Cheapskate in Love (23 page)

There, like a goddess of the ancient Greeks, or an actress
of Hollywood decades ago—a mesmerizing spectacle of youth and beauty that
numbs the mind and ignites desires—stood Helen. She was wearing the
long-sleeve, see-through blouse, the one that had shocked her and Joan the day
before, over a barely visible, lacy, flesh-colored bra, with a sleek, lustrous
skirt that fell above her knees. Her sheer stockings and high heels, which both
had a sheen to them, contributed to her dazzling appearance. The wig she had on
was similar in color to her dark brunette hair, but it was much longer and
coiled tightly into a chignon with no loose hairs. It was an elegant hairstyle
that showed off her neck, small pearl earrings, and a single-strand pearl
necklace. A subtle use of makeup, except for the dark red of her lips,
completed her chic, yet racy appearance. When Bill first saw her, she was
standing in profile, holding a jacket, which matched her skirt, over her
shoulder furthest from him, with
her
other hand on her
hip. The curves of her contour were clearly visible. Her chest was raised, and
one knee was slightly bent forward. Some might say that she resembled a
high-class hooker, but to Bill she was a dream incarnate, a fantasy come to
life.

Helen turned slowly to look him in the eyes. After a pause
of intense eye contact, she purred in a low, sultry voice, “Good morning,
Bill.”

Shaken as he was to the very marrow of his bones, although
he now realized he knew who this heavenly woman was, he could only splutter,
“Hel...Hel...Hel,” before he starting coughing uncontrollably. His body bent
over, racked with a hacking cough, as if he was expelling every old thought and
feeling he had ever had of her.

“Bill, are you all right?” she asked in a higher-pitched
voice, somewhat alarmed. She dropped the
cool,
coaxing
character her friends had advised her to put on in order to seduce him. Without
waiting for a response, she ran to him, as well as she could in heels, still
trying to keep her chest high. She began to rub his back strenuously, which
made his eyes glaze with pleasure, despite his coughs.

After a few minutes, his couching subsided, but she kept
rubbing her hand up and down his back. When he finally responded to her
question, “I’m fine, just fine,” he didn’t indicate in any way that he wanted
her to cease the back massage or leave him.

“What happened?” she asked, using her sultry voice again and
pretending to be featherbrained. She knew what had caused him to cough, but her
friends had advised her to act like a bimbo.

“I must have had a hay fever attack,” he said.

“I didn’t know you had hay fever.”

“Neither did I,” he replied. “It was a sudden attack.”

“You poor thing. Let me drive you to church,” she urged.
“Sandra gave me her car while mine’s in the shop, so you’ll get to ride in a
Jaguar. It’ll be a trip to remember.” Sandra and Joan had persuaded her to
believe that what men like most after a beautiful woman is a toy, such as a
fancy car. Sandra had forced her to take her car.

“Uh, I, uh, well, I, uh, maybe...” he bumbled.

“Come on,” she encouraged, raising her chest, pressing
nearer to him and rubbing his back a bit more vigorously. “What will you do if
another attack occurs?”

After giving her another look over, he said, “OK.”

“Can you help me put on my jacket?”

“Sure.”

She stopped rubbing his back and handed him her jacket. “I
better cover up before we get to church. People there are so old and boring.”

“That’s what I think, too,” he said, looking appreciatively
again at her front side, then her back side as she turned around to slip into
the jacket, which he held for her with pleasure.

When she had buttoned her jacket, she slipped her right hand
around his left arm. He didn’t think of resisting her touch. “Gossiping is
their favorite past-time,” she said. “Some of them might say there’s not much
between us.”

“They would say that,” he responded, happy to agree. He had
seen that there was really very little in the way of clothing between them.
Eager to please her now, when they reached the door, he held it open for her
with the courtesy of a prince. When they were outside, he remembered his
mission from earlier that morning and wondered if he could combine the present
love of his life with another, abiding one. He stopped and asked her, “Uh, do
you?
There’s donuts
in the social hall after church.
How about, would you like, do you want, maybe, to go? They’re free.”

Helen managed to suppress a laugh at his cheapskate
suggestion. Although she rarely touched donuts, after a moment of mustering
what simple-minded delight she could, she chirped gaily, “That sounds
wonderful. I would love to.”

“There’s always a good selection, but we have to get there
quick.” When the subject was free food, he was always a serious strategist.

“I’ll be ready to run. Just say when.”

She pointed out the Jaguar in her parking spot and took hold
of his arm again, which he gallantly extended. Although they only talked of the
weather and other ordinary things, anyone who saw them would have thought there
was a lot between them, a lot more than what a mere friendship could contain.

Chapter 25

Before the final hymn of the church service was
over—in fact, even before it had begun—members of the congregation
started to trickle into the social hall, where the donuts and refreshments were
being served. Bill was not the first to arrive in the hall as he had planned,
because an overweight grandmother in a wheelchair blocked the exit from the pew
where he and Helen sat. He was fuming immensely in frustration.

He had carefully chosen to sit at the end of the pew closest
to the door leading to the social hall, with the intention of bolting for the free
food at the first opportunity. But soon after the service was underway the
grandmother in the wheelchair, who had poor hearing, vision, and mobility, had
been rolled up next to Bill, spoiling his plans. When Bill saw others leaving
for the social hall, he wanted to climb over the grandmother, but Helen
perceived what he was thinking and locked her arm tightly around his, pulling
him closer to her. She gazed at him with a seductive, come-hither half-smile.
Instantly, he forgot about donuts. But when the celebrant had passed them by in
the procession out, and the stream of people going into the social hall had
increased, he regained his senses. Pulling his arm from Helen’s grip, he told
the grandmother he desperately had to go to the bathroom, as he pushed her
wheelchair out of the way. Not hearing him clearly, the grandmother was alarmed
and shaken, fearing she was going to be harmed by his crazy behavior, but Bill
sped away without noticing. Helen apologized for him and tried to soothe the
grandmother’s distress, but soon she left in pursuit of Bill.

Helen caught up with him, as he was impatiently jostling and
pushing his way past people to enter the social hall. She was right behind him
when he peevishly raised his voice at an elderly couple and said, “Excuse me.
Excuse me,
please
.” She slipped her
hand around his arm, trying to restrain him, but her power over him was much
less now, since the free, fatty breakfast foods were close at hand. He strove
forward like a burning-hot lava flow, turning to tell her, “Didn’t I tell you
it would be a madhouse in here. It’s a cattle stampede, except for these two
turtles in front of me. I can’t get them to move.”

The elderly couple overheard and ignored him, while Helen
tried to change the subject, “I still think people shouldn’t leave until the
music ends. It seems disrespectful to run out.”

“Tell that to the others,” he remarked. “Free donuts seem to
matter more to them than religion.”

She was about to say in an airhead way that he seemed as
interested in donuts as anyone there, but he rushed on, since they had arrived
inside the hall, “Finally. We’re here. Can you get the coffee, while I grab the
donuts?” He couldn’t entrust the more important task to anyone else. Before she
could say, “OK,” he sprinted to the table where the fried, sugary delicacies
were spread out and already being taken.

A single line had formed, and people were picking up donuts
in an orderly manner from one side of the table. On the other side of the
table, there was an elderly volunteer lady, who acted as the guardian and
protector of the donut domain, sometimes laying out new ones and making sure
the table was kept tidy.

Hurrying to her side of the table, Bill grabbed a plate and
napkins. When she saw him quickly take three donuts, she announced decisively
in a loud, firm voice, like a father of the church delivering immutable church
doctrine, “Two’s the limit.”

“My friend has diabetes,” Bill hastily replied, “and she
needs to eat something quick, or she’ll faint.” He took three more donuts, all
different kinds, and popped a donut hole in his mouth, before she could say
anything else to him. She frowned at him severely, as he sped away. She could
not tolerate ecclesiastical aberrations, especially ones advanced with such
specious reasons.

On her way to get two coffees, Helen saw some of Bill’s
behavior. She rolled her eyes and shook her head at his greediness. His ability
to disregard what others thought when he wanted something amazed her. It was
definitely a male quality she decided, probably worsened from his living alone
so long. As she contemplated how she might cure him of his boorish displays of
gluttony and cheapness, or at least lessen their severity, her cell phone rang.

“Hi, Sandy,” she said, answering the call.

Sandra was calling her from the large outdoor patio of a
popular restaurant in a nearby town, where she and Joan had gone for brunch,
purposefully leaving their wedding bands at home. They were wearing new outfits
from Sandra’s daughter’s closet. In their young, stylish, extreme clothes, they
were attracting lots of attention from men of all ages, as well as lots of
glares from other women. Although Sandra was not giving any encouragement to
the men who noticed them, Joan was having great fun flirting with strangers.
Consequently, other women glared at her the most. At the moment when Sandra had
dialed Helen, two suave, dark-haired, Argentinian-looking men in their early
forties had approached. The more talkative of the two handed his business card
to Joan, while the other gave his to Sandra. Joan preened with pleasure at
their interest and chatted vivaciously with them, teasing them and insinuating
things that kept them hoping. With the slimmest of smiles, Sandra silently took
the card, which was offered her. Giving the man no more attention, she spoke
with Helen.

“So what happened?” Sandra asked her. “Give me all the juicy
news.”

“He had a coughing fit.”

“He had a what?” Sandra demanded. Coughing didn’t sound like
a sign of young romance to her.

“He was so amazed, he couldn’t speak. He choked saying my
name. For minutes he was bent over, coughing.”

“See? Didn’t I tell you? Didn’t I?” Sandra bragged. “I knew
the three
Bs
would bowl Bill over.”

“You were totally right. He’s been a piece of putty this
morning. So easy to talk to and persuade.
So completely
different.
It’s like he never saw me before.”

“Oh, he saw you in the past,” observed Sandra, “but he
wanted to see something else. Today, you gave him his fantasy. Men need more of
that to start a relationship than women do.”

“I believe you now.”

“Where are you?” Sandra asked.

“Eating free donuts,” was the droll response.

“Free donuts!” Sandra cried out so loudly in disbelief that
Joan’s attention was turned from the two Argentinians. Although Joan had a
suspicion about where Helen was and what she was doing, she echoed, slightly
puzzled, “Free donuts?”

“That cheapskate!” Sandra fumed to Helen, not responding to
Joan, who didn’t mind, because she gladly jumped back into her tantalizing,
animated conversation with the two handsome, younger men.

“I know,” Helen said. “That’s what he is. He’s stuffing his
face right now. He snatched a whole plate full, and it looks as if he hasn’t
eaten for a couple of days.”

“A cheapskate
and
a glutton,” Sandra scoffed in disdain. “Such a penny-pinching miser and such a
voracious pig. Are you sure you want that combination?”

“At least, he knows how to enjoy the simple things in life,”
Helen said, with humorous resignation. “And he’s easily satisfied.”

“I see you’ve begun to convert all his faults into virtues,”
remarked Sandra dryly.

“It’s all a matter of perspective. I’m not making things
up.”

“It would be hard to make up things about Bill,” Sandra
observed with a strong dose of sarcasm, “since he seems completely predictable.
How he reacted to the three
Bs
is not at all
surprising. His gorging on free donuts isn’t either.”

“Predictability isn’t a bad thing. It can be charming. It
can be a comfort knowing what to expect in a man.”

“OK, OK,” said Sandra. “You’ve convinced me that you’ve
fallen for him, just as much as he’s fallen for you, so do what we planned
next. He should be in a good mood with all that free food.”