The Misogynist Ch. 03

Martin walked by the bookstore. He just happened to be in the neighborhood and thought he'd check in on Cheryl. Actually he was kidding himself. He'd gone way out of his way to go to the mall. He wanted to see how Cheryl was doing. Now that he was where he had accidentally planned to be he was afraid to go in. There was something about Cheryl. Something he couldn't put his finger on. She was like a rare art object he thought he wanted but knew he shouldn't be interested in. He had a girlfriend, Sarah. She was pretty, well built, easy to get along with, and terrific in bed. There was nothing Cheryl had he needed. Still, here he was standing outside the bookstore peering around through the window like some peeping Tom.

What was it about her that fascinated him? It was probably the fact that he knew what was in store for her. Turner was moving ahead like clockwork. The kill, as Turner defined it, was only days away. He supposed spying on Cheryl was like the time he was at the beach when he was maybe twelve. He found this conch. It looked like what every kid wanted. It was big, purplish, and fresh looking and certainly right from the sea.

He remembered picking it up to listen for the ocean, but when he turned it over there were all these maggots, squirming and writhing around eating this dead mollusk. He threw the shell down and started to walk away, but he had to turn back and look at the damn maggots again. Looking at Cheryl was like looking at those maggots, sort of. The shell was pretty, but the insides were all rotted and decayed. Cheryl wasn't half-bad looking, but he saw the decay, the rotted maggoty insides that were only a few days away.

Shit! That was wrong. He knew it. She wasn't anything like that old maggoty shell. Still, he thought of her with the same kind of dread.

He watched her from the corner of the window. She had the same black and white outfit on she'd worn on the boat. That meant she probably spent the night at Turner's. Had he already popped her? He might have. Thinking about it made Martin's stomach knot up. He wished he knew why.

She looked damned good. She was heavier than he normally liked, but somehow he didn't see the extra weight. She had pretty legs. They were heavier at the top than maybe they should have been, but for her age and her build they looked sharp. Without any nylons on she looked more naked. He didn't see any spider or varicose veins. When she climbed that ladder he could almost see her ass. She had nice panties on.

Her breasts were larger than he usually liked, but they looked awfully good. When she bent and turned they sort of swayed and tumbled this way and that. There was a kind of naturalness to the way they undulated that turned him on. He bet they would feel good in somebody's hands. Turner's hands, not his.

Since she'd been out with Sarah Cheryl had started wearing make up, and it looked good on her. The plain Jane was certainly gone. She was pretty. That was the only word to describe her. Cheeks aglow, hair tumbling down in a sort of organized disarray, nose all perky, pert little chin, beautiful clear skin, and the damnedest ears. He bet nibbling on those ears would be a treat for somebody. Turner's treat, not his.

He watched her as a customer started talking to her. The customer was probably asking some questions about books. She knew about that sort of stuff. He used to read a lot, but the Internet more or less put an end to that. He looked at her smile at the man. She had such a sweet smile. He how she held her hands, all dainty and delicate. Her hands looked so small. Her nails had that clear clean look he liked so much. He never thought much of colored nails on women, looked cheap somehow. Her fingernails looked so, so something, so pure. He wondered what it would be like if she touched him with those little fingers. What was he thinking? She wasn't for him. She was Turner's. Damn Turner.

Look at her smile at that customer. What a beautiful smile! Her whole face lights up. He saw how her eyes crinkled all up. God she had big eyelashes! She was one of those kind of people who lit up a room when they went in. All those years she's been hidden under a basket. Now look at her! Why couldn't he get her off his mind?

Martin decided it was time to scram. He didn't want to get caught watching.

Cheryl saw Martin out of the corner of her eye. Why didn't he come in she wondered? She would have liked to talk to him about Turner. Martin was a handsome man in a sort of subdued way. He was tall, not as tall as Turner, and he was well built, though he lacked Turner's muscles. Martin was more the quiet reflective type. Very much like her in that way. If he had asked her out first she'd have fallen madly in love with him. Martin was puzzling, a mystery.

Turner was there at 5:00 to pick Cheryl up. Like the gentleman he was he took her straight home. At her doorway he asked for and got another set of long warm kisses. This time he took a few more liberties. Instead of holding her hands behind her back, he got her to keep them in front up around her breasts. He held her hands there with one of his. This gave him an offhand feel. Her breasts were just as soft and lush as he imagined them. He thought about when he'd have her on the floor on her knees with her tits swaying back and forth sucking him off, or better still sucking off one of his friends while he watched. That was going to be cool. He kissed her good afternoon and promised to call her later in the week, probably Wednesday.

True to his word Turner called Cheryl that Wednesday evening. He had two tickets to Thursday night's baseball game, and he wanted her to go. Cheryl decried her lack of wardrobe, but said she whip something up. He agreed to pick her up at 6:00. Since Thursday was her early night off, everything was scheduled perfectly.

That Thursday on her lunch break Cheryl stopped in at the big mall sporting goods store and one of the sales lady's talked her into a pair of long khaki slacks, sporty tennis shoes, a team tee-shirt, and a team jacket. Cheryl thought she'd be ready. However, when Turner picked her up he was dissatisfied with the slacks. They went back to the sport's store and he bought her a pair of flashy silken shorts and a pair of white knee-highs with the team logo. He even bought her a team baseball cap. Cheryl thought the shorts were too much. They only came just barely below the line of her ass, and though, thankfully, they were a loose fit around the legs they were too tight in the crotch. But since Turner liked them she wore them anyway.

They went to the ballpark and whooped it up. Cheering when the home team got a run or when their pitcher got another K, but in the end the visitors were too much for the home boys and won by three runs.

Turner took her home, but made her promise to go out again Saturday night. He knew of some hidden away restaurant with soft lighting and delicious oysters. He wanted to feed her then take her to a movie.

Saturday came around. Cheryl had called Sarah who agreed to help her pick out something to wear. They shopped Saturday afternoon and got Cheryl a spiffy little black dress. It was a spaghetti strap outfit with a tailored waist and came to just above her knees. Her upper body was covered by a black chiffon long sleeved bolero. It had a black silk collared neckline and black silk cuffs. The rest of the bolero was translucent, and sexy as hell. She purchased a pair of black high- heeled shoes and charcoal colored pantyhose. A form fitting strapless bra held her breasts in place. Sarah told her she looked like a vamp.

That night Turner was blown away by what she had on. He couldn't get over how beautiful she looked. Like he said they went to one of those quiet out of the way restaurants, ordered oysters, and then went to a movie at one of the smaller out of town cinemas. It was one of the last of its kind. Turner explained he liked those old cinemas because of their rustic flavor.

Cheryl would have preferred something further in the city, but Turner was such a gentleman, so gracious, attentive, and charming she kept her opinions to herself. At the end of the date he asked if he could stop by and see her after she got off work on Sunday. There was something on his mind, and he wanted to talk to her about it. By the time Turner had gotten to the end of the date Cheryl was ready to listen to whatever Turner had to say, and probably ready to agree to almost anything.

That night Cheryl slept the sleep of the angels. Turner wanted to have a special talk the next day. She wondered what he might bring up. She wondered if it might involve a ring. She doubted it, but it was a fantasy she'd been having.

Sunday afternoon at 5:00 sharp Turner was waiting at the front of the bookstore. "Cheryl there's something I'd like to talk to you about. I think it's kind of important."

Cheryl was pleased he was there, and on time. She was ready for anything. "Sure Turner."

He said. "Come on, let's go someplace quiet."

It was a beautiful mid-summer day. In fact July Fourth had just been the week before. Turner drove to a small park that was only a few miles from the mall. They got out and walked down a grassy slope to a picnic table that sat near the big lake that dominated the park. Geese were swimming in the water. The grass was green and freshly cut. The picnic table sat under a big shade tree, she thought maybe an elm or a sycamore.

Cheryl was wearing another new outfit. Today she had on a pale blue button up blouse that sported a snappy little sailor's collar and darker blue nautical scarf she'd neatly tied off in front. The ends of the scarf trailed off between her breasts hinting at their luxuriance.

Her hair she'd done up in a ponytail. Though it was a little short, the tail gave her an innocent almost child-like look. Her make up was the same subdued pink tones she'd been wearing since their first date.

Today she'd taken a big risk regarding her skirt. It was a pleated number. To be sure the pleats were broad, and the hem came to just above her knees, minimizing her size, but she felt brave this afternoon. It was a wise choice. The dark blue skirt combined with the pale blue of the blouse accentuated the luminescence of her beautiful complexion.

She'd finished off her outfit with a pair of dark leather shoes and dark blue pantyhose. If anyone had seen her at the beginning of the summer and looked at her on this afternoon they'd have denied it was the same woman. She was radiant. No longer pretty. She was beautiful!

Turner for his part was well dressed too. He had on a pin striped button down shirt, dark tan khaki pants, and dark brown loafers. His was the look of the classic up scale yuppie.

Turner started to talk first. "Cheryl there's something I want to do."

Cheryl was all dreamy eyed. She thought. This could be it. "Yes."

He paused as though he were gathering his courage. Which in a sort of perverse way was exactly what he was doing. "Cheryl we've been dating for quite some time now, and I think you'd say I've been pretty up front." He wanted to get this right. He faked a sigh. "Cheryl. I'm not the kind of man who likes to take advantage of girls. I'm proud of who I am, and what other people think of me." He paused for just another second. "Just cut in if I say anything you don't like." He gave her a meaningful look.

She smiled. "You're a gentleman Turner. I love you for it."

Things were going just about right. "Cheryl you've got to understand I am a man." He looked at her closely. "Going out with you has taken its toll. I wouldn't be a man if I said otherwise. You're a beautiful woman. I think about you night and day. He needed a question. "Do you feel the same way?"

Cheryl sighed too, only her sigh was real. "You're the first person I think of when I wake up and the last person on my mind when I close my eyes at night." She couldn't have been more honest.

Turner took her two hands in his. "I don't want to take advantage of you. You're so good. But I want more. Cheryl I need more."

Cheryl had been hoping for an assertion of love, maybe even an offer. Still he was really opening up. "I love you Turner. What do you want?"

He thought he had her. "I want to love you. I want to be near you. But first I want to see you."

"See me?" What was he driving at?

"I can't explain it. Call me a voyeur. Call me weird. Call me a pervert. I want to see you as God created you. I want to look at you without the trappings of culture. I want to see the beauty hidden under those clothes."

"You want me to get undressed. You want to see me naked?"

"Not here. Not right now, but say tonight. Let's say we were to meet at some special place, a hotel room, maybe a downtown suite overlooking the city. Say you were to call me to your room, and you'd be there, in God's good grace, waiting for me, and I would come to you and see you as nature intended. Could we do that? Could we do that together?"

The things he was saying were shattering. Not that they weren't wonderful. In a way they were magnificent. They just weren't what she had been expecting. She was at a loss for something to say. She said the first things that came to mind. "What if we did that? What if we met in some motel room and I was naked. Wouldn't that lead to something else?"

"I didn't say some motel room. I would never ask that. It would have to be some place really special, a uniquely beautiful place, a place we'd remember for always." He was going at it now. He sensed he could get it tonight. "A place for only we two."

"You want to have sex with me."

"Yes! No! You're a beautiful desirable woman. A man would have to be crazy not to want you, and some day we will. But not at first! At first we'd just share each other. Share our time, our bodies in a visual way. I want to look at you. Drink you in. Swallow every morsel, but only one bite at a time. I want to exalt in your loveliness, not just the carnal but the spiritual. That we can do together. Later, if something else happens, well we can let nature take its course."

Cheryl was listening intently. He was more than a man; he was a true romantic. This was something like Lord Byron, or Emerson. He wanted to drink in the ambrosia of love before he plunged into the carnality of it. She almost agreed right then and there. "Turner that's probably the most romantic thing a woman could hear. But I don't know. I mean. You say you're a man with your desires. Well I'm a woman. I have my desires too. Doing what you want is taking a big chance. Could I think about it first?"

Turner took her in his arms. "There's no hurry Cheryl. We've got time, all the time in the world." That's what he said. Inside he kept yelling Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! How did I fuck this up? But he didn't say those things. He wrapped his arms around her. "This is a big step. Let me take you home. I know you need time to think. I don't want to force anything. Not on you! Not ever!"

He helped her to her feet. Together they walked back to his car. They drove back to her car on the mall parking lot in silence. He walked her up to her car. He kissed her once on her lips. There was no other body contact. He smiled down at her lovely face. Her fat fucking bitchy face. "I'm in no hurry Cheryl. I can wait." He kissed her again. Waving he walked down the parking lot to his car.

Fuck! He knew what he had to do. Somehow he had to get Martin back into this. He needed a wedge. Martin would be that wedge. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and started tapping in the numbers.

Martin didn't have to call Cheryl. She called him. She had something important she needed to talk to him about. He hoped it involved a decision not to see Turner anymore. He hoped she'd started to see there was a side to Turner that wasn't very pretty.

He got to her apartment about 5:00. She wanted him earlier, but that was the best he could do.

Cheryl started. "You've known Turner a long time."

"Yes. Since the third grade."

"You're his best friend."

"If Turner has a best friend." He wanted to add, if Turner had any friends, but didn't. "I guess I'm it."

Cheryl was sitting on her sofa. Turner was on a chair that matched. "Turner asked me to do something, and I want your help. Some advice."

"That's why I'm alive. To help my friends." He saw his sarcasm was either being ignored or misunderstood. He hoped it was the first.

"Turner wants to see me without my clothes on."

"I don't follow." He did follow. He knew the routine. This was a good one. It always worked. Get the girl to be undressed and waiting. The excuse was always the same. He just wanted to look. He fantasized about her beauty. He didn't want to touch or take advantage. He just wanted to see for himself. It was amazing how gullible some women were. They fell for it every time.

"Turner has this fantasy. He wants to see my body. Free of all encumbrances. Free and clean. He promised not to try touch me or to take advantage of me in any way. I told him no."

Martin thought hooray for the little girl from the bookstore. The first to stand up to Turner. There was hope yet. He commented. "You said no. Since then he hasn't called."

"Right. Tell me Martin. What should I do?"

He knew what he wanted to tell her. He knew what he should tell her. But he was convinced if he told her what she needed to hear she would blow it off as jealousy. She'd call and go through with it. On the other hand, if he said nothing committal she might still have a chance. "You shouldn't try to follow your heart. Follow your native instincts. You go into a room with a man naked. What do you think will happen?"

Cheryl was looking off into the far horizon. She was in a dream state. "He'll want to make love to me."

Martin had to break the self-delusion. "He'll want to fuck you!"

"Martin you're crude. Turner loves me. He may want to have sex, but it would be about love, about caring, about maybe marriage."

Martin was losing patience. This girl was a goner. "You go into a room with Turner and you're naked. He'll fuck you. He'll pop your cherry, and walk away feeling like a million bucks. He'll leave you crying."

Cheryl was angry. This was not what she expected from Martin. She expected Martin to tell her how much Turner loved her. How he would propose marriage. How he would swear his love. Not that Turner only wanted sex. She'd never had sex. She'd already decided she would have her first sex with the man she loved. The man who loved her. The man she'd marry. She'd have sex with Turner. Martin had made her mind up for her. She would have her rendezvous. She and Turner would make love. "You say your Turner's friend, but you don't understand him. He loves me. He wants to marry me."

"Cheryl has Turner said anything to you about marriage?"

"No, but I know he will."

"You think he will. Do you think he'll want to marry you after he's had you?"

"He'll choose the right time. I trust Turner. I love him."

Martin knew when he was beaten. Turner was going to get this girl. "Everybody has to make their own choices. You think Turner loves you. You think he wants to marry you. If that's what you believe, then that's what you believe. But I will say one more thing. This isn't Turner's first rodeo. He knows what he's doing. Do you know what you're doing?"

Cheryl got up and walked to her front door. Opening it she turned back to Martin. "Thank you Martin. You've been a big help."

Martin got up and left. As the door closed he saw she'd already picked up her cell phone. Poor dumb woman. Like all the others. They're liars. They lie to themselves.

Cheryl typed in Turner's number. After three rings she heard Turner on the other end of the call. "Hello."

"Turner. This is Cheryl. Do you still want to see me?"

Turner listened with silent glee. He knew his boy Martin would reel her in for him, but he wasn't ready just yet to pull the trigger. She'd made him wait. Now it was her turn. "I'd love to see you, but I'm busy right now."