Czytaj książkę: «Dressed to Impress»

Differently
Catherine Paulssen

If getting tingly while watching your man shave made you eligible for a special club of women who could turn mundane rituals into the stuff of wicked daydreams, Debra would have been the club’s founder. A woman likes her man well groomed, after all. For Debra, the act itself was its own reward. Could a man get any more Cary Grant than when he brushed some high-end shaving cream onto his cheeks and ran a razor over them, revealing his rugged jaw line, smooth and refreshed?

Through the open bathroom door Debra observed her husband, freshly out of the shower, a white terrycloth towel wrapped around his waist, drops of water trickling down the small of his back. She regarded him as he cupped his hands under the faucet and splashed his face with water. Now he reached for the brush, wetted it, then dipped it into the tub of fine English shaving cream she had given him for their last anniversary. He swirled the wet tips in the rich cream and soon his chiselled cheekbones had disappeared under a thick lather of opaque, herbal-scented mousse. She watched the play of his shoulder muscles as he swiped the brush up and down across his cheeks and neck. The hot damp air wafting from the bathroom carried a crisp, invigorating, slightly woody smell, making her mind wander back to the days when Nicholas’s eyes would catch her own in the mirror, and he would turn around, hold out the shaving cream to her and ask if she’d help him. She remembered the cheeky grin on his face and how it felt to paint his strong jaw and neck with the frothy mousse while his hands played with her waistline. She remembered the silent innuendo between them as he moved the razor blade closely over his skin. When he was done, she would rub moisturiser onto his cheeks and chin, taking her time, and Nicholas’s eyes would rest on her face the whole time until, finally, he would swoop her up in his arms, impatient to get her underneath him. His clean-shaven, cool cheeks would feel so fresh and alluring against her skin as he whispered sweet words into her ears …

A sigh escaped her lips, and Nicholas turned. ‘What’s the matter, hm?’ he asked, his voice soft.

She brushed the daydream away. ‘Just – thinking.’

‘And what are you thinking of?’

She searched his face. ‘Us.’

He placed the badger brush away and raised his eyebrow. ‘Us?’

Debra noticed a hint of tenderness in his voice – a small hint, to be sure, but a hint nonetheless. ‘A different us.’

He paused for a moment, and his gaze turned towards the floor. Then, without a word, he picked up the razor and started to skim it along his face. Debra continued to watch him and, when he was done, got up to join him. She brushed his back as she moved beside him like a slender cat trying to show its affection, then reached for the aftershave lotion. ‘Like me to massage your skin?’

He rinsed his face with cold water, put the razor away and dried his face. ‘Debs, I need to get ready. Not now.’

‘OK,’ she whispered but didn’t leave without pressing a tender kiss between his shoulder blades. At times like this, she usually felt like screaming at him. Not now, but when? When will you love me again like you used to?

Not today.

A high-pitched whimper called her to the children’s room, and when Nicholas came down the stairs fifteen minutes later, dressed and ready to leave, she was trying to make Levi eat some of his mashed apricots while his brother Jake smeared her hair with mush-stained fingers.

Nicholas kissed both his sons quickly, careful to avoid a spoonful of fruit pulp aimed at his suit. ‘Don’t wait up for me. I’m meeting Al in the club after work.’

‘Al?’

‘Potential client.’ He pressed a kiss on her cheek. ‘It will be late.’

How she wished he would one time ask her to stay up! Wished she would one time see a silent question in his eyes: was it too much to ask of her not to go to bed, but to wait up for him?

Not today.

Today, she gave her husband a bright smile and wished him good luck at the meeting.

In the afternoon, she brought their two sons to visit her older sister, Rebecca.

‘Hey, how are my favourite nephews?’ Rebecca asked, ruffling Jake’s hazelnut tuft as she removed him from the car seat.

‘Happy to stay the night at Aunt Becky’s, aren’t you?’ asked Debra as she lifted Levi, who was bubbling with excitement, and carried him into the house. They entertained the boys in their playpen for a while before returning to the car. Rebecca helped her sister take the stroller out of the trunk and eyed a pair of shiny black heels lying next to them.

‘You’re still determined to go there?’ she asked.

‘Uh huh.’

‘Debbie, I don’t know. That sort of nightclub …’

‘It’s just a place for good food and good drinks and first-rate entertainment!’ said Debra, throwing her sister a reproachful look. ‘I was there last week for training. Everyone was really nice and respectful. And anyways, it’s just waitressing! No need to act as though I were becoming an escort or something.’

Rebecca pulled a pair of long, fingerless net gloves out of a bag. ‘Just waitressing,’ she said, raising an eyebrow. ‘You’ll show up at Nicholas’s club dressed like Hugh Hefner’s idea of a French maid!’

Debra shouldered the babies’ diaper bags and yanked the gloves out of her sister’s hands. ‘How often do you and Dave have sex?’

Rebecca gave an amused frown. ‘Don’t know. Often enough, I guess.’

‘So you’d say you’re happy with your love life?’

‘Pretty much, yes.’

Debra shut the trunk with a loud bang. ‘Well, I’m not. And I doubt Nicholas is.’ She straightened up. ‘First, when we were trying to get pregnant, sex became this awkward mess. You know – we planned, we fretted, we followed rules and got all technical about it. And ever since the twins –’ she continued, following her sister back inside the house ‘– we’re always too tired and, well, I’m frustrated! I’m frustrated and I’m afraid …’ She took a deep breath.

‘You’re afraid of what?’ Rebecca asked, closing the door behind them.

Debra sighed. ‘That we lost it. You know – the spark.’ She looked at her older sister as if she held the cure to her worries. ‘What if we killed it with all the fertility treatments and scheduled sex?’

Rebecca tilted her head. ‘You’re both just working too hard. And two toddlers – I don’t know a single couple that doesn’t complain about a slump after having kids.’

‘They’re fifteen months old, Becky!’ Debra raised her voice to be heard over Jake’s howling and reached for a stuffed ladybird he had thrown out of the playpen. ‘Here, sweetie,’ she said. Then, turning back to her sister: ‘I can’t even remember the last time we were relaxed and having fun and just – making love. Not performing or fulfilling some marital duty or …’

‘Why don’t you, I don’t know, buy some lingerie? Book a spa together. Or you could –’

‘And what else does Cosmo suggest?’ Debra rolled her eyes. ‘No. Me waitressing – that’s how we met. And I want Nicholas to remember that I’m still that woman.’

‘You didn’t wear a black corsage at Ol’ Flannery’s Pub.’

‘Well, that’s the point, if you catch my drift.’ Debra grinned mischievously. She turned to the boys. ‘Be good, OK?’ She pressed a kiss on both her sons’ cheeks. ‘Don’t give Aunt Becky a hard time. Mummy will be back tomorrow. I love you lots and lots!’ She gave Rebecca a hug. ‘I owe you.’

Rebecca smiled patiently. ‘Good luck, you crazy woman.’

‘Thanks.’ With a last look at the twins, Debra left her sister’s house.

A few hours later, she entered the sophisticated lounge of the Connor’s Club. The whole interior was a hymn of understated masculinity, inspired by Playboy clubs from the 1960s. Firm white leather chairs alternated with dark, glossy ones, their high backrests vanishing in the diffuse glow emitted by discreet table lights. Folding screens made of wengé wood divided the room into separate entities. Across from the entrance, set against a wall covered in mirrors, a bar shone under a cold silvery light.

Waitresses at Connor’s wore dressy black corset leotards, tightly laced at the front, with matching net stockings and black patent-leather heels. Debra wasn’t heavily made up, but false lashes and a bobbed wig à la Uma Thurman’s Pulp Fiction look made her feel like a whole different person whenever she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirrors behind the bar.

Nicholas hadn’t yet arrived, and she was as excited as she had been back at age 24 in Ol’ Flannery’s Pub, waiting for him to show up with his crowd of college friends every Thursday night, the highlight of her week.

She was waiting for the barman to fill the glasses for her latest order when she saw her husband’s face reflected between the bottles of liquor staged along the wall. He was accompanied by Al, a red-cheeked, stocky man who must have been a good head shorter. Debra quickly placed the cocktails on her tray and hurried to the guests waiting for them in the far corner of the room. For the next half hour, she made sure not to come too close to Nicholas’s table and tried her best not to ever look in his direction.

‘Honey, can you cover for me?’ Another waitress brushed Debra’s arm as she headed out the back door for a cigarette. ‘Just a few minutes?’

‘Sure.’ Debra exhaled. No more excuses. She was about to take an order from a group close to Nicholas’s table when she heard a gravelly voice behind her. ‘That’s one fine piece of ass!’

A glance into the mirror told her that Nicholas’s client was brazenly gorging on her behind. ‘Wouldn’t you agree?’ Al asked, nudging her husband. Nicholas nodded and smiled politely.

‘Oh, come on!’ Al let out a puffy laugh. ‘That’s all?’

Nicholas shrugged. ‘I’m a married man.’

It wasn’t so much his words that made Debra glow inside, but the way he had said them. She had not heard the slightest trace of regret or weariness in his voice. In fact, he had sounded rather proud. She turned around and beamed at him. Nicholas caught her eyes and, for a split second, he smiled back. Then his eyes grew wide. His gaze wandered over her attire, thunderstruck, and Debra’s hands grew damp.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asked, quickly turning her eyes to Al.

‘We’ll have two Gibson Martinis.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Al, would you excuse me for a second?’ she heard Nicholas say as she made her way to the bar. Next thing she knew, she was being dragged into a hallway that led to the smoking terrace.

‘What the hell are you doing?’ he hissed. The anger in his voice was not exactly the kind of agitation she’d hoped to spark.

‘I – I wanted to surprise you,’ she said, hanging her head. Not the great line she’d rehearsed when picturing this scene the past few weeks.

Nicholas huffed. ‘Well, this is a surprise,’ he said, his eyes bearing into her. ‘So what – behind my back, you’re entertaining random old men?’

‘No! No. This is the first time!’ She looked at him pleadingly. ‘You are the only reason I’m here.’ For some moments, neither of them said a word. Debra racked her brain for something meaningful to say – she’d had the best of intentions, why couldn’t she explain them to the man she loved? Tears threatened to rise, and she gulped them down fiercely, but it was hard to hide her disappointment. This was just like all their conversations of the past months. Or rather, lack of conversations.

The hurt didn’t leave Nicholas’s eyes – if anything, a sort of earnest consternation intensified it. ‘Do you not trust me? Did you think I was having –’

She pressed her fingers against his lips. ‘No, Nicholas. No, I never thought that.’ With a light caress, she withdrew her hand. ‘When we first met, you remember? I was a waitress too, only …’ She threw a look down at her outfit.

He followed her gaze and frowned. ‘I don’t understand what Ol’ Flannery’s has got to do with …’ He let his sentence trail off, shook his head and fixed his stare at a point on the wall. ‘Doesn’t matter now,’ he said. ‘I think you should leave.’ His gaze returned to her face, impenetrable and dark.

She pursed her lips and shook her head.

Nicholas’s eyes flashed impatiently. ‘Debra, I don’t know what you’re trying to achieve with this nonsense, but please call a cab and –’

‘Would you come with me?’ she asked, not missing a beat.

‘You know I can’t do that. I’m here for work.’

Debra raised her chin. ‘So am I.’ She turned on her heels and left him standing there. She felt his eyes follow her all the way back to the bar.

‘Two Gibson Martinis,’ she told the barman and went to take another order. Al was talking animatedly; she could see his watch, so swanky it flared even in the dim light, a stark contrast to Nicholas’s face, which looked pale despite the lamps’ gentle glow. His eyes burned into her when she returned to serve the drinks. Al put his arm around her waist, and she made a quick step to the side to escape his grip.

‘Oh, come on, don’t be shy!’

‘Al!’ warned Nicholas.

Al released a cavalier laugh and rose from his chair. ‘Why don’t you take a break and come out with me for a smoke?’ he asked Debra and patted her butt.

‘Sir –’ Debra began as politely as she could, but Nicholas’s sharp voice interrupted her.

‘Get your hands off her!’ he said, also rising from his seat.

A dour streak glared across Al’s eyes. ‘You don’t mind, doll, do you?’ He pulled her closer. She averted her face as the strong stench of tobacco in his breath assaulted her senses.

Nicholas pulled him away from her. ‘I said leave her alone!’

‘Stop it, you –’ Al snarled, lunging towards Nicholas.

‘Nicholas!’ Debra screamed as the punch landed on her husband’s face. She saw him tumbling backwards, but he didn’t fall.

After a moment of utter silence – it seemed to Debra that even the music had stopped playing – a big man in a black suit appeared out of nowhere.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked, his stern look falling squarely on Debra. He barely waited for her to nod before turning to the two men. ‘I’ll have to ask you to leave,’ he said curtly.

Nicholas didn’t deign to look at him. His eyes were on his wife, who made a show of putting down the tray she was holding in order to hide the overwhelming smile that had forced its way onto her face. When she looked up again, her face was solemn, but the glow in her belly was still there, and it only intensified when Nicholas put his arm around her and headed for the exit, not looking back once.

She studied the reddish swelling underneath his eye. ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

He nodded once, his jaw clenched. Debra shivered. Silently, he took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders.

‘Thank you,’ she said with a tentative smile.

He nodded again, his eyes already on one of the cabs parked outside the club. Debra climbed through the door he held open for her and watched him take the seat next to her. They drove for several minutes without exchanging a word, the sound of the city’s nightly buzz passing into the cab from the streets around them.

Debra pulled the jacket a bit closer around her shoulders.

‘Are you cold?’ Nicholas asked.

She looked up, happiness rushing through her, and shook her head. Nicholas’s face had lost its stony expression, and she thought she could even make out a trace of amusement in his eyes.

She wasn’t mistaken. She watched as a grin began to tug at the corners of his mouth. ‘I guess that’s one guy I won’t be working with!’ he eventually burst out, then started to laugh.

His deep, boisterous laughter was a shock to Debra after what had happened in the past hour, but as she continued to watch her husband emit peals of loud, carefree guffaws, she couldn’t help but eventually join in. The cab driver watched dumbfounded in the rearview mirror as his passengers shook with wild, convulsive laughter.

Admiration shone in Nicholas’s eyes as, still chuckling, he gently pulled the wig from Debra’s head. The cab stopped in front of their home. Nicholas pressed a fleeting kiss on his wife’s mouth, paid the driver and helped her out of the car.

He didn’t let go of her hand until they were inside, where Debra kicked off her heels, stripped off her gloves, fetched an ice pack and ran a cloth under cool water. Nicholas watched her as he undid his tie.

‘Sit down,’ she said, placing the damp cloth against his cheek.

He put his hands on her waist. ‘Why were you there?’

‘Because I’m a woman,’ she said. ‘I’m your woman.’

‘Did I ever make you doubt that?’

She sighed. ‘I wanted you to see me differently.’

He moved his hands around her waist. ‘But I don’t need to see you differently.’ He gently pulled away the hand that was tending his bruised cheek and waited for her eyes to settle on his. ‘I don’t. Please forgive me for making you feel that way.’

She ran her fingers through his hair. ‘I’m sorry for embarrassing you. And making you lose that deal.’

Nicholas shrugged. ‘He was a jackass anyway.’ He pulled her closer to him. ‘And you could never embarrass me. I’m proud of what you did, actually.’

‘Proud?’ There was that smile again, forcing its way onto her face. But this time she didn’t hide it.

He pulled her onto his lap. ‘I should have fought for us, like you did tonight.’

She cupped his face and kissed him, melting into his lips so deeply that she couldn’t suppress a moan of protest when he eventually made to rise from the chair. But he quickly turned her protest into sighs of contentment by kneeling down before her and beginning to massage her feet. Debra leaned back. ‘That’s what you used to do when I came home from work,’ she said.

He smiled. ‘And you were as ticklish as a –’

His words were drowned by her giggles as he tickled the bottom of her feet, ducking as Debra kicked him. ‘Stop it!’ she squealed and wriggled her legs, shooting a pout at her husband. ‘Leave it to you to kill the moment!’