Act III
By Micki L. Bailey
"Why the snazzy duds, sweetheart? You cooking in that outfit tonight?" Roger laughed silently as she walked through the room. He was lounging in the leather chair, feet up, watching television and drinking a beer.
Maggie only glanced at him. Standing in the kitchen and pouring some sangria, she answered, "I’m not cooking tonight. I cooked all freaking afternoon. I’m just walking ‘round playing owner tonight."
She came over and sat down on the sofa across from him. Her black silk dress shimmered in the lamp light, and the sequins on her jacket sparkled.
Roger still watched her. "You look good, baby. Whatcha been cooking?"
"Lasagna…….and lots of other pasta dishes. What are you doing tonight?"
He shrugged and took a swallow of his beer. "This. Watching football. Getting drunk."
"Football on Friday night?" She sipped the wine and looked at him. He wore all denim and no shoes. Manicured casual. Always stunning.
"With the satellite, sweets, you can get football 24/7."
"Why don’t you go with me, Roger? I told you Nick Santucci is supposed to drop by tonight. You guys could shoot pool or something."
Roger smirked, wrinkling up his nose. "I don’t think so, baby. I’ll just hang out here. Besides, Nick’ll show up with some gorgeous stripper. He ain’t gonna wanna shoot pool."
Stung by that particular mental image of Nick, Maggie gulped more of the wine and kept her eyes down. She certainly didn’t need Roger reading them. "You can come along anyway, Roger. I, personally, wouldn’t mind having you around."
Crossing his legs and sighing, he said softly, "Nah……..I’m comfortable just like this. If that’s okay with you."
Maggie stood up. "Well, whatever. I gotta go. See ya when I get home."
"Have a great time, baby"
That’s what I’m counting on, she heard in her head as she left. She’d been counting on it all week. The mere potential of seeing Nick again had kept her going, and the sangria hadn’t dulled her anticipation at all.
Around 7 p.m. that evening at Renaissance, one of the staff found Maggie in the dining room and alerted her that she had a phone call. So she hurried eagerly to the nearest phone in the front lobby to take it, so sure it was Nick.
"Hey, baby. How’s it going over there?" Not Nick. Roger. And he sounded slightly drunk.
Realizing that she was disappointed, guilt washed over her. "Hey, honey. Not much up here. Why?"
"You got a free table for three? Shannon’s brother is here from Chicago, and they wanna eat at the best place in town."
Maggie felt her body tense up, attempting to reject what she knew was coming. "A table for three?"
He laughed. "When she called to ask me the name of your place, she discovered I was home alone and asked me to come along. Nice, huh?"
She gritted her teeth and clenched her eyes shut. "Roger…….You’re home alone ‘cause you refused to come here with me……..And now you’re begging me to get you a table so you can come here with her?"
"C’mon, Maggie. You gonna make a scene? I changed my mind. No big thing."
"If you thought I might make a scene, then why choose my restaurant?"
He sighed. "I didn’t expect you to make a scene, baby. And your place IS the best in town."
Yeah, right, she wanted to scream at him. You just didn’t wanna show up somewhere else and have it get back to me through the proverbial grapevine.
But she didn’t. She chose to act out of character. She braced herself and spoke calmly into the phone. "Okay, Roger. I’m sorry. C’mon on over, and I’ll get a good table ready for you and your party."
"Thanks, sweets. I love you."
"Yeah…….I love you too."
The "party" didn’t arrive until almost eight-thirty, and Maggie had not yet seen a sign of Nick. Ravenous, she gave in to Roger’s pleas to sit down and eat with them.
"C’mon, baby. You gotta eat. And they can manage without you for an hour," he had said with his arms around her.
She was well aware that he was still unsure about how she might react later, in the privacy of the loft, and that he was trying his damnedest to sweeten her up and prevent an outburst of fierce anger. But she put on her most congenial hostess’ face and didn’t feel fierce anger at all.
Not even when Shannon shot her a wicked glance across the table and said in her deep, throaty voice, "This husband you’ve got is so dreamy, Maggie. You’re quite a lucky lady. He’s been amazingly hospitable to me……..oh, and to Simon here too. I must return the favor."
Did she really say, "dreamy"? Surely it was one of those exaggerated-for-effect things. Gross.
And not even while she watched from the upstairs window as Roger walked Shannon and her brother to their car and leaned down to kiss Shannon on the cheek before she drove off.
And what the hell was up with that? Had he ever kissed Elyse or any OTHER woman they knew? Gross.
No, Maggie wasn’t feeling rage of any kind at this point. Only extreme sadness. She’d endured the dinner with Roger and his new friends. It wasn’t totally intolerable. But her mind had been elsewhere.
Nick hadn’t shown up like he’d promised.
And aching melancholia filled up her whole body. There was no room for anger.
She left Renaissance and went straight home to bed, not staying around to help clean up. Roger remained in the bar playing pool with someone she didn’t know. He’d come back in after his little good-night "kiss," and she had very little to say to him after that. She didn’t even bother to remind him to call a cab if he got too wasted to drive home. Never had she felt so distant from him.
Although she tried to pretend she was asleep when he came home, he persistently "woke her up." Finally, she turned over to him and immediately smelled the alcohol. He touched her breasts through her gown, but she felt nothing.
"Hey, you." His sexy, nighttime voice.
"Hi, Roger."
"What’s the matter, baby? You’re frigid."
"I’m tired, Roger. I put in a long night."
"Your new little buddy didn’t make it, did he?"
He remembered. But her sadness and disappointment drowned out any alarm she might have felt. "He musta got caught up with something else, I guess."
"Or more likely somebody else…….. a body with huge tits and a tight little—"
"Stop it, Roger. Like you always say, it’s no big thing."
"You feel like a little action?"
He couldn’t see her eyes widen with alarm, but they did. "No. I told you. I’m tired. Good-night."
With that, she turned over and tried to ignore his insistent touches and whispers. But he wanted what he wanted, and eventually, she made herself turn over again and face him, realizing that he wasn’t going to leave her alone.
Immediately, his hands covered her flesh, roughly roaming over and squeezing her breasts, abdomen and thighs. His mouth followed them with fierce, anxious kisses and sucking, and she felt shivers of fear and excitement slink up and down her spine. Enjoying his forcefulness and urgency, yes, she was. And her body responded to him willingly – her back arched instinctively, and waves of tingling anticipation rippled over her skin. But she found herself gasping with unexpected fright as his lithe body slithered feverishly over hers.
When he moved down between her thighs and yanked her panties off, she braced herself for a brutal bludgeoning. She’d already felt how rigid and ready he was to dive into her. Instead, her moistening vagina was met with his full, hungry mouth, and she moaned with surprise and delight.
Slowly and methodically, he devoured her, drinking in all her silky wetness and creating more. With each lapping stroke of her clitoris, she rose higher and higher as he continued to caress her gently over and over with his tongue. Riding the waves and not realizing how badly she needed the release, she reached her peak quickly against his mouth, pressing her hot center closer to his face.
He held his lips on her until she stopped convulsing on the bed, and then he sat up. Maggie hadn’t opened her eyes yet when she felt him grab her hips and plunge into her, like a huge sword going in fully, up to the hilt. She gasped again at the hardness and then at his driving tenacity. As he pounded her, he let go of her hips and bent over her, perspiration droplets falling off him onto her chest and stomach. When his own orgasm overtook him almost violently, he lay down on her and groaned against her neck. After a few moments of sweaty silence, he rolled onto his own pillow, still panting.
"You’ll always be the best, baby," he said quietly into the air.
Maggie didn’t answer him. His words had made her feel as if she’d won some kind of contest. And if her spirits had been lifted at all by the intense love-making, they’d now been brought down again just as quickly.
* * *