I was sitting in my favorite chair in the living room reading the paper. The phone rang and as usual my wife answered it. She leaned around the corner of the door from the kitchen.
"Honey, there is girl on the line from the exchange. Says her name is Cynthia."
"Thank you. Babe." I said, picking up the receiver and hearing the click as my wife put the receiver into the cradle of the kitchen phone. "Yes! This is Mr. Sampson."
"Hello Mr. Sampson... Don... this is Cynthia ... you remember me don't you... the vacuum cleaner saleslady.
I heard the nervousness in her tone and her hesitant speech and, honestly, I was completely in the dark until she mentioned vacuum cleaner saleslady.
It had been two months since our intimate afternoon encounter. I had dismissed it as a one-time event. I smiled inwardly with the knowledge that there could only be one reason why the 30ish-yr-old black girl could be calling.
"Hold on sugar." I said softly into the receiver, getting up from my chair. "Honey, I got to run out to the car and get some papers out of my trunk."
"Don't be long lunch is almost ready." I heard her shout as I went out the front door.
"How have you been?" I asked as I negotiated the front stairs and made my way to my car in the driveway.
"I've been fine. How have you been?" She replied and then asked.
"Missing you." I lied. "It's good to hear your voice."
There is a long pause as I closed on the car and keyed the trunk, lifting it up in case my wife looked out the window.
"Can I help you in some way my dear?" I asked, pushing her to tell me why she had called, keenly aware that lunch is almost prepared.
"Yes, Mr. Sampson. I mean Don." She replied low enough into her receiver that I had to concentrate to understand her words. "You said you would like to see me again. I'm ashamed to admit it Don but I am in need of some cash to help my brother."
Always with a mind on business, I queried, "how much are we talking about Cynthia?"
"About twice as much as before." She replied with squeamishness showing in her tone.
"My wife is waving at me for lunch!" I said. "That's a lot of money, sugar, but I think it can be done if you can clear about four hours. How about we call the money a gift and you just tell me you enjoyed the sex and you want more."
"You're embarrassing me again Mr. Sampson." She replied in her high-pitched childlike tone. "You know I enjoyed it! You wouldn't believe how I feel right this second talking about it. My panties are getting wet."
She readily agreed and I gave her the address to the Midtown apartment and we set a date.
"If I may suggest sweet cheeks, be sure to wear the snow white underwear I enjoyed so much last time."
A week later I pulled into the parking garage of the large apartment towers, parking in one of the three spaces on the third tier allocated to our firm. Cynthia was directed to park to the left of my black Lincoln.
I was an hour early. I wanted to inspect the apartment before Cynthia arrived and I had brought foodstuff, wine and soda for a light snack.
I always enjoyed this apartment with its view on the eighth floor. It's antique white walls and conservative decorations and appointments gave the 600 sq ft, one bedroom apartment a soothing atmosphere. It was furnished with a eating counter, refrigerator, microwave, sink and dishes.
While on paper it was listed as a private meeting room, in reality there had never been any business conducted in this apartment, unless you could consider today's clandestine meeting business. There are a handful of execs that used this space for solitude, as I did on occasion, and a meeting place for lover or mistress.
Almost on the minute I heard the knock on the door. I opened the door to gaze upon the shy looking Cynthia who would not meet my gaze right off.
"Come in young lady, please."
As she walked past me, carrying a small case, I studied the long legged Cynthia dressed in black dress pants, moderate heels, with a multicolored light sweater. Her hair looked freshly cut in a very short boyish style. She wore appropriate and striking jewelry consisting of a gold necklace, a half-inch wide gold bracelet on her right arm and a gold colored watch on her left. Her earrings were large 1-1/2" gold circles.
"It's good to see you again Cynthia." I said, closing the door and closing on her to hug her lightly and kiss her on the cheek.
"Good to see you Don." She returned.
"Would you like a glass of wine?" I queried, heading towards the small kitchen section. "I stopped to buy deli-sandwiches, some chips, potato salad and soda if you're hungry. I'm going to have a sandwich myself."
We sat at the eating counter, she having a sandwich also with her wine.
We had four hours and I was in no hurry and wanted to show the woman that I was interested in more than just taking her to bed.
I asked about her brother and found out that he had been injured in a car accident with no insurance. I praised her desire to take care of family.
"I have never been up this high." She exclaimed, staring out of the large span of windows of the apartment. "You can see for miles!"
"It is lovely. You have never been in an airplane?" I queried.
"Never! I know that is odd in this day and age, but no." She replied. "Terry is going to be stationed in Japan in another year. If I go with him, I suppose we will fly."
"If you go with him?" I quizzed. "How long is he going to be there? Surely, he will want you to accompany him?"
"Of course!" She answered somewhat defensively. "But my mother and father are not in good health. I want to go but by parents need me. He is going to be gone three years." She added in a much slower volume. "He says he understands but it would be hard on our marriage. I told him I would understand if she -- you know."
"That is a long time." I said. "I don't suppose he offered you the same option?"
"No. But he knows how I feel about my parents and won't press me." She said showing a slight smile.
We finished eating and she sat there with her hands crossed on the counter for a long minute looking out of the window.
I studied her over my glass of wine. Her hair was longer at our first meeting. Then, I had concentrated more on her sexual attributes as my mind was on having sex with her, plus, the anxiety of having sex with her in my home. Now I could study her at my leisure with plenty of time and without anxiety. She was indeed a lovely black woman, her skin mocha colored and her features slight and well defined.
"Don, I appreciate you not dragging me off to the bedroom and treating me like a piece of meat." She said quietly, not looking at me. "But you're looking at me so hard , I suppose, I should go freshen up a bit."
"Did I treat you like that the other time?" I asked. "I'm just studying you now as I would a Renoir."
