Her Secret Life

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“Sixty-four.”

“Hmm. That’s young these days. If you’d like me to talk with him, let me know. I’m told that I can be persuasive when I put myself to it.”

She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Warren Holcomb couldn’t know that if she took him to meet her father, her dad would assume that the two of them had a commitment. “Thank you. I’ve had this burden practically alone for so long that I forget to ask for help. Besides, I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong impression.”

“Like what?” In her mind’s eye, she could see both of his eyebrows shoot up.

“Like thinking there’s more to our relationship than actually exists.”

“Not to worry, I can fence with the best of them, although I admit I’ve never crossed swords with a woman’s father. I’d like to help if you think I can, Jackie.”

“I have a feeling I’m going to admire you,” she said, and wished she hadn’t. “I wonder when I became loose-tongued,” she went on, before he could respond.

“I wouldn’t call it that. You spoke truthfully, because you don’t know me well enough to admire me. In fact, we don’t know each other, and I intend to change that if you’ll let me.”

“Come now, Warren. You wouldn’t normally look to a cocktail waitress for a meaningful relationship.”

“That wasn’t well put, Jackie. I am not prejudiced against any group, and it’s a good thing, or I’d have missed what I think is going on with us. Would you have turned your nose up at me twenty or so years ago when I waited tables at Seafood Forever, in Boston? Or would you have tried to find out who I really was?”

She heard what he didn’t say, and her heart nearly exploded with the joy that she felt. “Thank you for the vote of confidence. You won’t regret it.”

He was silent for a few seconds. Then he said, “I don’t think I will. You agreed to go out with me tomorrow. Remember?”

“I remember, and I’ll be downstairs at twelve-thirty.” Fortunately, her office had closed for the holiday weekend, or she’d have been hard pressed to give him a reason why she wasn’t free at midday, when he thought she only worked nights.

“Why downstairs?”

She didn’t intend for them to create a spontaneous combustion every time they were together, and he might as well know it. “It’s easier to prevent a fire than it is to put it out once it gets started.”

“Good Lord, you’re frank. It’s refreshing, though. I’d better let you get to bed, but I don’t want to. I could talk with you indefinitely.”

“I enjoy talking with you, too, but you’re right…I’d better get to sleep or I’ll be yawning all through lunch. Good night, Warren. Sleep well.”

“Not even a tiny kiss?”

She made the sound of a kiss and said, “That was a tiny one.”

She heard his kiss just before he said, “Good night, sweetheart.”

She hung up, but she couldn’t move. Her life was changing with the speed of a down-hill roller coaster, and it could be her ruin, but she didn’t want to change course. Every one of her senses told her that Warren Holcomb would introduce her to a whole new way of feeling and a new appreciation of life. And then what? Would he leave her adrift, to become another walking, breathing tragedy?

She mused over it as she prepared for bed. “Heaven help me, but I have to take the chance.”

He saw her at once, seated in the lobby facing the front door with her knees crossed and her left foot swinging, as comfortable as if she had been in her own domain. She rose with the grace of Aphrodite emerging from the Aegean Sea and walked to meet him.

He took both of her hands. “You’re the essence of grace,” were the words he said, but his mind was engaged with one question. Should he kiss her there in the lobby of the building in which she lived? She settled the matter by reaching up and kissing him on his right cheek.

“I appreciate punctuality,” she said, “because I hate to wait. Where are we going?”

“There’re lots of nice restaurants up in Harlem, but I thought we’d eat before we got there. I’m in the mood for Italian. What would you prefer?”

“I love Italian food, and I hope one of these days to go to Italy and eat my fill of it.”

“Then Italian it will be.” If I ever get the opportunity and we’re still together, I’ll show her Florence, Italy.

As they entered the restaurant, he noticed that two women leaving it wore shoes with heels three or four inches high and sharp pointed toes. He glanced at Jackie’s boots and relaxed when he saw that their heels didn’t exceed an inch and a half in height and that the toes of her boots were rounded.

“You’re not a slave to fashion, are you?” he said after they ordered.

She raised both eyebrows. “Me? Not! I wear what suits my lifestyle. Half the things in my closet are six or seven years old. I hate shopping, and I don’t make bills that I can’t pay at the end of the month.”

He leaned back, eager to hear more. “Girl after my own heart. Carrying charges have bankrupted many an honest person.” He decided to take a chance. “Something tells me you don’t like your waitress uniform.”

Her change in demeanor told him that he might have pushed the wrong button, and she seemed defensive when she said, “Do I look like the type of woman who would choose to wear that skimpy outfit?”

“No. That’s why I asked the question.”

The waiter brought their food—spaghetti with white clam sauce and tiny clams for her with a chef’s green salad, and veal marsala with an arugula and mushroom salad for him.

She could tell that he didn’t want to linger over the meal, that he wanted to move on to their destination. “I hope we’ll have more leisurely meals together, but right now, I can’t wait to show you my baby,” he said.

“This is your building.” It was less a question than a statement expressed in awe. “This is a community center. I had no idea I was coming to a place like this,” she said as they walked through the building. “It’s huge and ultramodern.”

“I try not to do anything halfway, Jackie. We use this facility for daily tutoring, sports, theatre, dance and music education, and each activity is carried on in a room built for that purpose. We have programs for children ages five to nine and ten to eighteen.”

“This is…wonderful.”

“My aim is to keep as many of our children as possible off the street and out of crime. This is home for a lot of them. I’ve been blessed to have the money, and I’m glad I found something useful to do with it.”

“You must be proud of this,” she said, but her thoughts were on the similarities of their interests and the things they had in common. If she could only share with him the part of her life of which he knew nothing. She longed to write a human interest story on the man and Harlem Clubs, Inc. for African American Woman, but she couldn’t do that without exposing herself. She made up her mind right then to find another night job that would enable her to care properly for her father.

“Have I lost you?” he asked her

She didn’t answer directly. “In my mind’s eye, I can see every room here filled with children, happy children eager to take advantage of a rare opportunity.”

“Most are like that, but quite a few are sullen or have big egos or are unhappy because they can’t keep up. Not many are troublemakers, because I don’t tolerate it, and they know it.”

He stopped to inspect a computer that a teenaged girl was building. “She’s very bright,” he said as they moved away from the busy teen, “but she has a bad home environment and spends as much time here as possible.”

“Mr. Holcomb, what’s wrong with this formula?” a boy asked him.

She noticed that he placed an arm around the boy’s shoulder as he looked at the problem. “You forgot the t. Rate of growth takes place over time. Remember?”

The boy grinned. “Yes, sir. I forget it every time. I’m going to make up my own formula.”

“Great,” Warren said, “as long as you remember the t.” He patted the boy’s shoulder and walked on. “He likes attention, so he always pretends he doesn’t know something. He knows it all right.” He unlocked a door. This is my office. I’m thinking of closing the one downtown and making this one my headquarters. If Bill Clinton’s office is around the corner, why can’t I have mine here?”

She peeped in and saw the luxurious accommodations that one would expect of a successful executive. “Elegant,” she said.

The touch of his hand at the curve of her back sent shivers up and down her spine. “Come on in.”

She stepped into his office and turned to face him. “Jackie.” His whisper of her name had the sound of reverence. “Jackie, let me hold you. Just let me feel you in my arms.” He didn’t touch her until she raised her arms to his shoulders, and then he laid claim, gripping her to him. What was happening to her? She wanted his hands all over her, but he only stroked her back as one would soothe a baby. She wanted to scream her frustration.

“Warren…I—”

“Shh. This isn’t the place for me to show you what I’m feeling right now.”

Get it together, girl, she told herself. Later…when he takes you home. She moved away from him with all the grace she could muster, and as if he hadn’t said a word, she spoke calmly the first repeatable thing that came to her mind. “If your theater group puts on a play, I’d like to see it.”

When he didn’t answer, she glanced up at him, and saw his perplexed stare. “Was I too abrupt?” he asked her, ignoring her meaningless remark. “I didn’t mean to unsettle you, but I know the consequences if I went any further with you. You’re a new experience for me, Jackie. I’ve always been able to control my feelings for a woman, if need be, but I can’t do that with you.” His right hand caressed her cheek. “I risk burning up every time you touch me, and your kiss…well, I don’t even want to think about that right now. Come on. I want to show you the sports and gymnastics halls and the swimming pool.”

Was she such an open book with this man that she allowed him to know that she wanted more than he gave? He’s a new experience for me, too, and I’d better learn how to deal with him.

He completed the tour and spoke to a man who walked out of the computer room as they approached it. “I noticed that one of the computers is missing, Ron. Order four new ones and keep the computer room locked unless you or one of the volunteers is in the room. Keep a record of who supervises that room and at what times.”

“Right, Warren. I’ll get on it Monday morning.”

“Forgive me. Ms. Parks, this is Ron Hackett, the club’s manager.”

Ron’s quick appraisal was not lost on Warren. Nevertheless, Ron spoke graciously. “I’m glad to meet you Ms. Parks.” She acknowledged the introduction, careful to make it as impersonal as possible.

When they walked outside, darkness surrounded them. “I didn’t realize we’d been there so long,” she said. “What wonderful opportunities you’ve given those children. I feel privileged to be with you.” And she did. She had liked him, indeed she cared for him, but now, she deeply admired him, and she had a sense of humility that, with his numerous options, he chose to spend his time with her.

“When I think of my own good fortune, Jackie, that isn’t so much.”

“Thanks for bringing me here, Warren. You’ve shown me a side of you that I wouldn’t have imagined.” She glanced at her watch. “I’d better get home and change so I can get to work by six.”

He appeared crestfallen. “Yes. Somehow, I forgot about that. In the back of my mind was the idea that you and I were going to have dinner and a leisurely evening together.” He shrugged. “So be it. I’ll drive you home.” He found a parking space a few doors from the building in which she lived. “May I see you to your apartment?”

If she said no, she would miss his kiss, and if she said yes, she risked her doorman greeting her as Dr. Parkton. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. If members of Allegory, Inc. knew that she was a reporter and unit manager for a national magazine, overhearing their conversations, witnessing business deals and the like, she would be fired summarily and probably sued for false representation. As he stared into her eyes, his gaze—hot and hungry—riveted her, and her breath shortened almost to a pant. Without another word, he got out of the car, walked around it, opened the door and held out his hand to her. She took it, and his fingers closed around hers, settling the matter.

When they entered the lobby, she managed not to look in the direction of the uniformed man who always greeted her with such reverence. In the elevator, she wouldn’t look at Warren, until he squeezed her hand. “Look at me, Jackie. You can’t escape what is happening to us. If you go to Japan or Australia, you’ll still feel it.” Suddenly, a smile lit his countenance. “At least we didn’t have to walk up this time.”

She still couldn’t find words. Maybe he could sound lighthearted, but she knew what was happening to her, and it frightened her that this man could so captivate her. As they stepped off the elevator, his arm slid around her.

“Warren, this is…moving too fast.”

He didn’t answer, but when she put her key into the lock, his hand covered hers. He turned the key, opened the door and waited. She walked in, heard the door close behind her, and then she was in his arms. Oh, the sweet feeling of his body tight against hers and of his heat firing her from head to foot. She looked up, and his mouth claimed her, stunning her with the tremors that it sent through her body. His tongue swept the seam of her lips and she opened to him and sucked his tongue deeply inside of her, as her arms gripped his shoulders. He let the wall take his weight, pulled her close and, with a hand at the back of her head, his other one gripping her buttocks and his tongue swirling and dipping in her mouth, he possessed her as no man ever had.

Heat settled in her groin and she tightened her hips in search of relief, but she needed more, much more, all of him. Her nipple hardened and, frenzied, she grabbed the hand that held her head, placed it inside her coat and caressed her breast with it.

He groaned as he rubbed the tortured areola. “I want my mouth on you.”

“Yes. Yes,” she moaned.

In a second, her coat and jacket fell to the floor, and she felt his hand on her naked flesh moments before he bent and sucked her nipples into his moist, warm mouth. “Oh,” she moaned and, in spite of herself, she undulated against him. Tell him to stop, her mind told her. Break it off before it goes too far, her common sense dictated, but she held his hips with one hand and pressed his head to her with her other one. Suddenly, his erection bulged against her belly, and she broke his kiss and leaned her head against his shoulder, unable to move or speak.

“There’s nothing to be ashamed about,” he said, when he couldn’t get her to look at him. “I know you didn’t mean for it to go so far, and I certainly didn’t mean for—”

“It’s all right,” she managed to say. “Considering what was going on, I don’t see how you could have avoided it. I…uh…I’d better get ready for work.”

“I’d take you, but if I do, someone will certainly see you get out of the car. I hate this secrecy, Jackie. I don’t like the idea of having to hide my behavior from anybody.”

She looked at him then. “I have no choice right now, Warren. It’s an honest living, and I need the job.”

“I know. Go on and get ready. I’ll wait here. I can at least see that you get a taxi.”

She didn’t want that, but to have refused would have raised his suspicions. She dressed conservatively, as she usually did, and took comfort in the fact that the doorman would be on his break when she left the building. She decided not to apply the heavy makeup that she wore as a waitress, and put her makeup kit in her handbag. Maybe he wouldn’t notice the difference.

But he did. As soon as she joined him in her living room, he said “You’re so much more beautiful without the makeup you wear at work. Why do you wear it?”

Her shrug was intended to suggest that the makeup was of no consequence. “My job description calls for a glamorous, sexy woman, and specifies that I wear that ridiculous uniform and high-heeled sandals.”

He stared at her with raised eyebrows. “Well, I’ll be damned. I wonder what idiot wrote that. It must have been Hornsby.”

“Whoever he was, I don’t thank him.”

He drove over to Broadway at 66th Street, double parked and hailed a taxi. “I’ll see you later,” he told her. “I’ll have some guests tonight, so when you get a call from me, remember that I won’t be alone.” He kissed her quickly, gave the address to the driver along with a twenty-dollar bill and said to her, “He’s been paid and tipped. Bye for now.”

She made it through the night in what she could best describe as a fog, thankful that she made no blunders and got her work done with a semblance of efficiency. But she couldn’t remember ever having been in such a daze. In every minute, she could feel him and taste him. And when she went into the private lounge to answer his call, she was practically tongue-tied.

“I’d like a round of vodka comets and a selection of hot hors d’oeuvres, please,” he said when she failed to ask what he wanted.

“Yes, of course, sir,” she replied, and left the lounge as quickly as she could without inquiring as to whether he would like anything else.

Twelve o’clock came slowly, but at last she could change into her street clothes and go home. She stepped out onto 63rd, walked toward Fifth Avenue to get a taxi and stopped for the light. Warren’s Town Car eased to the curb where she stood. “I’ll be on 64th just east of Fifth,” he told her, and drove off before she could answer. She walked to the next block and got into his car.