Story #43 - Yours

Yours

Yours, Charmane.

He read the note again and smiled. There was just something about her, something about her hair, her lips, the simple grace she displayed in doing the most mundane things that always made his heart beat faster, made his breath catch in his throat.

It would have been easier if he’d met her five years ago, before he’d taken his vows and promised his life, but that was the way of things sometimes. His wife, Janice, was nice enough, pretty enough, smart enough and just, well, enough.

There was nothing wrong with her – nothing he could put his finger on – but she just wasn’t Charmane. She could never be.

A wave of guilt washed over him, breaking on the rocks of the self-confident shell that he’d built up over the years. Really, it was Janice’s own fault that he’d had to find comfort in the arms of another. She spent so much time at work, so much time away from him and their home that he’d had no choice. No other option. She could have been better in bed, more caring, more interested.

It was her own fault.

Another surge threatened to swallow him and he forced himself to re-read the note, bringing a quick, happy pulse.

Dave,

I need to see you again. A week’s too long to be apart, especially now. Please, meet me at our place. Thursday. 8.

Yours, Charmane.

It wasn’t much, but she’d never been all that quick with words, and it was enough for him. She was wrong, of course - it had only been five days and not a week, but that didn’t really matter. She wanted to see him and he wanted to see her just as desperately. Days with Janice passed without incident, but they passed without interest, without memory. Every second he spent with Charmane was etched into his mind and carved in passionate rivulets into his flesh.

But he couldn’t leave Janice – she needed him. She hadn’t done anything wrong.

Slapping on the last piece of his uniform he sighed. A long few days were in the making, a stretch of time too great for him to consider until he could see her. He just needed to focus, just close his eyes and pretend that Thursday had come more quickly than he’d imagined. Soon…soon.

The first days of the week crawled, of course, despite his best intentions, a fact compounded further when a second note materialized.

Dave,

Only 2 days! I can’t wait. Please let it come soon.

Yours, Charmane.

It made him smile, of course, but he couldn’t help but wish she’d left well enough alone. He was barely hanging on as it was; this just reinforced how far they really were from the comfort of each other’s arms. Forty-eight hours seemed to widen and bulge into eternity, though he knew time continued to tick past.

Tuesday moved at a crawl and he’d swear that on Wednesday he’d stepped into a bubble of dilated time, his watch moving ever slower as each minute trickled past.

Finally, finally, Thursday came.

His co-workers laughed, his boss marveled at the spring in his step, at the clever and cheerful words that fell from his lips. There was no one in the office he trusted enough to tell about Charmane, and they’d been careful enough that no one knew about the “special” relationship the girl in the front office shared with one of the guys on the road.

Janice knew he’d be working late – not that it mattered, since she had a double shift to pull as well. She’d never miss him. Never know.

At 7:50 he pulled into the parking lot of the old motel on 5th avenue they’d ended up at once, after heated car grope-fest pushed the envelope, demanded they turn it into something more, and demanded it evolve into the final act. The place was clean enough despite its age, and room four had always been kind to them.

Sure enough, the deskman, George had his name down and the key waiting when he showed up. He checked his watch. 7:55. The anticipation was nearly suffocating.

The room was dark when he entered – Charmane often liked to make him wait, make him savor the anticipation. He didn’t bother with the lights; he’d just sit on the bed and wait. If he caught her off-guard when she came in, so much the better – she had a cute little shriek.

Throwing his bag in the threadbare lounger he sat down heavily on the sheets and let his mind drift over the first time he’d seen her at work, petite form snuggled up behind her secretary’s desk. Even six months later the excitement was still high. It wouldn’t last, but it was something.

Hands went around his shoulders and he jumped, nearly skipping off the bed as he cried out.

“Shhhh.” The whisper was quick and he relaxed - she’d been trying to give him a fright. They thought so much alike.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” her low voice said, though it sounded different than usual, sultrier, “I needed to know for sure.”

Muscles turned to sweet water suddenly tensed. That voice wasn’t just different. It was familiar.

“Janice!” He cried. “I –“

“Shut up!” She screamed. “Just shut up!”

Hands laid across were suddenly claws digging in hard and thin scores of blood began to rise under his shirt. He struggled, but she moved quickly, hands slipping around his throat.

Flashes of color, quick and sharp, gave way to sudden and onrushing darkness.

…

Charmane parked her car and quickly ducked inside, checking her watch as she went. 8:30. Dave had said 8:15 but she’d been tied up at work and hopefully he’d wait – she needed to see him again, convince him that his harpy of a wife wasn’t worth staying for.

The deskman smiled when he saw her and handed her the key. He’d always been discreet, but there was something about that smile that twisted her stomach just a bit.

It didn’t matter.

The door was open a crack – maybe he’d just gotten here himself.

“Dave, I’m –“ she cut off as she entered, mind working to mesh the broken-necked corpse she saw in front of her with the man she loved.

A note was pinned to his chest and she moved as if on instinct, without conscious thought. Written in woman’s hand, each word was detailed, precise. Perfect.

Yours, Charmane.