Seven Women: An Erotic Private Investigation

Chapter 23…

I get my mail and look through it, hoping for a surprise, something to intrigue me; it’s the same crap as always. I go to the fridge, get a beer; when I open it, I think of Amelia. It would be nice, perhaps, to have Amelia here and share a beer with her; she could tell me more of her weird stories.

I need stories. We all need stories. I don’t feel good facing the silence, the lack of human interaction, in the retirement of my small apartment.

There are a couple of messages on the answering machine. One is from someone I haven’t talked to in a while. I wonder why she’s calling. I don’t think I want to call her back. The rest of the messages have to do with possible jobs. I drink my beer and look out the window, seeing a part of the city. It’s such a fucking big place; I’ve never really given it a great deal of thought.

I haven’t given a lot of things much thought, until tonight.

I find Sheila’s card in my pocket. Office number printed, home number handwritten. I can still smell her on me.

I almost stop myself. But I call her.

“Were you asleep?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I was hoping you’d call. I knew you would.”

“I almost didn’t.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“I feel strange,” I say.

“Why?” Then, “Don’t get the wrong idea. About what happened tonight. That’s not something I do often. Really, that’s like the second time I’ve ever done anything so spontaneous and — dangerous. What can I say? I find you attractive, and at that moment I wanted you. I had to have you. So I took you.”

“And how do you feel now?”

“We’re talking, aren’t we?” she says.

“We are.”

“It’s silly to play little games,” she says. “We’re adults: we know the moves and what needs to be done. Do you get what I mean?” She adds, “I’d like to see you again. If you don’t want to see me, tell me.”

“I’m attracted to you too,” I say, “but—”

“Is it Tasha?”

I don’t know.

“You’re not married to her anymore,” Sheila says.

“No.”

“And I don’t think you two get along all that well.”

“Maybe that’s it.”

“Tasha’s a big girl. She can handle it. And does anyone have to know?”

“They’ll find out.”

“Do you think I’d tell?”

“Would you?”

She laughs softly, “Well, I just might.”

Pause.

“So,” she says.

“So,” I say.

She says, “Here we are.”

Pause.

“Leonard,” she asks, “do you want to know something?”

“What?”

“I’m lying on my bed right now,” she says, “and I’m naked under my robe. I’m touching myself.”