He sat in the car. Nervous, anxious, early.
They had been friends for years. Colleagues, nothing more. She was recently widowed, he in the throes of an almost amicable divorce. A simple conversation, an exchange of pleasantries, an unguarded moment of vulnerability on both their parts had changed their lives forever. Now this.
He remembered the call telling him simply that her husband had passed on. She mentioned the loneliness and the fear that she would never find a love that would be passionate about her. He didn't laugh. Instead he told her that she was beautiful. How the sound of her voice was music in his ears. He spoke about the softness of her skin, its glow and luminescence. Her eyes were a deep pool that he loved to look into. He remembered her. He saw her. Now he was waiting for her at the Corset shop.
She appeared out of no where in a peach colored print summer dress. Tall, she was very tall, statuesque and as always luminous. His heart stopped as it always had when he saw her. She had a small overnight type bag with her and she smiled when she saw him look at her. He looked first at her face, the wonderful smile and the eyes that were excited and nervous. Nervous to know if he approved. Nervous to know if he meant it when he said she was loved.
They hadn't seen each other in over a year. They had been friends and friends with each other's spouses. They had each been attracted to the other from the moment they met, yet had never done more than shake hands politely. She had more than once planned her wardrobe to be enticing for him; designed an outfit to especially turn him on. She never saw a reaction from him, she felt like a failure. He hadn't shown any interest, just the same friendly demeanor and safe respectable distance.
Little did she know that every time they met he had to plaster a look of indifference on his face to avoid leering at her and getting an immediate erection. After all she was his friend's wife. But now his friend was dead, and he was finally getting divorced. Everything was different. His comforting her on the phone had led to each of them opening up about how they had felt for years. He described a dress she wore, where they were when she wore it, how it fit, how she looked beautiful, like a glowing lighthouse in a sea of fog.
Their greeting was sweet and discrete a two handed handshake and a peck on the cheek. She pointed out the Corset Shoppe and they entered.
It was like many shops of yester year; a proprietor and a clerk. It sold specialty garments for woman. She was greeted affectionately and respectfully. She had been coming here for years. He was viewed with surprise, curiosity and that mild trepidation that is reserved for unknown black men; but, since he was obviously with her, treated respectfully. She had made the appointment weeks in advance without mentioning an observer.
