Mental Image Monday

A few hours later, after checking on her neighbors. Noting that the Millers were having a dinner party, her next-door neighbor was in the kitchen drinking alone again. And she’d just hung up the phone, after a successful appointment. She rang Boaz, after he’d responded to her email with his phone number.

“Apparently, our SnickerShane is heteroflexible. That’s what they told me, so he’s interested.”

“He knows it’s with me?” Boaz said.

“Oh yes, I made certain that they knew of the situation. That the meeting was to take place at the tattoo shop. They said I needed to be present, there needed to not be any surprises. So, it will happen on Thursday evening after your business is closed. I will pay for any missed appointments.”

“No… wait, Thursday as in tomorrow?”

“Yes. I need this, I need it now.” She didn’t mean to be so forceful, but her insides were bubbling thinking of the situation, she’d been relaxing, one hand in her lap, the other on the phone. She was controlling her breath.

“Okay, then I’ll rearrange appointments tomorrow. I’ll be free the entire day. In fact, I’ve got to find a suit.”

“I’ll send you pictures of what…”

“Oh, Dorcas, I’m gay, I know what you want.” He chuckled. “What time should we expect you?”

“I’ve arranged for the appointment to be at eight. I’ll be there just before, and we’ll get the initial work of introductions out of the way.”

“Wonderful, I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He pulled the phone from his ear, then said. “Dorcas, thank you for choosing me.” He hung up.

Dorcas looked at the phone and smiled, pulled out her notebook, turned to the page with times and license plates. She noted the three cars outside of the Millers home. Checking to see if she’d seen them before. One had government plates, she noted this one and circled it. She went to the kitchen and baked her best chocolate chip cookies. Packed them in a container for her neighbors. She’d placed a business card on each of them. She’d planned on spreading the joy to the pained around her.

<<<<>>>>

The phone rang about four, Boaz looked at caller ID and laughed. “You getting cold feet?” 

“Hey, look…”

“You are getting cold feet.” Boaz’s elation fell flat to the floor and he sunk in the chair. The four hundred dollar suit he’d purchased from Nordstrom’s wrinkled as he sat against the coat. 

“Well, I mean. Are you up for this?”

“You told them you were heteroflexible. Did you not realize what that entailed?”

“No, I understand. You aren’t the first guy I’ll have been with, you are just the guy… I mean…”

“Snic… Shane,” He laughed, “Sorry, look. I’ve already touched your cock, it’s not like I’ve never seen you naked. Seeing me, well that’ll be another thing.” 

“Well, what about her?”

“She’ll be behind the mirror, she just wants to watch. I mean, it might be strange at first, but I’ve got ideas.”

“Ideas? You’ve got ideas?” He laughed. “Hey do you have a suit I can borrow?”

“Shane, we aren’t even the same height, let alone size.”

Laughter rattled from the other side of the phone. “I’ve got a suit, I was pulling your leg. I’ll see you in a couple.”

“See you, soon.” He held the phone to his ear, waiting for Shane to push the button.

“What are you waiting for?” Shane said.

“I was waiting for you to hang up.” 

“Oh, is this how it’s going to be, I’ll go first on everything.” His breath shuttered.

After a long moment of breathing, of nervous laughter, finally Boaz broke through. “Shane, you have been with other men, haven’t you?” 

“Yes, but not with the man that mattered.” He breathlessly said. “I’m glad it’s you, man.” He paused again, then. “I’ll be there soon.” He shut off the phone.

Boaz, looked at the phone and wondered.  Only man that mattered, why the hell’d it take us so long?

She’d been widowed for the past five years, her marriage had been a run-of-the-mill affair, she’d had three children.
Her oldest, Samantha got married right out of high school. Justin, the middle child had just recently married his partner of several years. And Louis, the youngest had been dating his college sweetheart, he’d shown Dorcas the ring a few weeks back. 

During those five years, she’d started the neighborhood watch program. Sure, there wasn’t anything official, and in fact she’d noticed that in her journals she’d written about some very interesting goings-on, on her street. 

“An idea?” Boaz watched her face change from one shade of lustful pink, to a tinge of deep scarlet red. She was embarrassed, embarking on this idea.

“It only just formed in my head… you, are you… gay?” She said it quickly, “my boy Justin is, he married his partner, when the laws were passed.” She didn’t want him thrown off.

He laughed, “Yes.” He looked at the rainbow flags and stickers hanging around the room, he had placed his biggest ads in Frontier and Rage. “I’m out and proud, Dorcas. I’m happy for your son.” 

She breathed a sigh of relief, “All right, that’s out of the way. So, do you see Snickerdoo… sorry, Shane as more than a friend?” She prodded.

“Well… yes, I mean. If we’re going to be honest here. I’ve handled his body, tattooed every available space on him. I’m running out of skin, unless I can convince him he needs to be tattooed in the obscure places.” He laughed. “I have fallen in love with every curve and crevice of his body.” He’d said it. It’s out in the atmosphere.

There was no stopping now, she was heading down the finish line; she was so close to running into the tape that stretched across the road. “And if I could arrange for a meeting where you could put your arms around him, where you could do everything you wanted to do to him and he’d go along with it, what would you say?”

“I’d say, holy fuck!” He blushed and burst out laughing. “I mean, I’d probably not know what to do.”

Dorcas rose from her chair, placed a hand on his shoulder and walked to the row of doors at the back. “If I’m not mistaken, one of these rooms has a window where one could look in, but not seen, right?”

He’d placed his hand where hers had been and turned in his seat. “Yes… I had it installed for a certain clientele I serve.” He chuckled thinking of the kinkier clients, who liked to watch their partners squirm under the needle. “It’s this one.” He opened the door, showed her into the room, against the wall hung a small mirror. “I only use it occasionally, but when I do, the clients pay a pretty penny.”

“Oh, money is no object, trust me.” Dorcas walked around the room, her hands lingering over every surface, the ink bottles, the books with samples, the table where the client lay, the bookcase, and when she reached the mirror, her finger gradually moved over the thick scratched wood, drawing a smile on the glass. “And how do I get behind the mirror?” She turned to face him.

He smiled and walked to the wall, pushed once. There was a click, and the wall opened, he pulled back and showed her the darkened room. There was a black leather sofa, a table with a small brass lamp on it. There was a phone on the wall. “You’d call when you are ready to leave, I usually open the wall, when I’m finished with the client, the Master exits.” He grins. 

She smiles. “So, this is my plan. I’ll arrange to have Snickerdoodle meet me here. You’ll be in the room, I’d like you both dressed in suits.” She closed her eyes, smiling. “Charcoal, pinstriped, white pressed shirts, and long black ties.” She pressed her hand to her forehead, “Oh, lord… I’m going through with this.” 

“And you want me to tattoo him?”

“Oh no, son, I want you to have sex with him.” She smiled. 

“And you’ll…”

“I’ll be in that room, watching. Don’t worry, I’ll pay for everything. Oh, I do hope he goes for it.” She grinned, her grey eyes twinkled.

“What will you,” He asked and then, stopped speaking. He too was seriously thinking about going through with this.

“I’ll contact you when I find out if they accept the meeting. I will go home and speak with them right now, please do not contact SnickerShane till they have told me they have accepted the appointment.” She moved out of the room, stood before him and shook his hand. “I’m doing this for you, just as much as I am doing it for me. It’s a win, win for both of us.”

He giggled and walked her back out of the building.

The cab pulled up to their house, and the three got out. Diane walked across the street to the Grant home; she looked over her shoulder once as the two men entered her home. Diane walked up to the door, and she’d seen the curtains ruffle, saw a hand hesitate and then disappear as she rang the doorbell.

Dorcas opened the door, her usual fake smile plastered on her face, a noticeable scent of gin wafting around her body. 

“Diane… hello.”

“Dorcas, I’m going to get to the point. Thank you for looking out for me, for my husband and I. But, I saw you at the curtains earlier today. Our eyes locked and yet, you still called the police?”

“I was concerned, I saw that man enter your home. I thought he might be doing something to your husband, would do something to you.” She had a look of fear in her eyes.

“Yes, I was hoping for that, but instead we all got a three-hour interrogation at a police station. In the future, if you see the man enter our home again, would you text me instead of jumping to conclusions? And perhaps you should get some cookies of your own.” Diane reached into her purse, pulled out a business card. “Trust me. There are some delights even you might find enjoyable.” 

Dorcas took the business card, simple though it was, it only had a website, a name and a phone number upon it. “I can’t eat gluten.” 

“Trust me, take a look. It’s funny, just when you think MMF stands for Marshmallow Fondant, your eyes open and happiness follows. Goodnight Dorcas.” Diane didn’t wait for another word; she turned and strolled back to the house, giving the men some alone time. 

Her hand hovered above the doorknob, she glanced one last time over her shoulder, seeing that Dorcas was still standing in the doorway, contemplating the card and Diane. She gently pushed open the door, stepped inside, slipped off her heels and leaned against the door as it clicked closed behind her. 

She heard the faint sounds of grunting, of panting and her hand slowly extended to the floor, her fingers opened as though they were exhausted from holding the handbag, one by one they released the black handle and the coach bag clunked on the floor beside her. A hand shakily rose to her throat, and she moved as though exploring the home for the first time. She was aware of all senses, the way her toes glided over the hardwood floorboards, the prickly tickles of carpet as they swept under her feet and both hands gripped the wood railing of the stairwell. 

Her tongue glided over her lips, as she fantasized about where they would drift soon. Diane unzipped her skirt and gingerly stepped out of it as she continued up the stairs, her eyes fluttered as she continued, she stood on the landing, breathing heavy, thinking about what was happening in the room at the end of the hallway. Her hands fidgeted with the silk blouse she wore, she reached in and was glad she’d not worn a bra. 

She heard the mumblings coming from the room, and as she turned the corner, she stood in the doorway and watched as Jeremy stood in the middle of the room. Behind him was the Brazilian, one arm around Jeremy’s chest, the other sliding down her husband’s left leg. Adan’s tongue was licking the underside of Jeremy’s ear, and his body shivered at the tease. 

As Adan moved in for the attack on her husband, Diane found herself leaning against the doorjamb, her fingers slipping down, the tip of one finger darting between her lips, as she sucked her thumb into her mouth, to stop her moans from interrupting the two men in front of her. She panted, she shivered, and she walked on shaky legs to stand behind Adan. Her hand moved of its own accord, to connect with his hand, and she felt Jeremy tremble beneath her nails and Adan’s thumb. They stood there, just hands doing all the work. They turned to one another, and tongues explored, fingers tested and teased. Soon, Adan’s hands were pulling her stockings down and kneeling before her, and she watched as Jeremy slid beneath Adan’s legs. Mouths were everywhere, licking, sucking, tasting and teasing. Diane had no place to put her hands but on Adan’s head. Her nails slid through his hair, gripping in a quick turn. His tongue darted, his teeth nibbled, and he licked like she was a font of elixir. Jeremy’s tongue traveled along the underside of Adan. When he’d hit a nerve, Diane could feel the tingle too.

Three hours later, Jeremy stood behind Diane; they both watched as Adan got in the cab and drove away. 

“I am a housewife, and I’m happily married. I am a little ashamed that we are sitting here having to explain to you, Officer Marin, what just happened.” Diane looks across the busy police station, her eyes landing first on her husband Jeremy, who managed to look up at the same time. She melted when his beautiful smile grew, his charcoal grey eyes twinkled, her smile matched his, and they both glanced across the room at the Brazilian man, waiting his turn. 

“Yes, I’ll go over it one more time. It was not a break in; it was not…” Diane bit her bottom lip, already plump from having been bitten so many times tonight, and mostly not even by her teeth. She wondered when Jerry had become such a biter, and a small chuckle came out of her mouth as she continued. 

Her eyes darted between the men, one she’d known for years, and the other had just entered her front door hours ago. Two sensual, seductive, sexual hours ago. Diane sighed thinking of those first moments when she’d entered the room, and then she had to pull a white linen hankie from her purse, to bring up to her forehead.  Her voice shook as she said the words the patient policewoman had been transcribing. “I’d just gotten home, a few minutes when I’d noticed my neighbor looking out her curtains. I’d seen the phone pressed to her ear, and I did not think anything of it. I placed my key in the lock, but the door swung open.” She brought the hankie to her chest and felt her heart beating a mile a minute. 

I had given Katrina specific instructions, for Cinnamon Twist to enter the house and surprise my husband in the bedroom. I wanted to walk in on them, to watch and then join in. I understood that it was risky, but I assured her that my husband would be thrilled. He had convinced me.

“I will tell you once more; this was not a break-in. Yes, Dorcas saw Adan enter our home, but…” Diane leaned in, looked Officer Marin up and down. Her brown eyes, the peach lipstick that was simply simple on her pale face. The tiny freckles that dotted her face blended in with the blush on her cheeks. Diane had sworn herself to secrecy. She’d promised not to reveal anything about the cookies. “Adan and my husband had arranged to get together to…” 

She was interrupted by a loud expletive from the officer talking to Jeremy. Diane looked up, lost in what she was about to say and saw Jerry shrug and smile. 

Officer Marin shouted, “Hey. Chuck, could you please be more professional?” 

“Sorry, Jennifer… but, oh man!” Chuck whistled and looked over his shoulder at Diane and then across the room at Adan.

“Mrs. Miller, if you will continue?” Officer Marin shook her head and sighed, bored by this break-in investigation. 

Diane cleared her throat, remembering the outburst, the shrugging and continued. “As I was saying, actually, I wasn’t honest that last time.” She blinked and chuckled as she realized she was about, to be honest.

“About which part?” Officer Marin looked over the paper, down through the scribbled lines.

“The part about my husband arranging to meet with Adan. It was my doing, I arranged it. I had run into Adan at the supermarket. Can you believe it? We reached for the same melon; his hand brushed over mine. And he stole it out from under my hand. He held it aloft, testing its heft and looking deep into my eyes, he… he… asked if mine were as firm.” Diane’s eyes glazed, her heart beating and she focused on Jennifer’s lips as she wrote the last word and Diane noticed the subtle flick of her tongue along the dry flesh. 

Their eyes met, and Officer Marin looked at the Brazilian, then back to Diane as she leaned forward. “Not a break-in, an overzealous neighbor who didn’t know, who imagined a mass murder, not a sexual encounter?” Her breath came in short gasps. She breathed out a few more times and made some notes.

“Yes, a sexual encounter, between three adults, all aware of what was going to transpire,” Diane spoke precisely, and just as breathlessly. “I had told Adan when my husband would be home and to enter the house a few minutes after him, and he would find the door unlocked and just to enter.” Diane saw Jennifer’s head tilt to the side. “Yes, my husband was aware of the arrangement. It was not a murder for hire plot, and it was not a break in, it was exactly what your mind is making it out to be.” Diane took a few deep breaths, remembering the way Adan’s tongue traveled the length of them, starting with Jeremy’s knees, sliding over to hers and then back again, teasing, licking, tasting… Diane pressed her knees together, and she felt a little weakened, her left hand gripping the hankie, her right reaching out to the desk, landing close to Jennifer’s where she’d placed her hand just above the paper.

“Mrs. Miller, are you alright, you look faint… Oh…” She balled the police report and tossed it in the can beside her desk. “Chuck, let’s let the Millers go.” She motioned with her hands. “This wasn’t what  Dorcas Grant assumed. Toss that report in the trash. The two,” she looked over her shoulder and nodded to the sexy, blue-eyed Brazilian. “The three of you are free to go.” 

As Diane slowly, shakily rose from the seat. Jennifer leaned in. “Just once?” 

Diane grinned and shook her head. “Not if I can help it.”

“Next time, have him arrive with one of you or knock on the door?” She chuckled.

As the threesome left the building, Jennifer reached into the can and pulled out the paper, and she ripped off the top with Diane Miller’s phone number.

To be continued 4/8