Page 96 of Naughty Nelle

My eyes returned to the box and came upon a small, white envelope with my name printed on it. Draping the dress over one arm, I reached for it. The flap unsealed, I slipped out the contents. My eyes grew big as I read the note and so did the explosions that were rocking my body.

Ms. Greene ~ Please wear this tonight. I shall collect you at 8 p.m. Meet me downstairs. ~ Ari

P.S. Please do not wear pantyhose.

A mixture of holy cow and damn him saturated my brain. How the heck did he know where I lived? Wait. Of course, he must have gone through my bag while I was asleep on the train. He got my address from my driver’s license. He must know everything about me. My height. My weight. My checking account number with my home phone number. My social security number. What kind of gum I chewed (Big Red). Crap. I bet he even thumbed through my sketchpad and read the journal I kept with my favorite sayings.

One of them flashed into my head. When in doubt, leave it out. Damn it! I should have never let him sink his cock inside me. None of this would have happened. None of it. Except…there was no doubt. I had wanted him as much as he had wanted me. My mind flitted to the ravishing redhead. Though they looked like they belonged together, maybe I had jumped to the wrong conclusion and she was just an acquaintance. Or just one of his many girlfriends.

Truthfully, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be among the many. When it came to men, I lacked confidence. Added to this, I was going through a very vulnerable period of my life with my mother being so ill and my future insecure. And there was another problem. I couldn’t see him tonight. I had plans with Lauren. Trust me, she rubbed it in my face that she was able to get those reserved-seat tickets for the Black Eyed Peas because her father’s investment company managed Fergie’s assets, and that I was lucky she counted me as one of her best friends.

The shrill ring of my phone hurled me out of my thoughts. It must be Lauren. I dreaded answering it because she got super mad if I didn’t call her back right away. For a friend, she was very high maintenance.

Finally, after the fifth ring, just before the call went to my voicemail, I ran over to it and picked up the receiver.

“Saarah,do you like your dress?”

Gah! It was him. The temperature in the kitchen suddenly rose ten degrees. And my heartbeat accelerated. The phone shook in my hand.

“It’s very nice.” Who was I kidding? It was the most fabulous dress I’d ever owned. And the most expensive.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you in it.”

Shit! How the hell was I going to tell him that I had plans? That I couldn’t see him tonight.

CLICK.

I wasn’t. My mother always preached: No risk, no gain. I immediately dialed Lauren’s number. It went straight to her voicemail. Beep.

“Lauren, something’s come up. I can’t go to the concert tonight. I’ll explain tomorrow. Have fun.”

CLICK.Phew! That saved me from having a nasty, drawn-out conversation with her. I suppose I could also try her on her cell, but truthfully, I didn’t want to. A pang of guilt shot through me, but I reminded myself that it wasn’t like she shoved out a fortune for the ticket; it was comped. Plus, she had her entourage so she wouldn’t be alone. I’d still pay the consequences tomorrow, but right now, I had to get ready for my date with Trainman.

Taking my new dress with me, I skipped toward my adjacent bedroom. A loud knock at my door stopped me in the hallway. Retracing my steps, I peered through the peephole. Mrs. Blumberg. She was rather entertaining, but quite frankly, I had no time for her right now.

I unbolted the door. Chewing a big wad of gum, she faced me. Half my size, the elderly woman was holding a shopping bag. While she always seemed to have a grocery bag in her hand, the Bergdorf’s bag was unusual.

“I was just on my way to shul when this came for you,” she said in her thick “New Yawk” accent.

She handed me the bag bag. Inside was another gift-wrapped package, this one significantly smaller, maybe a foot long by six inches. My heart fluttered. Now what?

Mrs. Blumberg’s crinkly eyes fixated on the black dress that was still folded over my arm. “Hot date tonight? I hope he’s Jewish.”

God, she was nosy. And so annoying. I didn’t respond.

“So, how’s your mother doing?”

Sadness swept over me. After I left the hospital, my mother was scheduled for another treatment. They always made her feel sick to her stomach. I fought back tears.

“She’s hanging in there.”

“Oy!”My neighbor shook her head, a bright-orange ball of frizz. “I’ll say a prayer for her tonight. You know, you should come with me one Friday.”

“I will and thanks.”

Mrs. Blumberg meant well. Despite her constant meddling, it was hard not to like her. Her eyes lingered on the shopping bag.

“So, what are you waiting for? You gonna show me whatch’ya got?”

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