Rolling In Sweetened Cream

Bowen held the sweaty limp photo in his hand as the oldest of his adopted sons said goodbye and sped down the driveway to catch his ride to baseball practice. The boy had insisted that he look at it immediately because it was sent out by the coach to update everyone of who the new Snack Queen was for supplying treats to the boys. Bowen smiled as he watched the boy’s sprint that had fooled many a pitcher while he stole bases. Adopting the fifth-grade boy and his two younger brothers had never been a mistake, despite the spontaneous, and sometimes awkward, adventures of learning how to be a new-found parent.

Climbing into his truck, he flipped the soggy paper over in his hand and slapped it against the center of the steering wheel to flatten it out for viewing. He stopped pulling the seat belt over his chest when his eyes landed on the full frame of a woman encircled by the reaching arms of the players seated around her on the field. He knew that look all too well and it took his breath away. It was the look that captured him the first day he met her and it was doing it now. He gulped; it had been two years since their breakup.

Bowen sighed, dropped his head with guilt that his body still felt her sensual effect on him. He clicked his seat belt. Then he rolled his wedding ring, willing to bring his wife’s glowing smile before him to drown out his arousal. His wife of one year had nursed his hurt after the breakup and waited for him to recover, all the while praying for him and encouraging him to take the job his supervisor recommended he apply for. It was the best job he ever had and it he owned it all to her encouragement.

He tightened his lips. When a friend at church had said three boys needed a home after their parents died in an auto accident, she immediately looked at him for the agreement that sealed these kids as part of our family.

He slid his forefinger over the silky smooth image. Over her figure. According to his son, the photo had traveled from physical education class inside his back pocket. He had gotten into a water bottle fight on the way home and it got soaked. Bowen chuckled. His son had the same wild side he had known in the photographed woman.

Suddenly he was riveted back to the dim lights of their favorite nightclub as they danced to the tunes of a hot blues band. The dance floor was crowded and sweaty and she clung closer to steady her footing. He embraced her tighter into his chest. His head swam. Sitting here in the dirty work truck he could still smell her perfume as she rubbed against him as though spreading sweetened cream on hot corn.

He inhaled. Heat rose up his groin.

He let go of the photo as though it were a habanero, letting it fall between his knees to sizzle on the floor. He grabbed the wheel hard with both hands and groaned. Would he ever be free of that part of him? That insatiable wildness? Could it take away the life he had just built without her? In one swell loop?

He unclicked the seat belt and swept up that burning edge of temptation. He jumped down to the pavement, smashing it inside his fist till it shrunk to the size of a Foos ball.

In those painful days he flew through life like a kite loose on a string but his future wife was the one on the shore holding the binding thread, gradually pulling him back to sand and sea. He smiled. He had proposed to her on the beach.

He stepped toward the trash at the entrance of the grocery store and swung his arm as though winding up for a pitch. He heard it ping the metal rim. To charge off the aroused energy, he strode to the far side of the parking lot.

“Hey Bowen!” came a voice behind him.

Bowen turned to see a  baseball team father carrying grocery bags to a car, “Hi there.”

“Hold on!” the man dropped his bags into the trunk, shut it and walked up to Bowen. “Did you see the photo of the new parent member to the team?”

“Yeah.”

“What a looker, huh.”

“Yeah.”

“Coach tells me she took the job at the local TV station. Her pic is part of her promotion to the community. She’s not a parent. Not on the team.”

“She’s not actually providing snacks to our kids?”

“Nope. Just a publicity stunt to get her picture in all the papers and news casts.”

Relief swept through Bowen’s shoulders. He wouldn’t have to see her at team games.

“Quite a looker isn’t she.”

Bowen felt his lower torso tingle. “Knew her back in the day,” he muttered.

The man looked at Bowen hard. “What? You passed her up  . . .”

Bowen raised both hands in the air for emphasis, “Her looks don’t tell you the whole story. She’s comes with a lot of strings.”

“Well, I’ll be,” he rubbed the side of his chin, “I don’t know if I could pass up a catch like that.”

“I paid a high price to get out of the relationship and I’m very happy with my new family.”

“Good for you. Good for you.” He motioned toward his car, “Look I gotta go. My wife, bless her soul, is waiting for me to bring home the goods for dinner.”

“She trusts you and you’re a lucky man. Treat her right. She deserves it.”

He saluted as he departed, “Gotcha!”

The conversation helped put Bowen at ease so he headed into the store. The electric doorway flushed a cool breeze at him as he entered. There was a display of sporting goods and sporting drinks on displays near the entrance and Bowen diverted to the right to walk around. What he discovered was a man with a video camera on his shoulder. When he looked left to see what the commotion was about, he saw her.

She stood in sleek shiny exercise gear. Her hair was held back with a headband and she held a water bottle in one hand. There was another man holding a reflective silver board in the air that enhanced the external lighting onto her face. Her perfect complexion glowed and overshone the whole display behind her.

He meant to look away but couldn’t pry his eyes off her astounding ability to overtake a scene, a room, or a conference. He knew that because he had accompanied her to those events. She had the statue that would pivot all camera eyes on her wherever she went as though walking naked on a red carpet to the Academy Awards.

He dropped his hands lower and willed his feet to move when she saw him. There was an annoying hardening in his pants. He tried to turn sideways to avoid her call but his feet refused to move. She raised an arm as though calling for a waiter at a restaurant and said, “Well, here he is right now. My Prince Charming.”

The two media men looked at him. The camera man urged him forward. The man with the screen said, “It’s about time. We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Look, don’t be so hard on the guy. He had to drive home and get that great team shirt on. I wanted him ready for the shoot.” She wiggled her forefinger at him. “Come on game boy. Do your team proud and stand next to me good lookin’.”

Bowen inhaled slow and steady. Didn’t move. “Can’t. On a mission.”

“Come on handsome, you’re the best local tie-in.” She rolled her shoulders seductively as though promising more. “Do it for me, won’t you? I don’t want just any fella. I want you.” She pointed at him, whispered as though breathing into his ear as she had done years before, “You’re tried and true.”

When she said those words, his desire fell through the floor. He inhaled slowly. She hadn’t changed at all. She was still the lady who got what she wanted when she wanted it by her pure insistence. Bowen’s wife never had to manipulate him; her clear character called to him loud and clear. He knew in that instance which lifestyle fed him a life worth living.

He flipped his eyes from hers and looked up the consumer aisle. His feet moved him easily. His arms and legs relaxed the farther he left her behind.  As he progressed, he placed a hand on the middle of his chest and smiled. He could tell his wife all about this experience with the supposed "Snack Queen" without any hindrance of guilt or worry.