She was more worried Clem had found her out. He pulled off his shoes and sat on the side of the bathtub.
“Britney had already seen my Power Point presentation for the direction I want to take the agency next year. He loved it. That guy carries a lot of clout so it’s good to have him in my corner. Any of that merlot left?”
“On the kitchen counter.” Clem headed downstairs. “Clem?” Tara called out.
“What?”
“I love you, honey.”
“Ditto.”
Tara slid her shoulders back under the foamy water, relieved that Clem wasn’t mad at her and that he hadn’t figured out her ulterior motive. Seemed he was in a good mood for a change, too. A rare occurrence indeed. Maybe things on Dunkirk Crescent weren’t so bad after all. A warm and fuzzy feeling drifted through Tara. Okay, maybe she was a little drunk but so what? She felt good.
By the time Clem came back up to the bedroom, Tara was already in bed asleep. Maybe Clem might have had carnal thoughts on his mind but that wasn’t going to happen now. He got undressed quietly and got into bed. Leaning over, he gently kissed Tara on her brow so he wouldn’t wake her, and then rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp and go to sleep. Tara turned over slowly and sleepily to snuggle up a little closer to Clem. As they spooned together silently in the dark, she slid her arm around his stomach. She felt a slightly raised bump on his skin.
“No more squash,” she whispered.
Next morning, Tara was feeling particularly perky as she stood over by the toaster waiting for her hot cinnamon bagel to pop up. Clem walked into the kitchen, immaculately dressed as always and in Tara’s eyes looking even more handsome than usual. Clem was carrying a dark blue suit.
“Morning, honey.” Clem dumped the suit on the counter. “Can you drop this at the dry cleaners today, sweetie?”
“Sure. I’ll take it in this morning.”
The toaster dinged and the two bagel halves popped up, filling the kitchen with a delicious cinnamon aroma. Clem leaned across Tara, grabbing one of the halves and pecking her on the cheek.
“Thanks. See you later.” Clem headed for the garage.
“What about dinner tonight?” Tara called out.
“I’ll call you later!” Clem shouted back. Well, at least that was better than ‘don’t wait up.’
Tara’s Lexus pulled into a parking space outside Cho’s Dry Cleaners. She felt good that Clem’s mood seemed so much lighter than it had been over the previous three nights. Obviously, the dinner with Hank Britney had given him a sense of security which had also alleviated Tara’s sense of insecurity. How quickly feelings can change over the shortest time, Tara thought.
Tara grabbed Clem’s suit and walked into see Mrs. Cho, an elderly Chinese woman who had apparently lost the ability to smile many years ago. She appeared through a rack full of cellophane wrapped garments with a pen behind her ear. Tara dumped the suit down on the counter and gave Mrs. Cho a particularly big smile, which had absolutely no effect on the Asian laundry owner’s po-faced demeanor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cho. I need this by tomorrow, please.”
“Okay. Drew, right?”
“Yes, Tara Drew. Oh, wait…” Tara quickly checked the jacket and pants pockets. “My husband always forgets to empty his pockets,” Tara smiled, finding nothing. “Well, he proved me wrong for once.”
She handed over the suit to Mrs. Cho who checked the jacket’s lapel pocket that Tara had missed. Mrs. Cho handed a business card to Tara.
“Check all pockets.”
Tara looked at the white business card while Mrs. Cho took Clem’s suit to the back of the shop. It was a rather nondescript card with just a name, number and description printed in black Garamond type: Mistress Krystal – Professional Services - 952-941-5051.
Tara stared at it then flipped it over. Handwritten on the back in Clem’s distinctive handwriting was written ‘Tuesday, 5pm’.
As Tara drove home she felt numb
“Britney had already seen my Power Point presentation for the direction I want to take the agency next year. He loved it. That guy carries a lot of clout so it’s good to have him in my corner. Any of that merlot left?”
“On the kitchen counter.” Clem headed downstairs. “Clem?” Tara called out.
“What?”
“I love you, honey.”
“Ditto.”
Tara slid her shoulders back under the foamy water, relieved that Clem wasn’t mad at her and that he hadn’t figured out her ulterior motive. Seemed he was in a good mood for a change, too. A rare occurrence indeed. Maybe things on Dunkirk Crescent weren’t so bad after all. A warm and fuzzy feeling drifted through Tara. Okay, maybe she was a little drunk but so what? She felt good.
By the time Clem came back up to the bedroom, Tara was already in bed asleep. Maybe Clem might have had carnal thoughts on his mind but that wasn’t going to happen now. He got undressed quietly and got into bed. Leaning over, he gently kissed Tara on her brow so he wouldn’t wake her, and then rolled over to turn off the bedside lamp and go to sleep. Tara turned over slowly and sleepily to snuggle up a little closer to Clem. As they spooned together silently in the dark, she slid her arm around his stomach. She felt a slightly raised bump on his skin.
“No more squash,” she whispered.
Next morning, Tara was feeling particularly perky as she stood over by the toaster waiting for her hot cinnamon bagel to pop up. Clem walked into the kitchen, immaculately dressed as always and in Tara’s eyes looking even more handsome than usual. Clem was carrying a dark blue suit.
“Morning, honey.” Clem dumped the suit on the counter. “Can you drop this at the dry cleaners today, sweetie?”
“Sure. I’ll take it in this morning.”
The toaster dinged and the two bagel halves popped up, filling the kitchen with a delicious cinnamon aroma. Clem leaned across Tara, grabbing one of the halves and pecking her on the cheek.
“Thanks. See you later.” Clem headed for the garage.
“What about dinner tonight?” Tara called out.
“I’ll call you later!” Clem shouted back. Well, at least that was better than ‘don’t wait up.’
Tara’s Lexus pulled into a parking space outside Cho’s Dry Cleaners. She felt good that Clem’s mood seemed so much lighter than it had been over the previous three nights. Obviously, the dinner with Hank Britney had given him a sense of security which had also alleviated Tara’s sense of insecurity. How quickly feelings can change over the shortest time, Tara thought.
Tara grabbed Clem’s suit and walked into see Mrs. Cho, an elderly Chinese woman who had apparently lost the ability to smile many years ago. She appeared through a rack full of cellophane wrapped garments with a pen behind her ear. Tara dumped the suit down on the counter and gave Mrs. Cho a particularly big smile, which had absolutely no effect on the Asian laundry owner’s po-faced demeanor.
“Good morning, Mrs. Cho. I need this by tomorrow, please.”
“Okay. Drew, right?”
“Yes, Tara Drew. Oh, wait…” Tara quickly checked the jacket and pants pockets. “My husband always forgets to empty his pockets,” Tara smiled, finding nothing. “Well, he proved me wrong for once.”
She handed over the suit to Mrs. Cho who checked the jacket’s lapel pocket that Tara had missed. Mrs. Cho handed a business card to Tara.
“Check all pockets.”
Tara looked at the white business card while Mrs. Cho took Clem’s suit to the back of the shop. It was a rather nondescript card with just a name, number and description printed in black Garamond type: Mistress Krystal – Professional Services - 952-941-5051.
Tara stared at it then flipped it over. Handwritten on the back in Clem’s distinctive handwriting was written ‘Tuesday, 5pm’.
As Tara drove home she felt numb
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