Better Unwed Than Dead (3 page)

Reaching his hotel, he went to his room and
threw himself on the bed. His fingers drummed on his chest for a
moment then quickly traveled south. He thought about Julia in the
fishnet stockings she surprised him with the previous month. It was
a little after noon and Julia always closed shop and went home for
lunch. He dialed the number.

JULIA stepped back from the refrigerator,
reaching for the phone. "Hello?" The word was garbled, her mouth
full of a bagel and fat free cream cheese, her usual midday fare,
along with an apple or banana. She typically topped off her efforts
to be healthy with a cupcake or a couple of cookies and then swore
it was a good thing she rode her bike the couple of blocks to and
from her shop.

"Hey honey, it's me."

"Oh! Did you find anything out about the
dress?"

"Um, yeah, sort of…I've got a few leads."

"Good! Good! Maybe this won't be a bust,
after all. But if it is, well...not being married can sort of be
like being married."

"I know, and that would be fine, I guess.
But, this is at least worth a shot. Anyhow, I miss you."

"You just saw me yesterday." She took another
bite of bagel. "But yeah, I miss you, too."

"What are you wearing right now?"

Julia nearly choked on her mouthful. "What do
you think I'm wearing? What I always wear to the shop, slacks and a
blouse."

"That sounds nice." His soft words were
accompanied by a sigh and metallic rustle.

"Nick? Where are you? What are you
doing?"

"I'm in my hotel room. What have you got
under the slacks and blouse?"

She recognized the unmistakable tone of his
arousal in the gruffness of his voice. Heat washed over her body.
This was a game they never before played. She licked her lips and
considered her answer. She was wearing plain white cotton under her
clothes. But how sexy was that? "Well, I'm, uh...I'm wearing those
green silk panties you like, and, um, the pink bra with the green
bow and lace that goes so well with them." He'd know she was lying
because he knew she didn’t wear the sexy stuff to the store, but
still she heard his agonized groan. Pressing the receiver closer to
her ear, Julia's body began to throb. She pictured Nick taking his
ample erection in hand. She knew just how he liked to maneuver it,
and it was a thrill knowing he was doing so right that instant,
while thinking of her. "Well, what are you wearing?"

"A t-shirt, and jeans--they're unzipped. Ah
Julia, you know I love those green panties. You look hot in them.
So hot that right now I’m--"

"I know what you're doing right now!" Julia
cut him off, aroused but a little embarrassed and concerned about
government tapping and crossed wires. Nick didn't sound remotely
embarrassed, but then he'd always been more adventurous.

"It feels good, Julia. Are you going to join
me?"

"Um…" Yeah right, as if she’d start
masturbating right there at the kitchen table in front of her
bagel, when she had to be back to re-open Peninsula Gifts in
twenty-seven minutes.

"Come on, honey. Are you slipping your hand
inside those green panties for me? Tell me how it feels, because on
this end things are feeling pretty amazing. What I’d really like to
do is pull those panties down and--"

"Okay! Gosh. You don’t have to spell it out."
Even her admonishment wasn’t enough to slow Nick’s rapid breath.
That sound, coupled with the faint sound of his hand moving against
his flesh, made her melt. She clutched the phone in both hands,
bagel forgotten. "Okay, my hand is in my panties now," she lied.
"It feels good." Another lie, it felt damned frustrating. "I wish
your hand was in my panties, Nick." Finally the truth!

Nick’s breath hitched and he moaned.
Emboldened, Julia continued, "Ooh it's nice, Nick. Nice and wet.
You know how it feels when it gets like that, don't you?" She bit
her lip to hold back a snicker.

"Oh, yeah, I, ah..."

He was getting close, she could tell, so she
sat up straighter and moaned. A good replica of the sounds she made
when he was really with her. Still aroused, Julia nonetheless had
to stifle a giggle. "I'm finger banging myself really hard now,
Nick." She almost choked on a laugh at her reversion to middle
school vocabulary. She hoped it translated across the phone line as
an impassioned sound.

"Is that right?" His breathing was heavy. The
sound alone made her ear feel hot, as well as the faint pumping
sounds of his fist. "I'm so close, honey. Are you going to come
with me?"

No, Julia thought, but he didn't need to know
that. She didn’t want to ruin his fun. She swiped her finger
through the cream cheese on her bagel and sucked it clean, moaning
in hopefully orgasmic sounding pleasure. There was a garbled moan
on the other end of the line and although a mini flash fire tore
through her, he still finished alone. Holding the phone between her
shoulder and ear, Julia went to the sink to pat cold water on her
warm cheeks, listening as Nick's breathing slowed. She concocted a
satisfied, tired sigh for good measure.

"You were faking,” Nick accused after a
moment. Julia's laugh was his answer. "Well, what if I said I was
faking, too?"

"But you weren't," Julia declared with
certainty.

"No?"

"No. I heard your hand, working away rather
frantically."

“Oh. Huh. Well…”

“Well it was fun anyhow. And if I had more
time I might…but I’ve got to get back to work soon.”

“I know, but thanks anyway, honey. I still
miss you, though.”

Julia heard him shift off the bed and move
around his hotel room. "Miss you, too. When do you think you'll be
back? What are these leads you have?"

"Yeah…um, I’m sure when I'll be back. The
dress was sold to a woman in, uh, St. Louis. I have the contact
information."

"Wow, all the way to St. Louis? Are you sure
you want to pursue it? I mean, I'd love to have the dress back and
to be able to marry you, but--"

"Yes! I want to pursue it. Don't worry,
Julia. This is my choice. Something I want to do."

"All right then. Thank you. Even if you don't
find it, I think it's amazing you're doing this for me."

"You're amazing."

Julie smiled at the conviction in his voice.
"I'm going to visit mom at the nursing home after work. I’ll see if
the diary is in the trunk. I've never read it myself but I think I
remember mom mentioning years ago that it has information about the
origins of the curse."

“I still can't believe there’s a diary with
information about this supposed curse, yet you’ve never read the
damned thing.”

Julia winced at his exasperation. "I did flip
through it once when mom had it out, but the hand writing was
pretty illegible. But who knows? I can sometimes read your writing,
so maybe I'll have luck!"

"I hope whatever is in the diary will
convince you the curse is a farce. But I have to say I’m rather
surprised you haven’t made the effort to read it already, given you
believe so wholly in the curse.”

Julia was quiet for a long moment until
finally she sighed. “I don’t know that I’ve ever really wanted to
know, Nick. It’s hard to explain. This curse has been like the
boogieman following me around all my life. I’ve kind of been afraid
to read the diary. Do you understand?”

Nick exhaled slowly. "Sure, sure, it’s okay,
honey. I'll call you this evening and let you know whether or not
I'm heading to, uh, St. Louis, and then you can tell me what the
diary says, if you’ve had a chance to read it by then."

"Okay. Love you."

"Love you, too. Bye."

CHATEAU Delacroix was one of New Orleans many
beautiful French Quarter hotels, complete with a lush tropical
courtyard, weathered stone fountains, kidney shaped swimming pool
and flitting birds. Nick was in paradise, until Julia called.

"Hey!" She greeted him cheerfully, "How is
St. Louis?"

Nick squirmed in his garden chair and
fingered his New Orleans street map with the address of a
seamstress specializing in French period costumes jotted on the
back. He conducted a long internet search the day before in his
Detroit hotel room and this New Orleans seamstress was reputed to
be among the best, even routinely creating costumes for Hollywood
films. "St. Louis is good. I have an appointment today with the
most recent owner of the dress, and then, uh, I thought I'd go see
the Arch."

"That sounds wonderful! I wish I was
there."

Me, too, Nick thought glumly, not at all at
ease with his deceit.

"I found the diary," she continued, "There's
some good information in it."

"Like what?" He prayed her answer would be
‘the curse, as it turns out, is just a sham—a silly baseless tale.
Why don't you come home now and we'll hop a flight to Vegas and be
married before the week is out?’

"Well," Julia began, "the dress was made in
New Orleans in 1887, by my great, great grandmother and her maid.
She patterned it after a picture in a French magazine. Evidently,
the maid was also a voodoo priestess."

"Voodoo, huh?" Nick rolled his eyes.

"Yes, voodoo," Julia said vehemently at his
skeptical tone. "According to the story in the diary, my ancestor
was in a rush to have the dress finished because the wedding was
short notice. She wouldn't let her maid pause work on the gown,
even for a minute, though the maid’s mother was ill. Apparently the
mother died and the maid did not get to say goodbye. So, she
declared that if the gown was so important it had better be worn by
all the women of my ancestor’s decent on their wedding day. If they
did so, all would be well for them. But if they didn't wear it,
they would soon be widowed."

Silence hung heavy between them and despite
the hot humidity, a shiver ran down Nick’s spine. He quickly shook
it off and blamed it on the sip of iced cafe au lait he just
swallowed.

"Nick?"

"Yes, I'm here. Please continue."

"Despite the story, my great grandma wore a
different dress for her wedding. Her husband was struck and killed
by horse and carriage on Canal Street, just one day after their
baby daughter was born."

Nick decided to spare a thought for great
granddaddy when he crossed Canal Street.

"And then their daughter—my grandma—did wear
the gown. Not only did grandpa live, but when they moved to Ohio
they were blessed with good fortune, too. But then, inexplicably,
my mom did not wear it. And you know what happened to my father."
Julia said with such foreboding that Nick had no choice but to
remember the salt mine accident yet again.

"Oh Nick!" she gushed in such a suddenly
bright tone that Nick jumped. "Don't you think New Orleans would be
a beautiful place to visit someday? Wouldn't it be so
romantic?"

Her voice held such open longing that Nick
suddenly regretted his iced cafe au lait and beignets from Cafe Du
Monde down the street. He was regretting the hotel’s lovely
courtyard and his elegant room, elaborately decorated in a
surprising yet delightful blend of Louis XIV and art deco styles.
He was second guessing the late afternoon stroll he planned to take
around Jackson Square, followed by an evening traipse down Bourbon
Street. He frowned and picked at his beignet. "Yeah, it would be
romantic. I'd love to visit here, uh, New Orleans with you.

"Oh, I'd like to see St. Louis sometime,
too," she assured him.

Nick was immensely thankful they had not yet
combined bank and credit card accounts. Julia wouldn't know his car
was sitting in long term parking at the Detroit airport or that
he'd purchased airfare to the Big Easy, or that he'd reserved a
room in the kind of place they often talked about running away to
for a romantic weekend. He hoped this trip down south wouldn't be
for nothing. The trail of the actual dress had gone cold in
Detroit, but if he could commission a decent changeling then all
would be worthwhile.

"Nick?" Julia asked at his prolonged
silence.

"Yeah, honey, I'm here."

"That game we played yesterday afternoon. I'd
like to try it again, after you get home."

"You would?" Nick perked up.

"Yes. I was thinking we could use our cell
phones...and um, you could sit in the car out in the garage, and I
could be upstairs in our bed. And then, you know, after things got
hot and heavy, you could come on up. You could maybe pretend you
caught me on the phone with another guy, and, um, punish me."

Nick fumbled and dropped his remaining bit of
beignet onto the cobblestones, powdered sugar sprinkling his lap.
Pigeons honed in and a moment later his snack was flying across the
French Quarter.

"Nick? I mean, if you don't want to do
that...I'm not saying I want to be with another guy. You're the
only guy I ever want to be with, but I just thought it might be fun
to pretend. And really, you would be both guys. The guy on the
phone, like, maybe he would be the Good Nick, and then the guy who
bursts through the door to punish me, he would be the Bad Nick, but
in a really good way, and..." Julia trailed off, sputtering.

"No, no, honey. I don't mind giving you a
threesome, so to speak. I think I'm man enough. In fact, I'm
looking forward to it." And he was. He had to shift his street map
from the table onto his lap to keep from being indecent when an
elderly couple strolled by. Nick noticed the gold bands gleaming on
their linked fingers and felt a pang in his chest.

"Good," Julia sounded relieved that her idea
was well received. "Hey, will you take a picture of the Arch for
me?"

"Oh, uh, sure," Nick lied, deciding his
camera phone battery would be dead at the time he supposedly
visited the Arch. "Listen, I've got to go. It's almost time for my
appointment. Love you."

Julia hung the phone up and turned to face a
handsome man on the other side of the cash register. "Oh! I didn't
hear you come in!" she stammered, praying he only just walked in
the door.