Chapter 14

When Mass was over, Steve and Barbara walked Caitie back to her own apartment and then returned to the Collins’. To her surprise, as they were walking along the sidewalk on the East Side of Manhattan, Steve put out his hand and took Barbara’s hand in his.

Then as much to her own surprise as to his, after they had walked another block, she looked up at him and said softly, “Thank you, Sir Steve. This feels so good.”

“What does?” he asked, amazed.

“Your holding my hand the way you are,” she said softly.

For him, it was a very surprising and disturbing day, too. In spite of his marriage to Susan, Steve Sloan had had virtually no experience with women. The truth of the matter was that Susie had been the aggressor in their relationship in Vietnam. In spite of his size, brains, and good looks, Steve could never believe a woman could possibly be interested in him. If he didn’t completely ignore the speculative — and frequently inviting — looks cast his way by beautiful women, he misconstrued them. He flatly could not believe he was attractive to women.

The day with Barbara Jensen was utterly astonishing to him. First, he found he just loved the feel of her smooth, slender hand in his. Second, being six feet three, Steve was used to taking mincing steps on the very few occasions he walked beside a woman. Barbie had beautifully long legs and a naturally long stride. His natural pace seemed to be hers as well. Finally, it was almost as if they shared a brain. Whenever he looked at her, he found that she’d simultaneously turned to look at him.

Then, to her surprise — and to his — he said softly, “Thank you, Barbie.”

“For what could you possibly be thanking me?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I really don’t know,” he replied, thoroughly confused. “But thank you ... for being you.”

Barbara frowned in bewilderment, but then gave his hand a friendly squeeze. She found she adored the close contact.

Back at the apartment, she started to strip off her clothing to return to her normal attire: nudity.

Again, Steve surprised her. “Please don’t, Barb. Please remain dressed ... For me?”

With a cute little grin she shook her head and said, “That has got to be the ultimate insult. ‘Lady, would you please keep your clothes on.’ Thanks a hell of a lot, Steven Sloan. I’ll try to think of something nice to say to you someday, too.”

Poor Steve was totally confused by her comment. He didn’t know what to say to get out of the box he had evidently put himself into. Barbara added to his confusion by coming close, raising her lips, pulling his head down and kissing him. “Thank you, my darling,” she whispered. “I think it will be easier for both of us if we keep our clothes on, too.”

After preparing a magnificent brunch for just the two of them, Barbara turned her attention to Steve’s apartment. Unbeknownst to her, in just the previous month, his apartment had been completely rebuilt. When he showed her around, she just drooled. It was utterly magnificent. Its bathroom was even more elaborate than the Collins’ master bath. In addition to two sinks and a giant shower, it had a bathtub the size of a small swimming pool. In fact, it was both large enough and deep enough for either of them actually to float in it. She spent the afternoon cleaning and putting things away.

The apartment, she realized, on a standalone basis would rent for thousands of dollars a month, given its location on New York’s posh Upper East Side. With all of its rooftop amenities it became utterly priceless. Although the unit was a part of the Collins’ apartment, it had its own entrance from the main elevator lobby. In addition to the bathroom, the bedroom was both enormous and beautiful. It had two walk-in closets. The empty one — obviously fitted out for a woman — was the size of a fair-sized bedroom. Then there was a sitting room and an utterly magnificent cherry-paneled study. The paneling was the same as that used in the lobby and entrance to the Collins’ apartment. Finally, there was a fantastic kitchen.

When they returned to the penthouse, the first thing Barbara had seen was a note to her from Susan. In it she told her to pig out! There was a magnificent array of foodstuffs and wines and she was ordered to make use of it. Now in her small apartment — although, she realized “small” was a relative word: it was far larger than all but a handful of standalone apartments in New York — she felt strange. Temporizing, she began to carefully go through the kitchen cabinets. In just an instant she realized that Susan had laid out this kitchen, too. Everything in it was in exactly the location a fine chef would expect. Moreover, not only was the kitchen completely equipped, everything in it was brand new and the very finest obtainable.

This served to inspire the girl. She prepared a magnificent seafood cocktail and then tournedos Rossini for their dinner. The tournedos were to be accompanied by soufléed potatoes and a magnificent salad. After carefully going over the wines she found a lovely Chablis to serve with the seafood and the salad, and a superb chateau-bottled Bordeaux that would go perfectly with the tournedos. When all of her advance preparations were complete, she very carefully prepared a small platter of delectable canapés, then went looking for Steve.

She found him in the library at his desk. When she entered, he looked up and grinned. “Hi! What have you been doing, Barb?”

“Master, is it your wish to have cocktails before dinner? If so, what may I make for you?”

Rising from his chair, he went around the desk and stood before the beautiful woman. As he stood so close to her that he could feel the heat from her body, he could sense something else. She was trembling. Taking her into his arms, now he could feel the trembling throughout her body.

“What’s wrong, my darling?” he asked. “Why are you shaking like this?”

The poor woman couldn’t even speak. All she could do was slowly shake her head from side to side.

Then he said, “And my name is Steve, or ‘Hey, you’, or ... But you get the idea. I am not your master, and I am not Sir Steven. Okay?”

Instead of replying, she held him close and whispered, “I adore you, Steven Sloan. That’s why I’m shaking. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. I so desperately want you to like me ... Or at least accept me ... Steve, please let me stay here with you! Please don’t send me away. I’ll do absolutely anything you want me to if you’ll only let me stay.” Then she hugged him and proceeded to cry with hopeless-sounding cries.

“Did my slave indicate that there were ... appetizers? Did she?” Looking up at him, even though tears were still streaming from her eyes, she rapidly nodded her head. Then he said, “Lady, it may have escaped your notice, but I’m a butler. One of the things butlers do very well is prepare drinks. Now, milady, what may I serve you before dinner this evening?”

Barbara was utterly overcome. All she could do was shake her head and finally say, “I really don’t know, Steve. Honest! No one ever asked me what I wanted to drink. Never in my entire life. Something was prepared or ordered and just given to me to drink. So I drank it.” Then with the warmest smile he’d ever seen she asked, “Could you please make something for me? Only, please, tell me what it is after you give it to me?”

Steve disappeared then returned with a chilled amber liquid served in a stemmed glass. When she took a sip and found it was a marvelous wine she looked at him with a question in her eyes.

“It’s a cocktail sherry, Barb. This is Harvey’s Tico, which is my personal favorite. It’s really very good before dinner, particularly when wine will be served with the meal.” Then he leaned over, gently kissed her and said, “But where did my lovely slave learn to decant a fine Bordeaux? You’re doing it perfectly — and it’s an utterly magnificent wine, too.”

After sipping their sherry and chatting — although the conversation was broad in scope and innocuous in content, both could feel the tension mounting between them — Barb disappeared into the kitchen. When she announced dinner a few minutes later, he joined her in the kitchen and then just stopped, speechless. Although the apartment didn’t have a dining room, it did have a dining area as part of the kitchen. The table — made of very heavy butcher-block maple — was decorated with fresh flowers and gorgeous place mats. There were two candlesticks on the table and everything was magnificent. Taking his seat at the head of the table, he noted that, rather than sitting opposite him, Barbara had set her place beside him at his right.

The dinner was perfect. While he knew that Susan Collins and Colette Fletcher were Cordon Bleu chefs, he recalled Barbara Anthony telling him she could scarcely boil water. And yet the meal was by a wide margin the finest he’d ever eaten in his life. Looking at her he just shook his head and said, “Barb, I thought you said you couldn’t cook when you arrived here. What happened?”

“I couldn’t, Master, but you and Susan happened. With the whips, there was a real ... incentive ... to learn to cook. Don’t you agree?” Then she smiled the warmest, most loving smile he’d ever seen — although he didn’t recognize her love for what it was.

“But still, Barb ... Only sixty days!” He just shook his head.

For dessert she prepared crèpes Suzette. Steve just savored the luscious pancakes. When she served coffee and brought out a platter of fruits and cheeses, he disappeared and came back with two snifters and a bottle of Louis XIII cognac. When he did, she grinned, disappeared, and returned a few minutes later with a Corona corona for him and a very light thin Corona panatela for herself.

To his utter amazement, she carefully bit off the end of his cigar, lit it with exquisite care, rolling it in her mouth to ensure it was lighted evenly over its entire circumference, and then presented it to him. Repeating the process with her own, she sat down, stretched her legs out under the table, and savored the magnificent cigar with her cognac and coffee.

Steve didn’t say a word. Instead, he just leaned over towards her and waited. Seeing him poised and waiting, Barbara moved her head towards his and then, as slowly and as gently as she possibly could, she let their lips meet. With only their lips in contact, it was utterly magnificent. After drinking more coffee, Barb finished by doing the dishes. Although he offered to help her clean up, she flatly refused.

Then they took their brandy and cigars into the library. There they sat together on a magnificent high-backed leather sofa. While Steve watched a war movie on a pay-cable channel, Barb instantly fell asleep with her head on his shoulder. When it was ending — since it ended with the climactic battle scene, there was a lot of noise — it awakened Barbara who just wriggled against his shoulder.

“Did you like it?” he asked skeptically.

“It was the best movie I’ve ever seen,” she declared.

When they went into the bedroom, even Steve could feel the tension mount. He prepared for bed quickly and as he emerged from the bathroom, Barb ducked in so quickly he didn’t even see her. When she emerged again into the bedroom, Steve was in bed waiting for her. There was only one light on in the room. Controlling an urge to jump into the bed and hide under the covers, Barbara came to the side of the bed closest to Steve, stood up straight and put her shoulders back.

“Master, may I share your bed tonight?” she asked softly. “My body is clean and sweet-smelling,” she added, “and it’s quite supple. I can mold mine to yours to try to keep you warm, sir. It’s expected to be a very cold night tonight.”

When he just pulled back the covers on her side, she ran around it and jumped in. As soon as she was beside him Steve knew that what she’d said was true. The fragrance of her body was delightful. “Aren’t you going to spread your legs for me?” he asked softly. “That’s what you’re here for, isn’t it?”

Now visibly trembling she spread her thighs wide and raised her pelvis to provide him the access to her wetness that he wanted.

“What’s wrong with you, Steven Sloan?” Susie exclaimed.

Steve, in the process of rolling over between Barbara’s legs, almost fainted. There, standing on the bed beside Barb’s ear was his late wife. Or a tiny replica of her, anyway.

To Barb she said, “I’m so sorry, my darling! But I completely forgot how incredibly naïve this big lug is. On our wedding night if I hadn’t aimed him in the right direction, he probably would have tried to fuck me in my asshole, not knowing there was any other place his marvelous cock might fit.” At that the sprite dropped on the bed and then just sat with her knees drawn up under her chin. “Now, let’s take this from the top. Steven Sloan, would you please kiss this girl? Now!”

Steve was utterly beside himself but he did what the sprite told him. Lowering his head he started very gently to kiss Barbara on the lips. It wasn’t the kind of kiss either she or Susie had in mind, though. Wrapping her arm around his neck she began to work her lips on his and then began to probe his mouth with her tongue. When it met his, again there was an enormous jolt of electricity. Meanwhile, Barbara concentrated on keeping her lips as soft as she possibly could and just savored the wonderful experience of his lips on hers. When they finally eased apart, both were glassy-eyed and breathing rapidly.

“That was utterly perfect!” the sprite exclaimed. Then she shook her head and said, “Barb, I apologize again. How could I possibly have allowed this lug to remain so dumb?” Then she grinned and continued, “I remember, now. I didn’t want him to even think about other girls, so...” Turning to Steve she asked, “How was that kiss?” Sloan was so puzzled, he had no idea how to even think about answering it. All he did was shake his head. “Darling, do you think you get that reaction kissing any woman?”

“I ... I guess so,” he said slowly. Steve could not believe that his dead wife could possibly be present on the bed.

“Darling, no!” she exclaimed. “What you experienced is an intensity of love and mutual commitment that’s utterly beautiful. And, honey, it’s far stronger than even ours was.”

Then she moved quickly and kissed Barbara on both eyes. “What this woman has done for you, Steven Sloan, is truly unbelievable! Just look.” With that the sprite bounced to her feet and pulled the covers completely off Barbara. Kneeling beside her chest, she reached over and stroked her right breast. “Look at this tit, Steve. It’s utterly perfect. It’s round with a tiny little nipple, just the way you like it. Try! Kiss it.”

Steve was now on his knees, too. Leaning over he put his lips around the tiny nipple that was, as usual, fully engorged.

As he sucked it and nibbled on it, Barb held his head down and wriggled with delight. When he finally lifted his head, she took his left hand in hers and then used one of his fingers on her slit. “Can you feel it, my darling? Can you feel how wet my cunt is?”

Very gently he moved his finger around her love box and found that she was flooded with her juices. But then he stopped, just knelt up straight and shook his head like a boxer trying to shake off a hard punch he’d just absorbed. Unwittingly he adopted the posture that was so common among the women in the household: he was kneeling up straight on the bed with all of his weight back on his heels.

“What’s going on?” Looking at the sprite kneeling on the bed facing him from across Barbara’s body he said, “Why don’t we start with you? The last time I saw you, Sue, you were in pieces ... Literally!”

“Steven Sloan, you’re a monster pain in the ass. Do you know that? You made me absolutely miserable...”

“My darling, I’ve thought of little else since those terrible days,” he cried. “I’ve been over it and over it and over it—”

“No, Steve!” she interrupted. “That’s not what I mean at all.” She made a little grimace. By this time Barbara had slid up to the top of the bed and was reclining against the pillows while the two Sloans talked across her lower body. “I wouldn’t care to do it for a living, but I actually got some perverse pleasure out of screwing up the Vietnamese.”