L.a. Woman. Cathy Yardley
of toiletries, from his silver toothbrush holder and razor holder (no disposables for David), to the little silver mug that he lathered his shaving cream in, right down to the way he folded the towel that hung on his own towel rack, for his own use. He kept the toothpaste and other tackier items hidden in the drawer, even if the toothpaste was Rembrandt and not something cheap like Colgate.
Judith’s side was almost clinical looking. There was a complete line of Dr. Hauschka skin care, sitting companionably with its almost generic labels of white with a thin band of orange. Cleansing milk, cleansing cream, toner, moisturizer—daily and Rose Cream, for problem areas. Her toothbrush was sitting in a ceramic cup, a creamy white. The toothbrush itself was orange.
She went through the ritual: brush, wash, tone, moisturize. Search for wrinkles, even at twenty-five, even with her moisture-plump Asian skin that people at work continually proclaimed an envious miracle. Remove hair band. Brush lustrous black hair, fifteen measured strokes. Throw clothes in hamper, put on cotton nightgown. Climb into California King bed, on the right hand side, by the wall. David liked sleeping on the side by the door. She rolled and picked up the book she’d left on his nightstand. The Oz Principle. Something for work. She wanted to get a leg up on it—the next few weeks would be busy. Her Filofax was pretty full.
She barely registered the noises of David going through his ritual: long span in the bathroom, evacuating that night’s dinner (in this case, Ahi tuna appetizer and braised lamb chops from Chinois) with a book in the bathroom before brushing his teeth and surveying the wrinkle situation, a larger possibility considering he was thirty-two. She felt rather than heard him checking his hairline for signs of losing ground—a tiny buzz of apprehension before the shrug of denial. He wouldn’t stoop to doing a full nightly regimen including moisturizer, but she’d walked in on him trying some of the Dr. Hauschka. Judith planned on picking up some more bottles in preparation for the eventuality. She felt sure he’d keep his hidden in the other drawer, or in the medicine cabinet.
He lumbered toward bed in just boxers, and she handed him the book. He rested it on the nearby bookcase. David in just boxers signaled sex. She took off her nightgown and panties, handed them to him, as well. He stripped out of his boxers, and climbed into bed, settling the covers around him.
It would take about five, ten minutes of conversation for him to be ready.
“So. Anybody call while we were gone?”
“Sarah,” Judith said. “She wanted to know if I wanted to see her for lunch tomorrow. I think I’ll go visit…she sounded a little lonely.”
“Sarah. She was one of your friends from college, right?” He toyed with her shoulder, then absently with one breast.
She smiled. “She was my best friend from college. She was like my little sister. We roomed together as freshmen, in the dorms.”
“Little sister? Is she younger than you?”
Judith shrugged. He was stroking a little more insistently. “She always seemed younger. She changed her major four times,” she said with a laugh. “She just always needed to…I don’t know. She had trouble getting it together.”
He laughed, his deliberate caressing sidetracked for a moment. “You two must have been the Odd Couple, redux.”
“I helped her, a little. She’s nice. You just want to give her a hand.” Judith stared at the ceiling. “Still, I was really glad that she got involved with Benjamin. He is a very stabilizing force for her. Now, if she could just get him to the altar…”
David looked at her for a moment. “You say his name funny. Like it’s a title or something.”
“Do I?” She thought about it. “He’s the consummate salesman, from what I can tell. I’ve never met anybody more driven in my life.”
“Not even you?” He resumed stroking. She ignored the ticklish sensation as he traced across her stomach, and consciously moved so he’d tickle elsewhere. He didn’t notice.
“He went through his M.B.A. program in record time, but he still went for sales—something about his personality. Very charismatic.”
“The guy’s got some redeeming features, right?”
That would be jealousy. Lately, David’s ego was bruising a bit more easily. Judith made sure some of her skin rubbed lightly against his developing erection.
“He’s loyal, I think.” Even as she said it, she wasn’t sure. “At least, I hope so, for Sarah’s sake. He shouldn’t be long in moving, anyway. A man shouldn’t be left to his own devices for very long.”
“Why not?”
“He’s young, attractive, good income, good car, going places. Women target men like that—and men like that find women who target hard to resist, I get the feeling. Sarah would be smart to keep an eye on him, until they’re married.”
The erection was still hovering at semihard, and Judith studied him to gauge possible problems. This might be a blowjob night. Damn.
He was staring at her with a look that was part fascination and part disgust. “Target, huh? That sounds downright eerie.”
“I don’t make the rules.”
“You just live by them, right?”
She inched away from him, irritated. Why couldn’t he just enjoy this and go to sleep? “I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
He needed coddling, apparently. She should have chosen more appropriate foreplay conversation, but work was pressing her a little too hard recently. She needed to get back into her meditation. With a sigh, she concentrated harder. Leaning over, she kissed him rather thoroughly. “I landed you, didn’t I?” she asked, and was glad to feel the familiar press against her inner thigh.
If it were that easy, he couldn’t be too upset.
“That’s right. You did land me. Damned good choice on your part.” There was that overtone of the cocky lawyer back in his voice. He’d be energetic, she thought as she angled away from him. Chances were good he’d be relatively quick.
Within moments, he’d shut off the light. In the darkness, he felt him reach for her. Minutes after that, she was being pressed into the soft, enveloping mass that was her mattress pad, foam egg crate, and gently resilient Sealy-Posturepedic mattress. She deliberately moaned, getting louder when his breathing picked up pitch.
When he groaned against her, she closed her eyes.
He rolled off of her and handed her her nightgown and underwear. She could feel his weight pressing down on the bed, his maneuvering his boxers back on, clumsily.
His breathing turned to snores not long after.
She put her clothes back on with a bare minimum of movement, careful not to wake him. She could picture her Filofax in her mind, mentally scheduling a call to that meditation coach after her 10:00 a.m. meeting. Canceling her manicure. Seeing if there were a job opening for Sarah somewhere…maybe account management or H.R.
By the time she mentally got to the section of the day labeled Go To Bed, she fell asleep.
Chapter 2
Take It As It Comes
The next morning, it took Sarah a few minutes to figure out where she was. Sunlight was pouring in cruelly through the bedroom window. Los Angeles, she thought groggily. She was in bed, in her new bedroom, in her new apartment.
She had absolutely no recollection of how she got there. Or why her head was pounding.
She glanced down.
Or, to add to matters, why she was wearing her clothes.
The doorbell rang, and she groaned, stumbling out of bed. Well, the door was locked, even if the dead bolt wasn’t, she noticed. Small blessings. She hit the intercom. “Hello?” she