whom I knew about as much as I knew about my dentist, for whom I harbored nothing like the emotions I was struggling to suppress now. Ben, who touched every sexual nerve in my body with his killer dimpled smile, his deep voice, his tall, broad-shouldered, muscled body, his sensual good looks, the knowing way he made love to me without touching me. How was I going to get on with my life if I couldn't get him off my mind?
I suddenly recalled that he had sent me flowers, yellow flowers for friendship, the card had said, and I hadn't thanked him for them. I'll write a note and leave it at the front desk, I decided. So I sat up in bed, switched one bedside light on, and used the hotel stationery to compose my note. I noticed the chocolate confection he had bought me for dessert and spooned it into my mouth as I wrote.
"Dear Ben," the note began, "thanks for the flowers. Here's to friendship. Bronwyn Kerr." Or how about "Ben, the flowers are lovely. To friendship. Bronwyn." Or maybe just "Thank you for the lovely flowers. Bronwyn Kerr." I thought the last one sounded more like my style, so I rewrote it carefully, stuck it in an envelope, and sealed it. I wrote "Dr. Benjamin Mandeville" on the envelope, and placed it carefully on top of the television, next to the key card. I knew I wouldn't forget it that way. Then I sat down to wait to make my call again. At midnight when I called, I heard my voice again on the answering machine, and I became a little disquieted. However, this time I left a message. "Hi, it's mom at midnight. I'll call again in the morning." I called Alex's cell phone but it went directly to the answering machine. I left a message there too.
My dreams were troubled that night, mixing Ben and Alex in an explosive combination that always had both men beating each other to a pulp, or otherwise hurting each other badly, while I stood helplessly by and bawled. I was powerless to keep them away from each other, and they inevitably destroyed each other. In the last nightmare before dawn, Alex blew up Ben's car with him in it. I woke up crying hysterically, and could not stop. It took me a good five minutes to realize it had all been a dream. By the time I was sufficiently awake and aware, the sun had begun to peep up from the horizon. I washed my puffy face, brushed my teeth, and called home again. Still no answer. Now I was really worried. Where could they be? What if something had happened to Alex? To the kids? My cell phone rang, and I jumped to pick it up.
"Hi, honey," Alex's warm voice said in my ear. "We ate out last night and took in a late movie. Dad and kids bonding. So we were asleep just now when you called. How are you?"
"I'm fine," I lied. "Missing you all, but I really did need this time away. I'm allowed to do absolutely nothing all day long, if I want." I tried to inject enthusiasm into my voice, so he wouldn't guess there was anything wrong.
"I was planning to come up last night for a little time alone with you," his voice became low and sultry, "but I was too tired to drive when we finally got home. The kids had me out all afternoon shopping. Maybe I'll come by today, and we can come home together tomorrow."
I hesitated for the fraction of a second, and then said, "Just make sure you call me so I'll be here when you get here. I was thinking of doing some touristy things today." My face flamed at the way I had already learned to dissemble.
"I can't come up before noon, anyway, since I have a meeting with the boss. I'll call you when I'm on the road. Love you, honey," he ended.
"Love you, too, Alex," I said, wondering if that was another lie.
Because I hadn't slept well and had tossed and turned for most of the night, I had awakened feeling slightly sore. I remembered that I had been in the gym yesterday working out, and I had planned to go back this morning, but I was too afraid to run into Ben Mandeville again, and I needed to stay as far away from him as I could. So instead, I called room service and ordered juice, rolls and butter and hot chocolate for breakfast. Then I took a shower, and slipped on a thin blue boat-necked summer dress and sandals. I brushed my hair, left it hanging about my shoulders, and put gold hoops in my ears. I was switching channels on the television when the doorbell rang and I heard "Room service!" I opened the door without checking first and Ben stood there with my breakfast tray in his hands. He walked past me into the room and put the tray down on the table by the TV. He was dressed in dark blue sweats that matched his eyes.
