“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the man said to her. “Kevin was a wonderful man.” His thin face, although drawn with empathy and genuine regret, made her want to laugh. His eyebrows were set close to each other, and he gently pressed her hand, covering it with his big ones. They were warm and surprisingly soft to the touch. She appraised him quickly from beneath the black lace veil covering her eyes. Handsome fellow, she admired. She liked his mouth.
“Thank you,” she whispered quietly. She knew she looked the part of the grieving widow. She leaned forward to hug him and pressed her body into his, wrapping her arms around his back. “Thank you for coming. He would have appreciated it.” Her message was clear. She felt his sharp intake of breath, his body rigid for a split second, and then he relaxed and settled into the pose, allowing his hands to rest on the small of her back, just briefly, oh-so-briefly, splaying over the top of her buttocks.
Her black dress was tight and strangely sexy, yet somber enough to maintain the mood for the occasion, but it did nothing to hide her nubile curves. The pertness of her bottom. The creamy white mounds rising from beneath the low-cut top. The daring flash of thighs from beneath the high side slits of her skirt. The long legs that ended in fashionable open-toed black heels. The smell of her hair.
She didn’t know this man, only knew of him to be a business associate of her late husband, Kevin. But she didn’t care. She liked him and she wanted him.
She felt him growing beneath her, and she hid a smile. When she pulled away, he looked flustered and caught her eye. Those beautiful long-lashed eyes that stared deeply at him from under the veil.
“Will you meet me at the study?” she asked quietly. “It’s upstairs. Third door on the left. I’m sure Kevin left something which he would’ve wanted me to pass on to you.”
“Of course,” he blustered.
“Help yourself to the food and drink,” she said courteously and smiled at him. Fifteen minutes, she mouthed. He read her lips, those sensual lips moving from beneath the veil, covered with an appropriate light peach lipstick. He nodded and quickly moved into the living room area.
She walked to the kitchen, excusing herself from the guests, her high feels making a click-clack sound on the floors. Walking out into the backyard, she pulled out a long slim cigarette from her bosom and lit it, quickly taking small puffs.
It was perfect. She had planned this carefully. From Kevin’s increasingly inexplicable fainting episodes, to the transfer of the ownership into her name, the increased life insurance policies- she had covered it all, right down to funeral insurance. How brilliant I am, she thought gleefully to herself. And now I need a real man to fill me up. She put out her cigarette, crushing it with the toe of her shoes.
Adjusting her skirt, she stood upright and walked back into the kitchen, checking her appearance in the kitchen mirror. I’ve still got it, she thought to herself as she admired her reflection.
She mingled with her guests, sipped some wine sparingly. Said the right things. Shed tears at the appropriate moments, and finally, excusing herself, saying that she needed to get herself together. Her guests looked at her sadly, patting her on the shoulder, comforting her. It’s ok, honey, you’ll get over this, they told her. She nodded sadly and walked up the stairs quietly, her shoulders droopy.
But her heart was beating a little faster, her breathing a little more excited. She opened the door to the study room and there he was, looking at a picture of Kevin and her. He cleared his throat as she came in and locked the door behind her. She pulled off her veiled hat, and rich, thick auburn curls tumbled over her shoulders. He swallowed.
“I’m sorry about Kevin,” he said again. “You both looked so happy in that picture.”
“Yes, yes. We were happy,” she breathed. Her voice was rich and sonorous, enveloping her words in a mist of sensuality. “He spoke of you. I’m only sorry that we never met prior to this.”
“How unfortunate that it has to be under these circumstances,” he countered. “If there is any way I could be of assistance to you, Mrs…..”
Here, she interrupted him, by now standing so close to him that he could barely breathe, putting a finger over his mouth. “Please, call me Delia.”
And because he was so tall, she pressed her body against his, wrapping herself again in his arms like she had done earlier, pressing her mouth over his, allowing him to gently suck on her tongue, willing his hands to travel over her smooth body, shedding her clothes as easily as she had put them on this morning before the funeral, drawing him into the passion that she knew had been building up since she saw him.