I'm slogging on, about 7680 words total, a little more than 2000 words behind schedule already. So it goes. Tobias wants me to read to him and I'm tired so I guess that means it's time to stop writing for today, hoping to catch up a bit over the weekend.
They ended up meeting at the Peacock Room in the Davenport Hotel. About the only place that could have been less private was the dining room at the Spokane Club. I guess, as women, they figured meeting in public would make it seem like nothing was happening, but that’s how I learned about their meeting, from the staff at the Hotel I make it my business to be on good terms with. All I have to do is tip well and speak poorly of Sally in front of them, though not to them, and they tell me what I need to know without my even having to ask. Olivette had lunch with her. It was a cool spring day and they sat near the fireplace, taking in the heat of the flaming logs, probably hoping the crack and pop of the burning wood would obscure what they had to say to one another. They would keep it civil, otherwise people would really know, even though they already did. It wasn’t like I tried to keep it a secret from anyone, except maybe I was discreet around Olivette, that Sally and I were spending time together around town, drinking, dancing, clubbing, just enjoying ourselves. Being open about it gave me less to worry about. Besides, both of them told me about their meeting, having lunch, so I heard it from each of them, the waiter, the bus boys, the maitre d’, the bell boys, you name it.
Olivette was sitting at the small, round café table near the fireplace, having sunk into the soft embroidered upholstery of the high back chair and slipped off her shoes to warm her feet at the fire. If she was anyone but my wife, though I hardly treated as one should, the staff would never have allowed her to do such a thing, but her association with me brought certain privileges, even if they did come at a cost. The table by the fireplace made for an especially comfortable spot on cooler days as the marble floor would soak up some of the heat from the flames and hold it, radiating it through the soles of the shoes, or through the stocking feet as it sometimes came to be. As it was past new, she was having her customary martini, probably not her first. Likely she’d had one at home before leaving, if not two. It may even have been her second or third while awaiting the arrival of Sally.
Even though there was a war going on in Europe and against Japan in the Pacific at the time, there was no way Sally was going to look anything but her best. The same was true for Olivette, especially if they were going to be seen together in the Peacock Room. I heard Sally was wearing a skirt that emphasized her slender silhouette with a jacket that came down just over her hips. As was typical for her, she had a stole slung over one shoulder, crossing in front of her neck as if to keep it warm, but really to show off the quality of the fox or mink she chose for that day. The furs were her way of setting off what might be mistaken for an otherwise common set of clothing, making it clear that she was not common.
I remember the day she brought that particular dress home from the Crescent and showed it off to me, so proud of herself. The green shimmered as if it were silk, but given the war time restrictions on that, I don’t know for sure what it was, other than the height of fashion, something to be seen in, with padded shoulders and a hat that matched. Her shoes, black with a moderate heel and a sling back, had an open toe with a bit of a bow from which the toes peeked out from beneath. No doubt any man who saw her and didn’t know who she was would be attracted, and maybe the man who knew her might be attracted as well, but I knew all there was to know, more than enough, to not be fooled. She-cat or she-devil, she was more than any man but myself could handle.
Sally strode into the foyer of the hotel, facing the fountain that graced the middle of the grand entryway and room, looking first to her left toward the hotel desk while pulling off one glove, then to the right, where Olivette was sitting. Sally may have had a common name, given to her as an honorific because of some great aunt or great grandmother or similarly long dead relative who had done something of merit in or for the family, but she was anything but, which is what attracted me to her. Even without her heels, she was nearly as tall as I, and several inches taller than Olivette. As with Olivette, it was her making the clothes rather than the clothes making her. Either of them, both of them, made their clothes look good. Good clothes made them both stunningly attractive. She had slender calves, much more so than Olivette’s which were rather thick, as were her ankles. The rest of her made that bit of an imperfection fairly easy to look past, especially when she wore a long, formal dress. But when she reclined, letting her shoes hang off her feet in front of the fire, I was often repulsed.
But Sally, her legs were long, slender, with just the right amount of curve. She tended to wear dresses that were tight about her legs, with enough of a slit to see some of her thigh while she walked, and to enable her to walk. And her ass, that’s what attracted me to her. It was immaculate sitting at the top of her lithe, slender thighs. Then there was her slender torso, long, thin arms, and breasts that showed just what a woman she was, without overpowering the silhouette, without making her top heavy. Unlike most women, she kept her hair straight and long, almost like a school girl. If someone were to try to imitate her style, they would probably look childish, but Olivette was anything but a child in every way imaginable. Not so much I’d want to take up with her forever, to divorce Olivette, but enough so I’d spend as much time as I could with her before she began to bore me.