Crimson & Clover

The Relationship Begins

The following day, after that incredible night at the Starlight club, I dragged Tom to Mrs. Johansson's Malibu beach house where we measured the place for new blinds and curtains. Tom was still upset about last night so needless to say he was useless as he moped around the house thinking about Julie while I took every opportunity to stare at Mrs. Johansson's incredible body. She never missed a chance to flaunt her abundant cleavage or her shapely calves. I would return the favor by smiling back with an inviting grin as my body ached with anticipation for what would be awaiting me when we were done. I had to distract my mind from thinking about Betty. As you're probably wondering, I did indeed sell Mrs. Johansson the most expensive fabrics in Big Al's inventory.

Afterwards Tom waited outside in the car while I gave Mrs. Johansson some extra services, at no additional charge. The way she looked at me after we were done was payment enough. Messy hair, happy eyes with that look of satisfaction that said "damn, I needed that". Mrs. Johansson always ended our time together by biting her lower lip; one of the sexiest things a woman could ever do. I wondered if I there were things I did every time I was with a woman. I wouldn't know because no one ever told me.

I never felt any guilt for providing those extra services. Mrs. Johansson was happy, which meant that Mr. Johansson was happy, which in turn meant that Big Al was happy and when Big Al was happy, I was happy. At least that's how I justified it to Tom. And after all, making Big Al's clients happy is how I got my car.

When I got back to the car Tom was visibly angry, his teeth still clenched from the night before only this time the anger was due to waiting so long while I was, well, you know. It's not that Tom was jealous about me and Mrs. Johansson; he never even glanced at her except when he gave her the invoice. It was because I was able to get women so easily while he was reduced to waiting in the car like a chauffeur, not that I would ever let him drive.

Later that afternoon I called Betty. First Mrs. Johansson, then Betty; sleeping with both of them in the same day would make any man jealous. It would also be the greatest day of my life. If only.

"Hi Betty, it's Adam."

"Who" ? she asked playfully.

"I'm the handsome and charming gentleman from last night."

"Sorry, but that description doesn't ring a bell. What was that name again?"

She was good at this. For a brief moment I actually believed she didn't remember me.

"It's Adam. I stole your seat at the bar. "

"I think you might have the wrong number," she replied.

My heart stopped. All of the anticipation that I had built up in my mind was for nothing. Betty wasn't interested and this was her way of telling me.

I paused. No, she must have remembered me. I'm Adam Baker. Only I wasn't really certain of anything right now. Part of me wanted go home and cry like a two year old who just found out that his mother had thrown away his favourite blanket. What's going on with me? This isn't who I am. The great Adam Baker reduced to tears by a woman he had only met briefly at a bar.

"Hello" ? Betty broke the uncomfortable silence. "I hope you find who you're looking for."

I decided to give this one more try, praying that Betty was simply better at these games than I was. It had to be a game. It just had to be. Besides, Adam Baker doesn't give up.

"It's too bad you don't remember me. I was calling to invite you to dinner at the best restaurant on the strip followed by something very special."

"I told you Adam, I'm not sleeping with you so save your something special for someone else."