Having Fun with Mr. Wrong (8 page)

He heard his cell phone but ignored it.

“Aren’t you going to get that?” Lorraine asked.

“Nah, it’s probably a solicitor calling. I’m sure Margo’s working late at the office.” He rolled his chair next to Lorraine to peer at her computer screen. “I’d like to go over the layout with you before I sign off for the evening.”

“It’s really not due till the end of the week. We could continue tomorrow after your last class. Four o’clock, right?”

“Yup. But I don’t want the responsibility on your shoulders. We started the project together, and we’re going to finish it together.”

“It’s no problem, really.” She smiled sweetly.

His cell phone went off again, buzzing and ringing from the holder on his belt.

“Maybe that
is
Margo, you should get it.” Lorraine brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, right. Margo is married to her job, not me.”

“You shouldn’t be so hard on her. She’s brilliant at what she does and very dedicated.”

Lorraine was a born-again Christian and chose to see the good in everyone. She was smart, kind, and ingenious. She wasn’t bad to look at either. At thirty-two, she was still unmarried. He couldn’t figure out why. “I’m not being overly harsh, believe me. She’s at the office till midnight every night.”

“It can’t be that bad.” Lorraine eyed him quickly but redirected her gaze to the computer screen.

“It’s so bad we have to make a date night to have dinner together.”

She glanced at him. “She’s made sacrifices in order for you to get your job here, didn’t she?”

“That was years ago.” Timothy leaned closer, trying to get a better view of the screen, but discreetly took in her scent. Roses. Surprisingly, it aroused him.

Lorraine scooted her chair away, stood, and stretched.

Under the plain shapeless dresses, she seemed to have a good figure. And while Timothy didn’t like women overly made-up, with those big, brown doe eyes Lorraine could use a little
something
to show them off a bit. Maybe she was too introverted, and that’s why she wasn’t married. He’d imagined she’d make a good wife and mother.

She opened a file drawer and riffled through the contents. Her jumpiness around him struck him as cute. Could she be feeling the subtle undercurrents between them too?

“Didn’t you tell me she inherited her grandmother’s house in Philadelphia and was offered work at the D.C. Mutual branch nearby after college?”

“Yes, but she knew it was my dream to work here. I scooped up the research job while still in grad school. The pay wasn’t fantastic, but there was a full benefits package. And the promise of an associate professorship after I finished my PhD.”

She selected a file and brought it to her desk. He reached over her shoulder to the keyboard and clicked on another screen. He touched her hand and let it linger. A tingly sensation ran across his groin.

What was he doing? Lorraine didn’t back off from the accidental touch. She
had
to feel the energy between them.

“I don’t think they offer research jobs anymore,” she said. “You were lucky.”

“The catch was that I’d work for a reduced salary, but the graduate studies were paid for.”

“Margo supported you when she followed you here. You have to remember that.” She got up to refill her glass at the water cooler. Again, she’d moved away from him.

She definitely caught the tension between them. What should he do? What did he want to do?

Tim rolled his chair back to his desk. He leaned back and put his hands behind his head, enjoying the view of Lorraine’s wavy, long blonde hair swinging behind her as she moved about. “In the beginning, she largely supported us. Starting out here wasn’t easy. My starting salary wouldn’t pay for rent in the area. Margo was just beginning her career, as well. However, her job had the potential to make a whole heck of a lot more money than mine.”

“Yes, and like you told me, she became the breadwinner. Then she bought the big house on Long Island.”

Tim undid his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt. He ran his finger under the collar. God, he was tired. Tired of it all. He just wanted a partner, a companion. Margo might just not be it anymore. “I resented it. That she could buy the house and I couldn’t. And the distance. It increased my commute to the university by an hour. The swanky neighborhood isn’t me.”

“I don’t think it’s the commute that bothers you as much as it’s that she runs the show. That’s not easy for a guy to accept.”

“You know, it’s not so much that as it’s how much the success has gone to her head. She’s an egomaniac. Don’t get me wrong, she’s great at what she does. But Margo knows it and doesn’t hesitate to remind me every step of the way.”

“She’s riding high now. But it’s bound to all change with the impending downturn in the economy.” Lorraine took her water back to her desk.

“Yeah, and I dread to see how she changes when that happens. She’s already irritable and bitchy. No telling what an economic slowdown will bring out in her.”

As opposed to dealing with Margo’s indifference, how nice it would be to hold the sweet, pliable Lorraine in his arms. He had a flash cross his mind, shameful as it was, to clear his desk and take her right on top of it. How exquisite it would be to have her legs around him while he…

His cell phone buzzed again, and this time he took the call. It
was
Margo.

“Timmy, where the hell have you been?”

“Margo, speak of the devil. I’m finishing up for the day on the project with Lorraine.” He closed the open websites on his laptop and shut the computer down.

“I’ve been trying to call you. Did you get my message?”

“No, I’m sorry, I was busy. When did you call?”

“It doesn’t matter. Listen, let’s meet for dinner. There’s cause for celebrating.”

“What are we celebrating?”

“I closed forty-one loans this month, the highest volume in the area. And a whopping pay check of seventy-five big ones!”

“That’s great, Margo. Really, great.” He should be pleased for her, but instead the news deflated him. She’d no doubt brag about it throughout dinner. It would be all about her, again.

“Let’s meet at Sardi’s. We’ll make it special.”

“Sounds good. We’re about done now. I’ll be there within twenty minutes.” He shut down his computer.

Tim grabbed his tweed jacket from the coat hanger behind his office door, shrugged into it, and put on his overcoat. “Really, Lorraine, you should call it a night.”

“You go on. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

****

Although at times Timmy could be a little too needy, Margo felt totally comfortable with their relationship. He thought she worked too hard, but her job yielded them vacations to Hawaii, cruises and other five-star vacations every year, new cars, and a gorgeous house on Long Island. They had it all.

At Sardi’s they ordered the night’s special of venison, mushrooms, and broccoli on the side, with a good bottle of red wine.

Margo clinked her glass against Timothy’s. “So, aren’t you excited? We can pay cash for the car now and pay down the mortgage on the house as well.”

“I thought you were going to put the money away so you could get out of this job?” Timothy took a long gulp of his wine.

“Eventually, I will be out. The volume can’t possibly go on at this pace forever. And frankly, neither can I.” She sighed with satisfaction, still gleeful about her big month.

“You wanted that beautiful house on Long Island, and you’re never home. Frankly I don’t know why you bought it.”

Timothy played with his mustache. He only did that when he was irritated. What did she do wrong?

“I know you didn’t want the house initially. The move increased our commutes a little bit. But the benefits by far exceed the pitfalls. And you have your pool room.”

“I didn’t expect to have over an hour to commute to work, Margo. And what’s the use of having a sprawling mansion with a swimming pool when I’m alone in it every night?”

“Oh come on, Timmy. I’m with you every night. Where do I go?” She leaned forward and squeezed his hand. “The commute isn’t that bad. It’s the price you pay for living the high life.” She sipped her wine and put on a wide smile, ignoring Tim’s lack of enthusiasm.

“I never asked for the high life.”

“Maybe not. But you wanted to move to New York City, so you got it. Cheer up, will ya? We have so much to be grateful for.” Timmy needed to ease up and live a little. They’d both made their sacrifices for the sake of a common goal.

****

Later in bed, Timothy reached for Margo. It’d been so long since he made love to her. They barely saw each other, let alone found a moment for passion. Maybe a little sex would fix things. He was rock hard with need and began kissing her neck and rubbing himself against her.

She pulled away and wrapped the blanket tightly around her. “Stop, Timmy. I’m tired. I have to work early in the morning. There’s an important meeting I have to be sharp for.”

He was horny. Really horny. Maybe it was from the wine. It made him amorous. But not her. She usually got tired after consuming the red. He pushed his erection against her backside while kissing the back of her neck. “Come on, Margo. It’s been over a month since we—”

She pulled away again. “Timmy, stop. I’m tired. Wait until Saturday.”

She’d been promising Saturday now for more Saturdays than he cared to remember.

To hell with it. He hopped out of bed and jumped in the shower. He needed to shake off his desire. God, he missed the passion he used to have with his wife. Yet his thoughts drifted off to the curvy, doe-eyed, gentle blonde at work. He imagined her lips around his cock.

Chapter Seven

Carmala finished her yoga class on a Wednesday night and walked the twenty blocks home. It was freezing outside, and she couldn’t shake the chill, despite her layers of clothing. As soon as she entered the hallway to her apartment, the welcome scent of Guido’s Italian cooking greeted her. She let herself in, pulled off her heavy coat, gloves, and scarf and took another deep breath. “It’s so nice to come home to dinner waiting.”

Guido peered up from her tiny kitchen and smiled. “It will be even nicer once we get the new place.”

She didn’t mind the casual way he mentioned “we” when referring to her new apartment. If things continued to go this well with Guido, she might ask him to move in with her. “First we need to find it.”

“Did you make the appointment with the Realtor?”

“I did, for Saturday, and was hoping you’d go along with me.”

“Of course I will.” He stirred the pot of sauce and raised the heat under the pot of water for the pasta.

“She said she’ll have at least ten places for us to see.”

“Sounds like a full day.” He pulled out the spaghetti from the box and jutted his head toward the living room. “Go ahead. You get comfortable. The pasta will be ready in about ten minutes.”

****

Guido watched Carmala carry her wine toward the couch. As he whipped up one of his Italian specialties for dinner, he thought about everything he did to please Carmala. It wasn’t easy to impress her; she lived in a world that he didn’t fit into. He did okay as a master electrician. He made great money at Keyes Electric, and his recent raise put him in line for the next level up, which was master foreman. If he got that promotion, he’d likely be assigned to the rebuild of the World Trade Center site, and that had been a dream of his for a long time.

But even that promotion was a far cry from the salaries and prestige of the Wall Streeters Carmala associated with. And he had no aspirations of being one of them. He was happy with what he did. Really, he was. As long as his knees held up. He was still in his twenties, so he had a lot of juice left.

Yet, you just never knew. The other day—he dared not tell Carmala—he hurt himself doing dead lifts at the gym. During his lunch break, he’d often get an extra workout with heavy weights at the men’s gym. He wanted to keep a superior physique. It was his only advantage over the stuffed shirts who surrounded Carmala on a daily basis. Anyway, he’d staked too much weight and strained his knees. The cortisone shot the doc gave him yesterday barely cut the pain. He’d live through it. Pain made more of a man out of him.

Sometimes the pressure of being the strong, masculine, dependable protector was too much. First, for his mother. Now, Carmala. Mostly, he didn’t mind. But some days, like today, he wished someone would show
him
a little caring.

The guys at work were beefy, no-nonsense tough guys. Same with the guys at the gym. And he could absolutely not let Carmala or Mama know about his needs. He shouldn’t even have emotional needs. Really. He was a man, the man of his house for all the years he could remember.

Maybe things would’ve been different if he hadn’t lost his father when he was a boy. As he glanced at the bottle of Italian wine, Guido drifted to memories of his past. As a young boy, Guido lived on the family grape farm of Cortollo Acres in Italy. The memory that stood out most in his mind was of the day his father told him he planned to send him and his mother to the New Country.

“Son, you going to be the big man. The man of the house. No time for toys. No games.” Papa had gathered Guido’s action figures and thrown them in the trash.

Guido had begun to cry. The slap had come fast and stung his cheek.

“No son of mine is gonna cry like a sissy. Stop it or you’ll get the belt!”

Guido sniffled but wiped his forearm across his eyes to dry his tears. “But, Papa, I can be the man and still play.”

Papa ruffled his hair. “Come on now. Stiff upper lip.” He led him to the rickety wooden kitchen table in their poorly furnished farm home. “Your papa has to ask you to grow up quickly. You’re going to take on some important responsibilities. Are you ready to be a big boy and listen to me?”

“Yeah, Papa, I can do whatever you ask of me.”

“Good. I’m gonna send you and Mama to America for a better life. I’ll set you up in a nice home in an Italian neighborhood. Once I get enough money together, I’ll meet you there.”

“What about Grandma and Grandpa?”