Page 43 of Nomad

When Señora Gutierrez opened her closet door, Bud walked in and said, “Wow. Did you know there’s a boutique next door? That must be really convenient.” The sarcasm apparently escaped Señora Gutierrez along with the underlying humor. “Well, I’m not going to bother to ask what youdo. It’s pretty clear that you’re a professional shopper.”

“Image is everything to a woman in my position.”

“Really? What position is that?”

The woman’s stony expression indicated that chat time was over.

The closet was about the same size as a starter apartment. It even had three rooms complete with drawered islands and upholstered benches, presumably for putting on silk stockings or taking off boots.

Señora Gutierrez stood at the doorway and glared as Bud walked through the closet. After surveying racks of hanging dresses and suits, Bud finally asked, “Don’t you own any jeans?”

Without a word, Señora Gutierrez walked to one of the larger island drawers, pulled it out, and motioned palm up like a game show hostess.

Bud pulled out the top pair that were pressed and folded as if they were on display in a store. They were denimish, but they were more like leggings than pants. “Hmmm. Always wondered what I’d look like in these.” She smiled at Señora Gutierrez. “I’ll take them. Thank you.”

That was what some would call the ‘foundation’ piece of Bud’s spree. After being directed to the underthings column of drawers, Bud thought she might have died and gone to heaven. She’d known that beautiful lingerie existed because she’d seen it in photos and video. What she hadn’t known was that it could feel as luxuriously silky as recently washed and conditioned hair. Plus, the lace and other embellishments such as hand embroidery could make a two hundred dollar pair of panties a work of art.

“Great heavenly days,” she said, holding up a pair of sapphire blue panties and bra to match.

She nabbed two other underwear sets while she was there, after which the señora said, pointedly, “Please keep those as a gift. Return will not be necessary.”

Bud didn’t dignify the inference with a response.

After plundering through shoes, Bud chose two pairs of sandals, one pair of three-inch block heels, and one pair of flats, and some highly polished leather ankle boots.

After draping a violet-colored silk nightshirt over her arm, she walked slowly along double rows of hanging shirts, blouses, and tops. She stopped next to a rose tunic with three-quarter sleeves and a deep vee neck. Enough coverage to pass the modesty test, but still sexy.

Bud ran her hand down the length of the sleeve. When she felt the softness of the material, she knew it wastheone. She didn’t feel the least bit bad about sampling the wardrobe. The señora would never miss the few things she’d claimed.

However, when she began to take the tunic off its hanger, Señora Gutierrez cleared her throat and said, “That is one of my favorites. How about this one?” She pulled out two other tunics.

Bud shook her head and said, “No, thank you. I like this one.” Señora Gutierrez glared. “And tu closet es mi closet,” she said sweetly. She punctuated that by batting her eyelashes exactly the way Señora Gutierrez had done with Cann.

The woman’s eyes flashed as if she might have a full-blown tamale tantrum, but she managed to restrain herself.

“Swimsuits?” Bud asked.

Señora Gutierrez huffed, stomped toward a drawer and, in her eagerness to please, pulled the entire drawer out of its shelf so that drawer and contents spilled onto the floor.

“Oh, gracias,” Bud said with her best fake sincerity. “It’s so easy for me to see them all this way.”

The señora backed away, recognizing for the first time that perhaps Bud wasn’t as devoid of power and ripe for manipulation as she’d seemed on first impression.

Bud plucked a blood-red one piece from the floor. It had cutouts on the sides so that it was almost as revealing as a bikini, but the center panel hid her belly button. The pregnancy wasn’t showing, but she was feeling hyperaware regardless.

Gathering her armload of treasure, she started toward the door saying, “I know the way.”

Cann was sitting on one of the tuxedo Chesterfields reading. He looked up as she entered and shut the door behind her with her foot. Seeing the load of girlie stuff she was carrying, he said, “Have a nice time?”

“Oh my God, Johns,” she said with heightened color in her cheeks, eyes shining like she’d won the lottery. “The woman has a closet as big as this ginormous room! It’s… It’s…”

“Obscene?”

“Yes! Obscene! Which is one of the reasons why I had such fun relieving her of some of the burden of…um…”

“Obscenity?”

“Yes! Exactly! I have to go hang these up. Or try them on.”

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