Caveat Emptor and Other Stories Read Online Free Page B

his body in silken hues, shadows to be stroked to find their depth.
    As he moved toward the table, Sylvia creased a dollar bill and waved it over Anne’s head. “Over here!” she called.
    Perplexed, Anne frowned across the table. When Sylvia grinned and pointed, she turned back to see the young man dancing directly in front of her. Blue eyes crinkled in amusement. The dimples back again. And the wondrously unclad body, close enough that she could see the faint sheen of sweat. Feathery blond hair. Muscles that swooped like snow-covered hills. Hard thighs. The mysterious khaki bulge.
    Despite the sudden grip of numbness, a wave of Novocain that flooded her chest and froze her lungs, she felt the dollar bill in her hand. The man slowly pulled her to her feet. All around them, women were bellowing in approval, their hands banging the tabletops and their feet pounding the floor. The music seemed to grow louder, a primitive command from a wild and unknown place. The young man curled a finger for Anne to move closer to him. Then, before she could consider her actions, she found herself sliding the bill under the narrow strap that supported his only item of clothing. Her fingers brushed his skin. A baby’s skin.
    He leaned down and caught her head in his hands. His deliberate kiss caught her by surprise, stunned her into acquiescence, and then, as his lips lingered, into unintentional cooperation. When she felt as if she were losing herself in a tunnel of heat, he eased away and met her eyes. After another disturbing wink, he danced away to collect the dollar bills that now waved like pennants all over the room.
    â€œSit down!” Bitsy snapped. “Everyone’s staring at you. I want you to know that I am simply disgusted with you, Anne. And both of you too,” she added to Sylvia and Marjorie. “I’ve had more of this than I can bear. I’m going home.”
    Anne wiggled her hand in farewell, but she could not unlock her eyes from the young blond dancer. Coals had been lit deep within her; they flamed and glowed, painfully. Her body ached for him. And he seemed to remain aware of her even as he accepted dollars and gave kisses to the screaming women crowding the edge of the stage.
    Then, with a dimpled smile and a wink she felt was hers, he left the stage. The emcee introduced a dark-haired young man in a sequined cape, who began to produce gyrations with his hips as he paraded around the stage.
    Anne looked at the dressing-room door in one corner of the room. “Will he be back?” she asked Sylvia.
    â€œProbably. I could see you liked what you saw, Anne. You’d better not tell Paul too much about this when he gets home Sunday. He may not approve of his wife kissing a male stripper.”
    Marjorie sighed. “What was it like, Anne?”
    â€œJust a kiss.” But such a kiss. Soft lips and a faint hint of after-shave. A kiss more innocent than a high-school sweetheart’s, but promising more than any boy could offer. A cherub without a robe. Every mother’s son, every woman’s lover. The ache increased until she felt as if she might slip into a fantasy of such erotic delight that she would never willingly return.
    â€œLooks like our Annie is in love,” Sylvia said. She pulled out another dollar bill and waved it over Marjorie’s head. “Let’s see if we can share the good fortune.”
    While Marjorie laughingly protested and tried to hide, Anne forced herself to watch the man on stage, who was nearing the same state of undress his predecessor had achieved. It did nothing to distract her from the memory of the kiss. She was startled when a waiter tapped her on the shoulder and handed her a folded note. He nodded in the direction of the dressing-room door and left.
    Would she wait for “D” after the show?
    There was a bit more, but she could hardly see the written letters. Would she? Did she dare? Anne Carter, wife of a lawyer,