The Scarlet Letter Society (13 page)

I need to sink myself into a hot bath
. Even though it was hot outside, she needed heat for her aching muscles. Her trips to the gym were more frequent lately as she found things to fill empty moments. In the bathroom, an enormous, elegant basket filled with scented bath salts and aromatherapy oils awaited her. She lit two lavender eucalyptus candles and chose tangerine ginger Dead Sea bath salts to toss into the steaming water as it rose. She added a few drops of eucalyptus oil to the water; the oil reversed the drying effect a bath could have on her skin. There were no windows in the master suite’s bathroom, so when she closed the door and turned the lights off, the room was dark. She breathed in the glorious smell from the eucalyptus oil and felt her shoulders relax.

Eva ran her hand across the soft Plaza robe hanging on the beautiful antique hook, setting the matching slippers on the plush area rug beside the tub.

She tested the water with her toe. It was the perfect bath temperature—hot enough that you’d have to get in slowly; not too cool to lose its heat while you
soaked. The scents of the herbs and fruits from her candles and sea salts had blended perfectly. She placed her wine glass beside the tub and slowly sunk into the steaming, therapeutic waters that awaited her.

As she floated there, Eva’s thoughts continued to plague her. As much as she would love to push images of her life’s unfolding dramas aside and just relax and enjoy the moment, there was nothing like lying in a hot bath to clear your thoughts.

And then Eva started to cry. The darkness, the silence, the intense smells, the heat, the wine, but especially the
aloneness
in light of the discovery of her husband’s affair, just all hit her at once. She cried. It was the kind of deep, gasping cry that you couldn’t stop if you wanted to. It wracked her small body and she just had to surrender to it. Tears poured from her like the water from the gold faucet; they filled the tub together. She cried for not feeling like a good mother, not being a good wife. She cried from the stress of her job. She cried because her love life was so complicated. And she cried because at the end of the day, she just wanted to be happy.

After an hour of soaking and crying and wine, Eva managed to collect herself, splashed cold water on her face, and started getting ready for her dinner with Charles. She was starving, hadn’t eaten all day, and looked forward to whatever culinary treats he had in store for her.

She chose a pale blue short-sleeved Ann Taylor sweater and a vintage rust orange leather miniskirt she’d bought at Maggie’s shop. She wore simple square diamond earrings and a plain silver chain with a matching diamond pendant. Her husband may have been bad at many things, but selecting jewelry on holidays and her birthday was not one of them. She sprayed three puffs of Coach Poppy perfume into the air and walked through the small cloud. Her Sephora makeup was expertly applied; she was a fan of the brand and knew which color combinations flattered her hair and eye colors. Dark copper spiked Christian Louboutin heels completed the outfit. With her small stature she was used to wearing very high heels, but that didn’t make her any less grateful for elevators and the fact that she’d be dining in the building she was already in.

She exited the luxurious elevator at the main level of the hotel. She raised her head to marvel at the opulence of the architecture. It was no wonder the building had been chosen as a setting by F. Scott Fitzgerald for
The Great Gatsby
.

She stopped in front of the Palm Court dining room, because a “Closed for Private Event” sign greeted her. She tried the door. It was locked. A waiter instantly appeared beside her.

“Follow me, madame,” he said.

She did.

Taking her around to another, non-public entrance, he held the door open for her and she entered the opulent room. The waiter left and she walked further into it. Large opaque white silk screens had been placed in front of the room’s huge arched windows, creating a completely private space. In addition to the giant palm trees that were the room’s moniker, there was only a single table for two set in the middle of the room under the magnificent arched stained glass ceiling. At least a hundred peach-colored candles in every height, shape and size illuminated the room. The electric lights had been turned down to accent the candles’ glow. The table was stunning. In the center was a five-foot high-stemmed vase with a spray of lilies in every color, their smell filling the air.

This is a room where a wedding should be taking place right now, instead of a dinner for two
, she thought. She felt completely underdressed in her sweater and skirt.

She gasped as she stood and appreciated the sights within the gorgeous room. She heard a door open and felt Charles walk into the room behind her. She turned and ran into his arms. He chuckled.

“This is the most amazing, beautiful room I’ve ever seen in my life,” she said, and she struggled to fight back tears as she squeezed him in a thankful embrace.

“I was so happy to do it for you, Eva,” said Charles. He straightened his arms, held her slight waist, and looked straight into her eyes with his own dark brown ones.

“I have a four-course meal planned for you, madame,” he said. “So I hope that you are hungry.”

“Absolutely starving, Chef,” she said, smiling up at him. Even in her three-inch platform heels, he was a few inches taller. He returned her smile, gesturing towards the elegant dining table.

“Shall we?” he said.

“I believe we absolutely shall,” she said.

They sat, and as if on cue, a waiter entered with drinks. Her favorite, champagne with Chambord raspberry liqueur for her, a glass of red something-he-probably-picked-to-go-with-the-meal for him. Jazz music played softly in the background.

“I can’t believe you did all this for me,” said Eva.

“It was fun,” said Charles. “I’m so glad you like it. I hope you enjoy the meal I have prepared for you. I’m trying out some new culinary experiments.”

“That sounds exciting,” said Eva, sipping from her sweet pink bubbles.

“I think it will be,” said Charles, with a lazy smile. He sipped his wine and admired the beautiful woman who sat before him. The door opened again, and another waiter entered with two small plates.

“Amuse-bouche,” said the waiter, placing the plates in front of them. “A gift from the chef.”

“This whole evening is a lovely gift from the chef,” replied Eva, gazing across the table at her dark-haired lover. She knew, because he was near obsessive compulsive about his selections of food and style of dining, that this entire evening, down to the timed entries of each waiter, had been meticulously planned for days. And she was thankful for it.
What an amazing escape
, she thought.

They ate the duck confit together in silence. He knew duck was one of her favorites. Plates entered and disappeared as if by magic—baked oysters with prosciutto and champagne cream, pan-seared petit filet mignon. It never occurred to Eva whether the foods were in season, and how much trouble Charles had to go through to get some of them. She was stuffed, and delightfully so.

Another glass of Champagne and Chambord arrived without the need for her to request it.

“And now it is almost time for dessert,” said Charles, and he stood up.

She smiled and asked, “Are we going somewhere else for dessert?”

“Not far,” he replied, taking her hand. She stood.

He led her to another section that had been prepared to appear like a small sitting room. An antique French sofa, coffee table, and two plush chairs were gathered on a beautiful Persian rug. More candles lit the area, and a bowl of roses was centered on the coffee table with a grouping of candles.

“This is beautiful,” said Eva.

“As are you,” said Charles. He walked over and sat on the sofa. She left her heels on the rug and sunk into the cushions, tucking her feet under her. Another waiter appeared. He brought a covered silver dish, placing it on the table before them, and disappeared as quickly as he had arrived.

“That will be our last interruption for the evening,” said Charles. They heard the click of the door when the waiter left.

“Is this some kind of surprise dessert?” said Eva.

“Yes, it is a new recipe I am trying,” said Charles. He lifted up the silver platter’s cover to reveal a bed of Pop Rocks candy packets in every flavor, with two crystal dishes of sorbet placed amongst them. Eva laughed.

“Pop Rocks?” she said.

“Yes, Pop Rocks,” responded Charles. “A few weeks ago I overhead two of the waitresses talking about their favorite candies as children. One of them mentioned these things—Pop Rocks? And I had never heard of them. The other girl told me how delicious they were, and one day she brought in a packet of them. Watermelon. I tried them. And they are delicious.”

“We all loved them as kids,” said Eva, grinning. “And watermelon has always been my favorite.”

“I decided to try to make sorbet with them,” said Charles, “because I thought the culinary surprise of the popping combined with the intense flavor would be enjoyable in a frozen form. And so—voila! Watermelon Pop Rocks sorbet.”

She picked up her spoon and silver bowl and dug in. As soon as the frozen, carbonated watermelon magic hit her tongue, she giggled like a little girl.

“Oh my God, this is the most delicious thing ever.”

“I’m so glad you think so,” said Charles. He reached over, picked up a packet of Watermelon Pop Rocks, and sprinkled some on the top of each of their bowls. “The finishing touch.”

“Another bizarre thought about the Pop Rocks came into my mind,” said Charles. “And I would like to try that as well.” Raising a spoonful of the candy from its silver bowl, he took a mouthful of the candy, and leaned over to kiss Eva. She could feel the popping of the candy as soon as his lips touched hers. She instinctively opened her mouth. As their tongues met, the Pop Rocks sizzled and fizzed and popped audibly, and she wondered how she had existed for four decades without Pop Rocks kisses.

She put down her bowl and picked up a spoonful of strawberry Pop Rocks; there was a silver bowl of each flavor. “Have you tried the strawberry?” she asked.

“Yes, and it is also delicious,” said Charles. “Which is a word that reminds me of you.”

He took Eva in his arms and kissed her passionately, but she pushed him away playfully and filled her mouth with a spoonful of the strawberry Pop Rocks. Then, she kissed him back. She let some of the candy remain on her tongue as she licked his ear. He shuddered at the sound of the candy popping in his ear combined with the sensation of her tongue. He was already hard.

Eva reached down and felt his rising arousal.

“I think you like strawberry, too,” she said.

His large, strong hands slid underneath her sweater, running gently up her sides. She sighed. His hands gently caressed the outside of her pale teal silk bra, and her nipples rose to greet his fingers. He unfastened her bra. He lifted her sweater gently over her head. Placing her firmly onto the pillow at the corner of the couch, he caressed her breasts, teasingly moving his hands down her waist to where he knew she wanted them.

Her bra hit the floor as he picked up a spoonful watermelon Pop Rocks and took a mouthful. When his lips took in her breast, she arched her back and let out a tiny squeal. The sensation of the carbonated candy on her nipples was unprecedented. There was a slight grittiness to the texture of the small crystals as
his tongue circled her nipples, and the popping from within his mouth felt amazing on her tender flesh.

As he continued to incorporate Eva’s breasts into the dessert menu, he reached down between her legs. He was delighted to find that as usual, she wore no panties. When his right hand reached her, she was already wet for him. He hiked up her skirt for better access, teasing her with his agile thumb. She softly moaned, clawing at his shirt. She wanted him naked. She wanted him to fuck her more than she had wanted any other part of this meal.

But he was taking his time. He was the one in charge of this course, and he would design its presentation. He continued sucking at her nipples and letting her feel his desire on the inside of her thigh. She pressed her inner thigh against his stiffness, running her hand on the outside of his pants and making him sigh out loud. He returned her hand to her side firmly. He unzipped her skirt and removed it so that she was fully naked, seemingly unaffected by the fact that she was currently without clothes in one of the busiest restaurants in New York City, where hundreds had dined that day and every day for more than a century.

He grabbed the bowl of Tropical Punch Pop Rocks and looked down at her.

“I’m ready for my dessert now,” he said. He slowly poured small spoonfuls of candy onto her belly and inner thighs. While she laughed, lazily circling her own nipple and licking the remaining candy from her sticky fingers, he poured the remainder into his own mouth. And as he lowered his head to lick her with his mouthful of popping candy, her hips rose to meet his fizzing tongue.

She moaned, and was able to utter the words, “I think Tropical Punch is my new favorite flavor.”