Chapter 4B

Saturday night, they wandered into the dimly lit hotel lounge after a satisfying steak and lobster dinner in the dining room. There were several other couples there, a cluster or two of young women, and several small groups of young men. The women appeared to be young office workers having some after work drinks before they went home. The men were mostly in business attire with their ties slightly undone to show their rebellious natures.

After ordering drinks from the overworked waitress, Brad and Ashley waited quietly, holding hands and listening to the piano player run through his repertoire of old piano classics. The pianist didn't have any spectacular skills, but the music was pleasant enough. Ashley patted Brad's hand to get his attention.

"I gotta go to the little girl's room," Ashley said, patting his hand to get his attention.

"Sit!" she ordered him when he would have gotten up. One of the things that had intrigued Ashley when she first met him was his manners. She'd been amazed to find they were automatic and never contrived.

"Yes ma'am," Brad replied, grinning. He settled back and stretched his legs under their table while he watched his wife thread her way through the tables to the restrooms.

Ashley was wearing a black halter dress Brad had picked out for her in a fancy store on the Riverwalk a couple of days before. The thing had a deep v-neckline that showed off Ashley's figure very well. The smooth fabric fell smoothly over tummy and hips to a very low waistline where there was an inch-wide hem, several inches below the point of her hips. From there, a series of what looked like sheer, black scarves to Brad fell in layers to a point a few inches above her knees.

Ashley said it was a "handkerchief hem," which meant nothing to Brad. To explain his position in the matter, he adapted an old saw about not knowing what "art" was, but he knew what he liked... and he liked this dress. The "scarves" swayed from side to side in time with Ashley's hips as she made her way around tables arranged haphazardly around the interior of the lounge.

He enjoyed watching her. She was a well-built and earthy woman. He'd thought when he first met her she resembled the singer Enya to a high degree. A month ago, while watching an old John Wayne movie about a boxer in Ireland, he decided his wife was the spitting image of a young Maureen O'Hara... with better legs.

He smiled at the memory, then frowned. His eyes narrowed as he watched the effect his wife was having on one of the tables of young men. They'd broken off their conversations and were watching Ashley closely until she disappeared behind the concealing wall guarding the door to the ladies restroom. One of the guys had held his drink suspended in mid-air the whole time. Now he put it down and drew in a great breath for a long sigh.

A movement to his right made Brad look that way. Apparently, it wasn't just one table of men who'd been entranced with his wife. It seemed all three tables of males he could see were similarly affected.

"Eat your heart out," he yelled silently to them, letting a wolfish grin come to his lips. "She's mine and you can't have her."

A few minutes later, the grin turned to a snarl as he watched Ashley move almost sensuously though the small spaces between the bar tables on her way back to him. The men watched just as intently as they had before. This time, they also made a show of nudging each other with their elbows and leaned toward their friends to make low-voiced comments to each other.

Brad's lips tightened when he saw the exhilarated flush on Ashley's cheeks. It seemed to Brad she made a slight detour to travel a couple of table closer to one of the tables than she absolutely had to. Her hips were sashaying from side to side just a little more than they had when she left Brad's side... he could see that clearly.

Brad got to his feet when Ashley was a few feet away. He stretched out an arm to pick up her chair and lift it in the air before moving it away from the table. While Ashley sat and slid her own chair closer to the table, Brad remained standing for a few seconds... trying to give the impression he was looking to see where the waitress was and what she was doing. She still hadn't brought them their drinks. Ashley looked up at him and smiled.

"Staking out your territory, big guy?" she asked him in an amused tone. Brad glanced at her. He wasn't smiling.

"Do I need to?" he asked bluntly. Ashley's face fell. She folded her hands on the tabletop and studied her painted fingernails for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Brad said at last. "I really am... but those men were beginning to figure they might have a chance with you when you smiled at them. I didn't like what they were thinking... I didn't like them undressing you in their minds. It kind of got to me when you smiled right at them... sorry."

"Brad, honey," Ashley said after a bit. She reached out to put her right hand on his. She could feel the tension in him.

"Honey, look... men have been watching me since I was twelve-years-old. I can't stop them. You know that. If I started carrying a gun and took potshots at them every time they looked my way, they'd still do it, wouldn't they?" Brad nodded reluctantly. She was right, but...

"Ash... it's not that... not completely. It's how you acted when you saw them watching. You smiled right at them and walked a little sexier... and for a little bit there, you gave them the show they were looking for. You know what I mean?"

The waitress finally brought them their drinks and Brad paid her, tipping her far more than the service was worth so she'd go away quicker. She went, showing him a tired smile. She had more customers this evening than she could handle.

"Yeah," Ashley sighed after a while, "I know what you mean... and you're right, Brad, I did like the attention and I know exactly how to put a little more into my walk than God intended. I like to do that, honey. I admit it." She tried to explain.

"Honey, it's kind of like telling them, yeah... I'm one hell of a woman, and don't you forget it... and I'm saying eat your hearts out, boys... you ain't never gonna get a piece of this 'cause I got my man..."

Her voice trailed off and faded into nothing.

Brad jumped a little when his wife echoed the words he'd used in his silent declaration to the roomful of men earlier. Sometimes he believed Ashley could read his mind. The similarity in the words they'd used brought him up short. He let out a deep breath and took in another.

"Yeah, I do know what you're saying, Ash, honey," he said in a lighter tone. Ashley looked up hopefully.

"I'm really, really, sorry," Brad apologized, bringing his wife's right hand up and kissing her fingertips. "Sometimes, I forget and a little jealousy sneaks up behind me and whups me up alongside the haid... know what I mean?"

He grinned at his wife. She smiled back. They listened to the piano as the pianist belted out a livelier tune.

"You do it too," she told him, leaning close to whisper in his ear. Brad was astonished.

"I do what?"

"Look at women... and enjoy them looking back," she explained.

"I do not!" Brad said hotly, trying not to raise his voice.

"So your eyes didn't wander all over that group of college girls on the Riverwalk the other day, sweetie? You didn't tune out the ones who looked like they could play linebacker for the Cowboys and let yourself imagine what some of those cute ones looked like under those floppy warm-ups? You didn't smile just a little nicer to the pretty little waitress in that sandwich shop where we had lunch yesterday than you did to... oh, say the wrinkled old lady in the restaurant a little while ago?"

Ashley's voice had taken on an edge, but not for the reason Brad thought.

"I..." he said and stopped to go back over the things Ashley had brought up. He sipped at his bourbon for a little more time.

"I guess I might have... a little," he admitted cautiously. His wife snorted.

"Well..." Brad began an explanation of what he meant but he realized he was very close to whining. He hated that.

"Well, I didn't make my hips go back and forth like that and..."

"Only because you can't make your hips go back and forth," Ashley retorted before Brad could finish. Brad shut up and considered. This was getting out of hand. He didn't want to argue with his wife and he'd already given up and agreed with her... as much as he could anyway.

"Brad, honey," Ashley said, "would you go to the bar and get us some napkins?"

"Sure, hun," Brad answered. He welcomed the break. Maybe it would give them both enough time to squash this discussion back in its hole.

He stood and adjusted his pants so they hung just a little better from his waist. Ashley had gotten them for him the same day he pointed at the little black dress in the store and told her he wanted her to buy it.

Passing one of the groups of young women, he glanced down and nodded when one of the women locked eyes with him. He saw she had on a sky blue blouse with at least one more button unfastened than a good boss would have allowed in the office. He couldn't see anything below the waist, but her upper body was trim enough.

"Yes sir..." the bartender said, returning the smile Brad had on his face as he approached. "What can I get ya?" he asked.

"Just a few napkins, if you can," Brad replied. "The ones we have are a little damp."