By Micki L. Bailey

She walked over and answered the buzzing intercom next to the loft’s elevator door. Someone had dropped by unexpectedly, and it wasn’t Vinnie. Besides herself and Roger, only Vinnie knew the codes to get up there unassisted.

"Yes?" she spoke into the little box.

"Angelface! You are home! Can I come up for a minute or two?" It was Drew Preston, a member of their circle of friends. Or, more accurately, one of Roger’s "buddies" who she too found quite likable.

She hesitated before she answered. "Roger’s not home, Drew."

No, he wasn’t home, it was true. But she heard clearly in her head all the stern warnings and admonitions he had given her over the past year or so about letting people into the loft while she was alone. Did Drew fall into Roger’s "admissible" category?

"That’s okay, sweet’ums. I came to see you anyway."

She rolled her eyes. He’d been drinking – not a plus for gaining him entry into her abode. But before she could respond, Drew laughed.

"You got company or something? Since the old man’s gone and all?"

She couldn’t come up with a good excuse, a tactful way of brushing him off. Besides, he’d always been basically harmless. "No, no one’s here. I’ll send the elevator down for ya."

"Thanks, doll."

A few moments later when the door opened horizontally to reveal her slightly-red-eyed but still smiling visitor, she had to grin. Drew. So easy-going and care-free. Her always-willing dance partner down at the bar.

Although a bit undisciplined with his drinking habits, he was very successful in the business world, owning and running his own advertising agency. He wasn’t quite as successful, however, at relationships with women and remained a bachelor in his early forties.

He was especially fond of phoning her and Roger late at night, attempting to "catch you guys in the act." Roger finally grew irritated enough to tell him flatly, "Look, Drew. If I was ‘in the act,’ you can damn sure bet I wouldn’t be answering the fucking phone."

"Hey, Drew. What’s up?" she said as he stepped into the room now.

He wore new jeans and a somewhat wrinkled pink Polo button-down shirt. Hugging her, he said, "You and me and the weather, babe. And man, is it ever hot out there for October."

She smelled the tell-tale alcohol, but he didn’t seem to be as drunk as she’d first figured. "I know. Humid and sticky…….You want something cold to drink?"

They walked over towards the den area. "A beer, if ya got one……..That would be excellent."

"Oh, we’ve got beer. Roger’s an import man," she said looking over her shoulder as she headed into the kitchen.

Drew sat down on the sofa. "Really? He told me he was a legs man and that yours are long enough to wrap ‘round him twice."

She strolled back from the kitchen with two opened bottles of Red Stripe beer and narrowed her eyes at him. "If I didn’t know you better, Drew, I’d slap the shit outta you right now." She sat across from him on the loveseat.

Laughing, he said, "I know you would, hon." Then he leaned over and whispered, "But don’t worry. The secret’s safe with me." He winked playfully.

Was he fooling around as usual, or could Roger have really said that? She couldn’t tell and decided not to pursue it. "Yeah, whatever. Drink your beer."

"So where IS Mr. Cool anyway?"

"Miami. He’s been gone four days now."

Drew slapped his forehead. "That’s right. I totally forgot. Vinnie said he was acting as your stand-in guardian."

"And doing a helluva job too………My guardian of choice should be home tomorrow," she offered.

Their closest friends knew vaguely that Roger and Vinnie worked for a secretive government branch of law enforcement and that both occasionally had to be "indisposed" for days (or, God forbid, weeks) at a time. This, understandably, wasn’t a common conversation topic.

"So……….did you get any action in while he’s been away? ‘Cause I know he watches you like a hawk when he’s around." Drew smiled devilishly.

"Are you suggesting ‘action’ of the, um, sexual nature, Drew? Am I gonna have to knock you out anyway?" She sat back with her beer and watched him.

He glanced around the room nonchalantly. "Pardon me………..I forgot you guys are the PERFECT couple."

"Don’t dis it ‘til you’ve tried it, baby." She was smiling when his eyes eventually met hers again.

Through another half hour and one more round of Roger’s imported beer, they shot the breeze. On such a sultry Saturday afternoon in early Fall, there was very little else to do. Especially, she thought, without your husband.

Drew had joined her on the loveseat to show her more clearly his new, gazillion-dollar Cartier watch. His thigh pressed against hers, but she noticed that he didn’t bother to remove it. His bright eyes twinkled as he animatedly talked to her.

"Four tiny diamonds on the twelve, three, six and nine……….all totaling a half carat. I didn’t wanna go too gaudy, ya know," he was saying.

"It’s stunning, Drew. Really."

"Roger wouldn’t go near it, would he?" Drew peered at her with his lit-up, dancing eyes.

She chuckled and glanced at the watch. "He’s a little more understated than this……..except for those sexy earrings he wears. I bought him a ruby stud for his birthday a back in the summer. It’s the July birthstone, and it looks so damn hot on him."

"I’ve always wondered how a person buys just one earring," he answered.

"I bought the set. Here’s the other one." She easily and swiftly pulled her hair back and revealed her matching ruby.

Drew moved closer to her for a better look, his face inches from hers. She could hear his breathing.

"I gotta say…………this one looks hot on you……….Red’s definitely your color."

And then, in a flash, the unthinkable happened. Unthinkable for her, at least. His mouth and lips were on hers – warm, wet, full, and probing – and his body bore down onto hers. His right hand gently grabbed one of her breasts. She smelled him, tasted him, and felt him – all against her will.

After the two or three seconds she required to get her balance, she got her palms up to his chest and pushed against him, harder than was necessary. He was jolted backwards while she jumped to her feet. She glared down at him.

"Goddamn you, Drew! What the fuck are you doing?"

He stared back at her for a second, wide-eyed, then looked away. He said nothing.

"Answer me!" she demanded. "Is that some kind of acceptable behavior for you? To maul me?"

"No………I’m sorry." He bowed his head and spoke quietly, sheepishly.

"Drew! Look up here! Did I somehow give off the impression that I wanted what you just did?"

"I guess not."

"Then why, pray tell?"

Drew shook his head in exasperation. "I lose control of myself when I drink."

"Duh."

"I’m really sorry." He gazed up at her sincerely.

"I’m guessing it’s time for you to leave now." Her voice was chilly and resolute. He heard this and stood up.

"Angelface……….please, please don’t tell Roger," he said quietly, pleadingly.

"I won’t tell him………unless you got a death wish." Still no warmth or friendliness in her tone.

"My point exactly." Drew’s eyes still begged her.

Now she eased up slightly. "Drew, you’re more his friend than mine……..That’s what I’ll save by not giving him the scoop on what happened here."

"What about me and you? Still friends?"

She blinked. "I don’t think that should be your major concern at this point……..I’ll see ya later." He had been dismissed.

"You forgive me, doll?"

"You’re forgiven, Drew. Hit the fucking road."

He slinked past her without looking back. But then she called out to him as he stepped into the elevator.

"Hey! Did Roger really say that?…….‘bout my legs?"

He hesitated, unsure what to answer. "Yeah………one night while we were throwing darts and drinking pitchers of beer…………It was a compliment."

"See ya, Drew."

She breathed a sigh of relief and bolted the door as soon as the elevator closed. Sitting down to catch her breath, she realized she was partly to blame for the incident since she’d unwisely let him in. And it was true: Drew was unpredictable and rowdy when under the influence.

But she also realized immediately that Roger definitely did not need to find out. It would serve only to make him extremely angry, and that would accomplish nada. So as long as it was in her power, this little visitation would not get back to her husband. In fact, it never happened at all.

"No, I’m fine. I’ve rented some movies to watch," she told Vinnie when he made his checkup call later that evening.

"Diane says for ya to c’mon over and help ‘er cook," he responded in his Brooklynese.

She laughed into the phone. "I appreciate the genuine concern, but I wanna spend my last night of freedom by myself."

"Sure, darlin’. Some other fool might fall for that one, but not me………..I know ya wish he was home already." He laughed.

"Alright, Vinnie. I’m busted."

"Yeah, yeah……..and I’m sure Roga’s feeling ‘bout the same way right now."

* * *

She spilled it to Diane anyway.

She couldn’t help it. She had to know if she was doing the right thing by not telling Roger about Drew’s violation.

"Are you outta your ever-loving mind?" Diane screeched at her when she called the next day. "Keep that bullshit to yourself. Why should Roger know?"

"Isn’t that being dishonest? Hiding something from him?" Her conscience was obviously motivating her.

"God, young love is nauseating……..Grow up, dear. Forget ‘bout the whole affair. Drew was just drunk. Ya know what an ass he can be. And Roger’s better off not knowing. He’d just get pissed at Drew for doing it and at you for letting him."

"I didn’t let him, Diane."

"Ya never know how Roger’s gonna see it. Just leave it be."

So that was that. Diane, as always, was free and forceful with her opinions. And they were usually trustworthy too, since Diane was the "old and wizened" one of the two women. The "young and green" one chose to heed her advice and forget about it for good.

* * *

Roger’s much anticipated homecoming that evening, like all of his homecomings, was a blissful, sweet event for her. To see his exquisite face light up when he first laid eyes on her again remained an unequaled delight in her life. She waited impatiently for him to put his bag down as he emerged from the elevator. Then she leapt into his arms.

"Hey, sweet thing," he murmured as he ran his hands up and down her back. "Miss me?"

"Jesus, you smell good………Of course I missed your ass." She buried her face against his neck and hungrily breathed him in.

"Yeah……….Your ass crossed my mind once or twice too." He gently cupped and squeezed that particular area of her anatomy with both hands.

"So you’re glad to see me, huh? That’s not a gun in your front pocket, is it?" She pressed her pelvis closer to his.

"You’d better cut that out, baby, or you’ll get it right here on the floor." His voice was soft and velvety.

Writhing against his firm body, she whispered, "You promise?"

"Ahh, I don’t wanna hurt ya."

"Then take this ass of mine you been thinking ‘bout to someplace more comfortable, Roger." She kissed his neck wetly and promisingly.

Roger didn’t have to think twice. "Hop up here, sweets. That ain’t my gun. It’s in that bag on the floor."

She didn’t have to think twice either. Forgetting everything else but him, she bent her knees slightly for leverage and sprang up, encircling his waist with her legs and his neck with her arms. He caught her, grabbing her ass again, and carried her to their bed.

She kissed his mouth affectionately as he walked – softly biting his lower lip and exploring inside with her tongue. He laid her down easily, and they undressed.

Moments later, as he looked down from above her and moved slowly in and out of her, Roger smiled. "You feel good, baby."

"You’re making me feel good, honey." She closed her eyes and moaned quietly. "This was well worth the wait."

"Speaking of waiting………I can’t much longer," he whispered.

"And I’m just waiting for you, Roger."

He lowered his body onto hers and enveloped her under him as he drove into her and ignited blasts in both of them. She entwined her lower limbs around his mid-section once again and held on for the fiery crescendo.

Then, after the bursting flames subsided, he relaxed damply on her, and the room was filled with heavy breathing and aromas of spent passion. She tightened her grip around him.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but my legs will only go around once," she said into his wet hair.

"What?" His voice was muffled against her moist chest.

She laughed softly and playfully. "Drew told me that you bragged they’d wrap ‘round twice."

She felt his smile on her skin. "Don’t listen to that smack Drew talks, baby. He’s a jerk-off."

"Did ya miss me, Roger?"

"I missed ya………..And I brought ya something back from South Beach."

He eased out of her, kissed her nipple, and got up to retrieve a tiny black box from the sport coat he’d been wearing when he came in. He smiled as he reclined again languidly beside her and handed her the gift.

She kept her eyes locked to his. "You coming home was enough for me. I don’t need extras."

He wrinkled his nose for a second. "Go on……….They scream you."

After another brief hesitation, she looked down and took the small offering. Inside the box she found dainty and magnificent black pearl earrings – tiny "teardrop" shapes that floated on small, dark, interlocked wire hoops giving the impressing of falling rain.

She sighed. "How beautiful, Roger……..and unique."

"I told ya. They scream you."

She looked back into his eyes. "Thank you……….for these……….and for everything……..I love you."

Roger smiled again, complacently. "I love those legs…….and the resta you too."

* * *

On the following Saturday, the Lococcos gave a small party. It was to be their first together, and one she had to talk Roger into.

"I’m not exactly an overtly social animal," he had protested.

"C’mon, sweetheart. Just this once………It’s just our friends, people we hang out with all the time anyway."

And he hadn’t been able to refuse her imploring expression and tone, not that he ever refused her much at all. So she didn’t refuse him when he wanted to dress in midnight casual – black jeans, black dress shirt with shirttail out and sleeves rolled up, and black boots. Stunning midnight casual.

"At least lemme be comfortable, baby," he had said..

"Okay, Roger. You put on whatever you want for the evening……..but I’m taking it off after the party."

She watched him now at the two-hour-old party as he sauntered comfortably through the room in his ebony attire. The ruby stud sparkled at intervals. He’s ravishing, she thought as she felt her body instinctively responding to the sight of him.

"Hello! How ‘bout joining this party!"

She returned to reality and found Drew facing her across the bar. In his hand was a full glass, and on his face was a tentative smile.

"Oh, hey, Drew. I’m glad you made it." She sipped her wine.

"I almost didn’t show my face…………for fear it might get smashed in," he said.

She peered at him. "Didn’t I say I wouldn’t rat you out, Drew?"

He shrugged. "Yeah."

"And I won’t."

"I’m sorry, doll, about what happened. I want you to know that." And he sounded truly sorry. Or maybe truly afraid.

"You said that already, Drew. Forget ‘bout it."

"Greetings, kids. What kinda steamy stuff are you two getting into over here?" Diane approached them with her low, sultry voice and glanced at each of them playfully.

"Drew was showing me his new timepiece, Diane. Check it out." She warned Diane with her eyes. She didn’t want anymore of the clever little hints – she certainly didn’t want Drew to know she’d shared with anyone else what he’d done.

Diane reluctantly let the "secret" subject drop and chatted with Drew about the advertising business, a subject they had in common. Their hostess scanned the room again for her other half, and Diane quickly caught this.

"He’s back there with that loudmouth from his and Vinnie’s office……….She’s monopolizing him………. all over him and shit," Diane volunteered.

"Well, now I won’t allow that," she answered, still searching through the crowd in the huge loft.

"I’ll go and distract her for ya, angelface………..And nice earrings, by the way," Drew said. "What’d ya havta do for those?"

"Swallow," Diane said, laughing casually.

Drew laughed too as he walked away. He felt more at ease now, more himself, maybe even like conversing with Roger.

"Shut up, Diane. These were a gift."

"But I know you swallow………..Drew told me." Diane’s dark eyes glowed with mischief, and she chuckled again.

Her answer came swiftly and with mock viciousness. "Why don’t you just take Sonny down to the guestroom right now and fuck his brains out, Diane? I saw you humping him over there when you guys were……um………dancing." Both women smiled at each other naughtily.

"Ladies, ladies………You’re the two best looking broads here tonight." Vinnie joined them now and sat down on a bar stool. He was drinking a bottled beer. Imported, no doubt.

The hostess walked from behind the bar and stood beside him, putting her arm around his shoulders. "Thanks, Mr. Terranova. You’re a first-class charmer…..….Now tell me something…………Who is that bitch over there with her grubby hands on my husband?"

Vinnie looked in the direction she pointed with her wineglass. "Oh, that’s Brett. She works with us sometimes………and I hear she’s a real go-getter."

"Well, she’s about to go get herself a little ticket outta here……..’Cause this is my party, and I’ll kill who I wanna."

"Hmmm……Your husband doesn’t seem to be minding too damn much."

"He’s walked away from her twice, Vinnie, and she keeps tagging along like a little dog……in heat."

Vinnie laughed. "Ah, chill out, sweetheart………..It ain’t like he’s leaving with her or anything……..Besides, with your new boyfriend here and all……..whadaya care what the hell Roga does?"

She instantly slapped his shoulder and then whirled around to where Diane was still standing. Diane had a dramatically innocent expression splashed across her face.

"You told him? Thanks a damn lot, Diane." She sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

Vinnie put his arm around her waist now. "It’s okay, darlin’. Roga won’t hear it from me……….So gimme some gory details."

She hit him again. "Kiss my ass, Vinnie. I’m sure Diane gave you more-than-sufficient details. And Roger’d better not hear it from anybody, you assholes!" She glared at both of them, but not very seriously. She’d sort of expected this turn of events. She knew about "pillow talk."

"Don’t sweat it, sugar. You’re safe," Diane assured her.

"I think I’ll go over there to rescue him from the clutches of that strange woman who’s embarrassing her silly-ass drunk self. She’s beginning to get on my nerves. I’ll see you guys later."

She set down her empty glass and wandered through the room playing the friendly hostess. They had a full house. When she approached the small, laughing crowd around Roger, everyone took notice of her.

Everyone except Brett.

Brett, the auburn-haired woman who was obviously intoxicated and behaving with far too much familiarity towards her host, howled shamelessly at something he’d just said. She was holding tightly onto his arm with both of her hands, her face right up next to his, a sight the hostess bristled over. Then, as if to heighten the drama, the dark reddish hair fell across her face as she whispered something in his ear.

The bristling onlooker walked closer and stood right in front of them.

"Excuse me, but would you mind not pawing him?" she asked the woman in a curtly polite tone.

Roger, who had been watching her approach, smiled a smile just for her. He’d heard in her voice that she was merely "pissed off" and not "fuming mad." So he waited.

Turning her red eyes towards the speaker, Brett smiled too. An almost catty smile. "Oh, I didn’t realize I was," she cooed as she stood up straight and released Roger’s arm.

"Well, the rest of the room realized it……..But it’s no big deal…….I, of all people, understand how……um…..irresistible Roger is." Her eyes darted to Roger’s for a second, and he sucked in his cheeks and looked down, still smiling. Brett said nothing.

She held out her hand to Brett. "I’m the other giver of this little soirée. And I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself so much." She tried her damnedest to keep the tone to "sarcastic" and not let it drift over into "bitchy." Roger was laughing silently, his head still down.

Brett shook the extended hand, not knowing what else to do. Her face held a puzzled expression. "I’m Brett Gallagher."

"How nice to make your acquaintance, Brett. Please………carry on………..and reserve the pawing for someone else, if you’d be so kind."

"Whatever you say."

And the hostess turned to leave. She’d said plenty. Sure, Roger deserved a little scolding too, but she’d created a large enough scene for the present moment. And like Vinnie had said, Roger wasn’t going anywhere – she could get to him later.

But as she strolled away, confident that she’d handled the matter effectively, Roger overtook her from behind, grabbing her arm to stop her so that he could pounce around in front of her. He held her upper arms gently and looked into her face.

"Dance with me."

She sighed. "To this music?"

"It doesn’t matter……Dance with me."

"You smell like that whore’s cheap perfume."

He laughed the silent laugh. "You’re so full of shit……..Please dance with me."

So she did. She could never resist him. It was a beautiful, blending-of-bodies, hearts-pressed-together, slow dance while fast, pounding music blared around them. And he didn’t smell like anyone else’s perfume as she nestled her face against his shoulder and moved rhythmically, instinctively with him. To their own music.

"You were pretty damn cool back there, baby," he said softly to her.

"My next line of attack was breathing fire. Not so cool."

He caressed her hair. "I didn’t forget who’s taking me home from this party."

"I know, Roger. I just had to establish some female boundaries…….you know……..like marking my territory."

She felt him laugh as he squeezed her closer. "The message came across, sweets. Believe me………and I ain’t waltzing with anybody but you."

"She’s not your type anyway, Roger."

"Ya don’t think?"

"Are you kidding me? With those stumpy legs?"