Good Girls Blush

I arrive home to lavender lilacs tied with a pink satin cord at my front door. Mixed with the glorious fragrance is a man’s cologne -- but, which scent, Polo or Safari? In other words, who left the hothouse bundle -- Frankie, sporting Polo, or Clancy, donning Safari? My name is Maria Magliani. I’m a forty-something bottle-blond saucy-entrepreneur, hell-bent on success and satisfaction -- Jagger style. Daddy always boasts that I acquired poise and self-confidence in college. I also mastered the art of manipulation -- the procedure performed without a chiropractor. Previously my former flame, Frankie Pirelli and new heartthrob Clancy McClavey joined forces in seeking my affections. Shamefully I admit to toying with their egos. Frankie, a high school sweetheart, hails from a prominent Sicilian family, anchored in waste management. Clancy, by contrast, descends from Irish blood lines and proudly holds the title, Fire Marshal for the City of Des Moines. I pick up the purple flowers, and after sensing hot breath on my neck, I pivot and smile. “Oh, it’s you. I might have known.” Poised before me stands wild child Frankie, peering with intensity and reeking of Polo cologne. He beams too with an apparent visual stimulation, rekindling a fire in me. He lifts the house key from my hand and slides it into the lock. He shoves the door open and hustles me inside. Pinning me against one of the etched-glass side-lights, he hunkers down and begins his pursuit by planting smooches on my cheeks, then all over my face, ears, arms…parts palpitate while passions rage. What’s a girl to do? * * * I debated my options; though, after a flash of apprehension, I rammed full-steam into a flesh-to-flesh tango with Frankie, eventually culminating in a three-month tryst. Once the emotional ride was over, I found myself “Alone Again (Naturally).” My cell rings, snarling my daydream. “Hey, Maria,” a husky voice charges the air. ‘”What’s up, Clancy?” I blink as I’m welcomed back to reality. “Just finished a twenty-four-hour shift,” he announces. “I was thinking after a quick nap, we might cruise to Ranaldo’s on 3rd for Baked Cavatelli and Steak de Burgo. I love the way Chef Pietro prepares the sauce for the beef.” “Perfect.” I salivate, rubbing my hands with pleasure. “Oh yeah, the sauce: garlic, basil, butter. Scrumptious. What time you thinkin’?” “Around 7:00? I’ll phone for reservations. Shouldn’t be a problem on a Tuesday night.” I picture Clancy’s powerful 6’ 2” build, with a swath of brown wavy hair framing emerald eyes. I could drown in those eyes. What in the world was I thinking when I succumbed to Frankie’s advances? Point taken; I wasn’t thinking. At least not with my head. “Excellent. Want to rendezvous at my place or the restaurant?” His firm lips tinge my thoughts. Particularly the little void above the middle of his mouth. I imagine lashing my tongue over the impression, succeeded by the sparks from his tongue on my skin. “I’ll swing by and pick you up, Maria. That way I won’t worry about you getting home later.” Wow. What a nice guy. Sounds romantic and reassuring. One person in this world is worried about me. A short time ago my husband, Michael died suddenly and mysteriously, leaving me to fend for our son, Chip, and two thriving restaurants. After my pizza pub unexpectedly roasted to the ground, and Chip was diagnosed with bipolar disorder, new-found friend, Clancy stepped up and bolstered me with emotional support. “Sweet.” I approve. “Come by after you catch some shuteye.” I click off. The dinner arrangements whet my appetite, though not as much as Clancy’s bod. I smack my lips, then push away from the kitchen castle grey granite countertop, eager to design a polished sexy look for the firefighter. I’ll team a white silk sleeveless camisole with a geometric-print pencil skirt. Bare legs and patent pumps. At my neckline, dangling from silver chains will swing a small gemstone cross, a memento of my Catholic upbringing and a cue to remain in the state of grace. I’ll top off the outfit with a cropped, black chiffon bolero. After all, I am a black widow, poised to eat my prey. Lord, I have been alone too long.