One Wife Too Many

She said nothing.

Not willing to lose his momentum, he continued. "It is understandable that such an attractive woman as yourself would want to be cautious. As I already told you before, I'm also marriage minded and family orientated. A one night stand or a sex only relationship is definitely not something I'm trying to sweet talk my way into. I've already spent years being there and doing that. Finding a potential bride and fitting her with a ring and a white dress is where my mind is really at."

She smiled broadly again, and seemed to lose all her apprehension, even though her senses told her that guys didn't normally talk like that. He was either someone very special or very slick. Nobody was that slick, she suddenly decided to herself, opting for the opinion that he must be special.

"I really hope so," she said, her brown eyes starting to really sparkle. "Because I started looking for Mr. Right at age seventeen, and it's taken me more than twice that long to try and find that elusive groom. I'm beginning to think that such a guy is extinct like the dinosaur, and that he no longer exists."

"There are still a few of us around," he assured her, "and as for me, I'm sincere and always on the lookout for that loving, charming lady that I can call my own. My very own one and only, that is."

His words again saturated her itching ears and yet, she had to admit to herself that the conversation had gone from light and airy to heavy and draconian. She had hashed and rehashed her need to find a husband and not just a boyfriend. He, on the other hand, had also hashed and rehashed his claim that he was not like most men, and very honest, refreshingly determined to say 'I do' to the first right woman that came along.

"Here is your wine, sir," the waitress said, suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

Their voices, although not loud, had still managed to echo around some parts of the restaurant, making the waitress privy to bits and pieces of their conversation. She felt uneasy and sought to abdicate her responsibility as the rightful one to open the wine. Cassie, the waitress recognized. John, she didn't.

"The opener is right here," she said, leaving quickly to give them more privacy.

"Thank you," he said, glad that the arrival of wine might prove a welcome break from the heavy handed talk about marriage and allergies to one night stands.

He poured her a glass, supposing it might lighten the mood and make it more jovial.

"You still haven't played any music," he said

She smiled yet again. "You're right, I haven't. What kind would you like to hear?"

"Anything's fine for me."

"Hmmm, an easy going, easy to please man. Maybe too easy."

"What does that mean?"

"You easy going types of men are always the hardest to read, or learn about."

"How so?"

"Well, for one thing, you just basically agree with anything and anything we women say, and so we never know what you're really thinking or what your real preferences are."

"What I'm really thinking about, is kissing you again," he whispered. He suddenly launched his face forward again. He then splashed his lips onto her stunned mouth and sent renewed shockwaves of pleasure thundering along her spine for a second time.

"Wow," she said, when he finally pulled away. "You're really quite the kisser, aren't you? You make my damn knees knock!"

"Is that a bad thing?"

"No, but it's a scary thing. We women like to be in control. Electrifying kisses like that tend to blur the lines."

"Are you calling me a grey area?"

"I'm not sure what to call you, except to say I'm pleasantly surprised. For all my interrogations, scrutinizing's, and skepticism, you're starting to come across as just a sincere and nice guy. Just what the doctor ordered for a suspicious woman like me."

"You're not still suspicious of me, then?"

"Apart from those deadly, knee knocking kisses, you're beginning to look quite harmless."

"Where I'm concerned, what you see is what you get," he lied, holding her hand as he watched her take a generous sip of her wine.

They then ate their dinner in relative silence, but did often exchange smiling, even adoring glances.

After they had finished their dinner, they chatted on just about everything, then ordered and ate desert, and polished off the wine.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his wallet but his cell phone was in the way. He pulled them both out and sat the phone on the table, rummaging through his wallet for enough cash to pay the check. There wasn't enough. He flipped through his many gold cards and plunked one down onto the check plate.

Cassie glanced at the name, John Haskins. For the first time in many years, she seemed to have a marriage minded, handsome, charming, witty, fun, romantic super kisser within her grasp that also drove a hundred thousand dollar car and had an impressive wallet full of gold cards. Most important of all, he was single and not seeing anyone at the moment. He had also expressed a desire to start dating her, if she were of a mind to do so.

She stared once more into the dreamy green eyes. With most men, she could afford to be picky or overly cautious, but with John Haskins, she knew she had a too good to be true, one in a million dream guy dangling on her hook. Guys like that, may come by once in a lifetime, or never at all. She realized that playing it safe and cool may simply drive him into the adoring arms of some other husband hungry woman. The opposition rarely played it safe or cool. She knew if she didn't snap him up fast, some other woman surely would. The fact that he was still available was a miracle in itself. She was determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth.

"I really like you," she blurted out, quite willing to lay all her cards out on the table.

"I really like you as well," he countered, "although I do tend to fall in love so very easily, so if you keep pushing those pretty, big brown eyes at me, then-"

It was now her turn to deliver a kiss, and she did so without letting him finish his sentence, impressing his lips with a moist mouth embrace that left him equally panting for air.

If he was a fabulous kisser, she was beyond fabulous, rocking his world, and leaving him breathless, and wondering what else she was beyond fabulous at.

A few moments later and the waitress came by, noting he had written in a generous tip on the bill. She swiped his card and the approval flashed almost at once.

"Thanks for having dinner with us," the waitress said, flashing her company's appreciative smile as she walked away."

"Before we leave, I need to use the washroom. I'll be right back," he exclaimed, rising and walking quickly to the end of the restaurant, not realizing the phone he had left on the table was starting to buzz.

She looked at his phone and recognized the brand. It was an expensive model she was thinking of buying once. The sales lady had showed her all its features and how it worked, but in the end, it was just too high a price to pay. John, however, didn't seem to have any qualms about paying so much for a phone.

She stared down toward the end of the restaurant and saw John rounding the corner, and passing through the door. For now, at least, he was out of sight and out of mind, which was more than could be said of his phone, which was whining away with a melodic buzz, signalling that there was a text message coming in.

She picked up the phone and looked at it. On these models you could see the name of the person texting. "Stacie."

A wave of panic began sweeping over Cassie. Who the hell was Stacie? A friend? And if a friend, what kind of friend, girlfriend? A fiancé, perhaps that he had failed to mention? Or perhaps, most damning of all, an actual wife? The room suddenly began to spin. In so short a time she had invested so much of her fledgling heart, sensual thick lips, and hopeful mind into an incredibly hot and charming, fun loving guy who appeared, at least on the surface to be the man of her dreams, should she care to pursue him. Only now, he was receiving strange texts from women that may or may not turn out to be harmless. If only she knew! If only she knew!! She had been shown how the phone worked by that sales lady and knew the sequence of buttons to press in order to read the text. But if she did? If she did? Then she would be breaking the most sacred of all relationship foundation strengths, 'trust.' Trust! Without trust and believing in the honesty of one's partner, then any relationship could be doomed before it began. Was she actually thinking of reading a private text behind his back? She thought about the possible ramifications. On this particular model any text would show as 'read' or 'unread.' Still, he may not assume it was she that read the text, Cassie thought to herself.

She was suddenly a bundle of nerves. John had skillfully and methodically caused her to open up and to become infatuated with him in so short a time. He was leading her to believe that he was willing to keep seeing her if she was game. Only if she did allow the relationship to continue, she would need to know whether he was really a sincere, sweet guy, or just a skilful player whose manipulation skills were far superior to her detection radar. She grabbed the phone and began punching buttons.

The text read, "Dearest John, I am boarding the cruise ship and having a wonderful time. But I am missing you already, love Stacie."

Her blood began to boil. Three words stood out as being words usually associated with someone intimate. 'Dearest!' 'Missing!' 'Love!'

Cassie could feel herself almost beginning to hyperventilate. Damn! John had seemed so convincing, so nice, so true to his word, so much fun and so like her on so many levels. He also seemed so rich and acted as though he loved to be in her company and had explicitly stated he would love to start dating her. Only now, she held a text in the palm of her hand that would seem to indicate he might not be what he said he was. He might actually belong to someone else!

She read the text one more time, just to make sure she had read it right the first time, then filed away the text so he wouldn't immediately know she had been snooping. Then she slipped the phone quietly onto the table, ready to erupt in fury. All her life she had gone out with men who had either tried to use and abuse her, or not been whom they claimed to be. She had honestly thought John was different. She sighed bitterly. She had been blessed in life with glorious, over the top, super sexy looks, only it meant that all the average guys were afraid to ask her out cause they assumed she was taken. That only left players and above average guys. The above average guys were being hotly contested and fought over by other sexy babes, only she had always been loathe to fight over some equally super sexy guy. That left her alone, desperate, and vulnerable to players. She seemed to attract liars and cheats like flies. But was John such a lying, cheating player? Just who in the hell was this Stacie? And how many Stacie like girls did he know?

"I'm back."

His words startled her, almost sending her through the roof. "God, you scared me."

"Sorry, just coming back from the can. Why so jumpy?"

"Who's Stacey?"

The two words simply sailed out of her worried mouth before she had a chance to ponder over their consequences or possible ramifications. For one thing, it might turn him off to know she had violated his privacy. If she had the courage to read private texts on only the first day they met, what the hell would she be capable of after only the first week, month, or year? She began kicking herself. She had let a cat out of a bag that could never be resealed. Still, she needed to know who Stacie was before she sunk any more of herself into this guy. He was a smoking hot marriage prospect on so many levels, but not if he were hiding stuff from her.

"What are you talking about?" he said, looking apprehensive and guilty. His face began to turn pink.

"You got a text from Stacie while you were in the bathroom."

"I did?"

He was now in a panic. Without knowing exactly what the damn text said, word for word, he couldn't formulate a suitable lie. She had read something he hadn't read, and therefore had him at a distinct and dangerous disadvantage. He could feel his house of cards beginning to crumble all around him. Cassie was easily one of the most beautiful and easy to talk to woman he had ever met, and he was beginning to become enamored with both her personality and her looks, only now she had him over a barrel. She had a text from his wife, only she probably hadn't identified herself as such. He decided he had to buy time until he could read it for himself and that he needed to go on the attack when the time came so that the balance of guilt could be shifted and leveled out. For now, he would simply let her dig herself a deeper hole.

"You're face is reddening," she whispered. "And you seem really nervous, almost as if I caught you in the whopper of the century."

He snatched the phone off the table and quickly pressed the buttons that would pull back up the offending text. He read it and breathed a sigh of relief. It was damning, to be sure, but not something he couldn't work his way out of with a little conniving and skill. The time to attack was now.

"You read my text? A personal private text?"

"It was wrong, I admit, but I was curious. I wanted to see if you were who you said you were."

"You don't believe a word I say, and you read private texts? I find that very offensive. I honestly didn't think you were like that."

"Like what?"

"Like someone who is so insecure, and would always be snooping and going behind her partner's back. How do you think that would make me feel, not to be able to turn my back for fear you would be violating my privacy at every turn, opening emails and steaming open letters? You seemed so nice, so trustworthy, so special, so wonderfully amazing, but I should have known you were too good to be true. I'm sorry, I have to go. I'll drive you to pick up your car, but then, that's is. I don't want my heart broken. I was really beginning to fall for you, really being smitten by your looks, warmth and charm!"

His words stung like tiny daggers being hurled with precision and a raw emotion she found difficult to fight her way out of. Still, she was determined to find out who the hell this Stacie was.

"Who's Stacey?" she asked in a rational and monotone voice, trying to stay calm until the flood of tears should come. She honestly thought he would be the one, the man of her dreams, only now she seemed so unsure.

"I don't believe you," he said, mimicking outrage. "First you invade my privacy, then you demand to more about the things you were snooping about."

An anger began to blaze within her. She had been ready to let down her defences and toss herself into his life, and would probably have ended up making love to him sooner as opposed to the later she had boasted she was capable of holding out for. But she was vigilant, sticking to her guns and demanding he come clean.

She slapped the table then grabbed his hand. "Who's Stacey?!"

He snatched his hand back and rose from the table. "Its only been one lousy day since we met and you're demanding to know all kinds of private things about me and reading private texts. What's next, I wonder? I'm sorry, but I won't be seeing you anymore. I couldn't live like that, never being trusted, always being spied on like some kind of common criminal."

He pulled the lone twenty dollar bill out of his wallet and tossed it onto the table. "Here, take a cab back to the repair shop on me."

He turned and started to walk away, knowing one of two things was going to happen. Either she was going to just take the cab and wish him good riddance, or she was going to chase after him and keep demanding he come clean. He was certain she would choose the latter. He was right.

She followed him and grabbed his arm, keeping him in place until she could jump in front of him. The few other restaurant diners began to stare but she didn't care. In so short a time he had touched her heart the way no other man ever could or would and if there was a chance he was telling the truth then she needed to know.

"For the last time, the very last time, who's Stacie?" she demanded, her nails instinctively digging into the flesh on his arm to keep him in place.

"Your nails are hurting my arm," he said.

"You're lucky they're not digging into your face right now," she said, boiling over at a lifetime of having men constantly try to play her, cheat on her, lie on her and use her like she was some kind of scrap of toilet paper. In so damn short a time, he had been touching her heart, leading her on, talking about looking for a wife, and handing her compliments like she was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.

"Fine, you wanna know who Stacey is? She's my sister, okay. My damn sister! She's going on a cruise with her fiancé, who I just happened to introduce her to. I made her promise she would text me once she made it safely there by plane and then boarded her boat. I worry about her. This is the first real trip she's ever been on. If she were a special girlfriend or fiancé or wife then don't you think I would be going on the romantic cruise with her?"

His words made perfect sense, slamming into her brain like some nuclear tipped torpedo. She had made the mistake of invading his privacy and then insinuating he was lying to her. And then she had embarrassed him in public by accusing him loudly, and had even dug her nails into his flesh. She was suddenly ready to repent, and let go of his arm.

"I'm sorry," she blurted out, horrified at herself. "I should have trusted you. I should never have-"

"I'm not sorry," he answered, faking rage. "It gave me a chance to see what you are really like. Here I was, thinking I had might have finally found the woman of my dreams, someone who in time might have made the perfect wife, when all along you were not who I thought you were. Bye for good," he added, storming out of the restaurant.

A part of him hoped she wouldn't follow, and yet, he knew that was simply wishful thinking. He had manipulated her perfectly, loaded her up with guilt and led her to believe she was ruining a perfectly good chance at getting finally married to the right one.

He hopped into his car and rolled the window down just as she reached.

"Wait," she begged as he turned on the engine. "I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see me again, but I still want to apologize for reading your text and for insinuating that you were lying. I'm really sorry. Yet I do want to see you again. Give me another chance."

"Another chance? And what if you just kept on doing it?"

"No," she reassured him. "Give me another chance and I'll never look at your texts ever again."

"We all make mistakes," he said. "Okay, fine, deal." He stretched out his hand to have her shake on it, but she had other ideas. She reached in through the window and gave him a jaw dropping kiss that was simply too good to believe. In her desperation to make things right, she even exchanged tongues, setting him on absolute fire and making him hard down below.

"Wow," he whispered to her. "With all your talk about me being a good kisser, you're even better at it than I am."

"Guess I had a lot of practice," she shrugged, "only it was always with all the wrong guys."

"Well, you finally met your match," he assured, her. "Your right match. C'mon, hop in. I'll take you to that garage now. Hopefully your car will be ready."

Hopefully it won't be, she said to herself silently. That way I can keep working on your lips to show you how sorry I am!!

"Again, I really am so very sorry," she said, hopping in and resting her head on his shoulder.