Page 18 of The Curve
Charlotte doesn’t object to our contest or rough house playing. She smiles and lets us go at it. I grab all three plates, which makes Mallory snatch all the silverware and the napkins. We’re both laughing as we rush to set the table. I’m going one way around the table and she’s moving in the opposite direction. Three plates are down by the time we meet.
“Give me some of zoze!” I order empty handed.
“No! Nobody said I had to play fair!”
She lays down the settings as I set the purple glasses in front of each plate. It’s a tie as the last glass and napkin are placed.
“I won!” I lie.
She hits my right shoulder. “I won!”
“Ow! My arm!”
Her expression is priceless. With my sling off for the night she forgot. “Oh! I’m sorry! Oh my God, your hurt arm.”
Now Charlotte weighs in. “He’s pulling your leg, Mallory. It’s only his left side that’s hurt.”
I start laughing and pointing at her. She hits me again.
“You’re awful. You scared me!”
“Okay you two, take your seats. Dinner’s served.”
* * *
Now I knowshe can cook, as evidenced by my clean plate. Not that it really matters. I could eat fried bologna sandwiches every night with her, or even be the cook myself. What interests me has nothing to do with food.
“That was good, Mom,” Mallory says as she clears the dishes.
“Thanks, honey.”
“I’ll clean up,” I say standing and offering my services.
“No. I’m going to take care of it all. Go have your wine or talk, whatever grownups do,” Mallory says with a tinge of embarrassment.
“That’s good,” Charlotte says. “I’ll pin up your pants and take some measurements.”
I know there’s no innuendo in her statement, but I think it’s only because Mallory’s still close by.
‘Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”
“The mirror’s in my room. Grab your pants and I’ll give you a few minutes to put them on.”
“Great.”
This is a good development. I get to scan her bedroom, see what the inner sanctum looks like. Maybe there’ll be photographs.
“Second door to the right,” she says.
I head down the hall to door two. It’s open and not all what I expected. Closing the door behind me I toss the pants on the bed. This is inviting. It’s understated in color, everything in shades of ice blue and gray from dove to gunmetal. Classy, classic, cool.
A three-way mirror stands in the corner with a solid round step in front. There’s not many items on the surfaces of the tables and drawers, but what is there is in silver metallic. The frames and the vase, even the base of the lamps, which are dimmed. You wouldn’t think a single woman slept here. It’s masculine. It makes me want to fall into the bed which is covered in down with a thin gray velvet blanket turned at the bottom. More than anything it’s sexy. Wonder how many guys have been here.
I kick off my shoes and jeans and grab the dress pants. Wait. I peel off my boxer briefs. Yep, I’m going commando. It’s time to push the envelope. Stepping into the pants, I zip up just in time to hear the knock on the door.
“Decent?” she says.
“Occasionally,” I answer.
