“It’s complicated and I need to discuss it with you before I do it,” I answer. “I think we should talk about it in person,” I say, keeping my fingers crossed.
“I don’t know, Mike,” she says. “What if Aunt Cyn finds out and spills everything before you can stop her?”
“She never comes into the bookstore anymore,” I answer, having thought ahead about where we could talk. “I work from five to nine tonight. Can you get away?”
“Okay,” she says quietly. “What time?”
“Whenever you can get away, I’ll make time,” I answer confidently, hoping it’s not a busy night.
“Okay, probably around 7:30,” she says.
“Perfect!” I want to tell her that I can’t wait to see her, that I’ve missed her and I love her but I’m afraid I’ll scare her. Neither one of us disconnects the call and the ensuing silence speaks volumes.
“Mike?” Jasmine finally says.
“I’m here.”
“I’ll see you tonight,” she says and disconnects.
Tomorrow is Thursday. I still have to arrange for the equipment and figure out what time to start my stakeout. I’m pretty sure I won’t need the stuff tomorrow but I’d like to have it just in case. One of my friends said he could check out everything I need from the computer lab. I text him to meet me there in half an hour.
I get the equipment along with a brief tutorial and just barely make it to work on time. It’s a slow night and the two and a half hours from 5:00 to 7:30 drag by with my anticipation building. I can’t wait to see Jasmine. She’s right on time and is as beautiful as ever. I have a quick pang of guilt about Barbara but push it out of my mind as I rush up to greet her.
“Thanks for coming. We can talk over here,” I say, leading her to a group of comfy chairs in the corner. It’s a slow night and there is no one else around.
“It’s good to see you, Mike,” Jasmine says, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m so sorry about everything,” she blurts out as tears well up in her eyes.
“It’s okay,” I assure her as I take her hand. “I think we can make it right.”
“How?” she asks as she tries to sniff back the tears. I explain to her about Barbara’s idea for blackmailing her Aunt and Uncle with pictures of his indiscretions.
“You’re going to take incriminating photographs?” she asks. “Like a paparazzi?”
“Well, it’ll actually be incriminating video, but yes, that’s the idea.”
“Wow,” is all she says.
“I just want to make sure that you want me to do it,” I tell her, still holding her hand, enjoying the hint of intimacy it offers.
“Not only do I want you to do it but I want to go with you!” Jasmine says.
“Wait a minute. I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” I answer, although I don’t know why it isn’t.
“Why not? It’s me that she’s blackmailing and if we’re going to turn the tables on her I want to be part of it. Oh Mike, do you really think it’ll work?” Jasmine throws her arms around me and presses her lips to mine. “I’ve missed you so much!”
“We have to get the video first but if we do, then yeah, I think it’ll work,” I answer before pushing my tongue into her welcoming mouth. I break the kiss when I hear a page for a bookseller to customer service.
“I have to go, but I’ll text you later and we’ll decide where to meet tomorrow night,” I say, kissing her again quickly before running over to the customer service desk. Fuck! This better work.
Jasmine and I text back and forth late into the night and then most of the next morning. I quiz her about her uncle’s typical Thursday night schedule and we agree to meet right after Jasmine gets out of school.
The plan for tonight is just reconnaissance. We need to know what time they arrive, whether they drive separately and which room they use for their little fuckfest. Jasmine and I meet at the bookstore and leave her car there, assuming her uncle could recognize it. We go out to dinner, catching up like old friends as we wait for it to get dark. It’s barely past dusk when we park down the street from Stephanie’s house and she snuggles against me as we wait.
“What if Aunt Cyn calls our bluff?” Jasmine asks as I wrap my arm around her and she rests her hand on my thigh.
“She won’t,” I answer, squeezing her against me as I breathe in her perfume. “You smell nice,” I say, wishing I could say so much more.
“I’ve really missed you,” she answers. “How did you and Barbara start planning something like this?” she asks out of the blue. I must have tensed or blushed because she picks up on it right away. “You fucked her, didn’t you?” she asks, sitting up and looking me in the eye.
“I can explain,” I answer lamely. God, that sounds so fucking guilty.
“It’s okay, Mike,” she says, settling back down against me. “I didn’t really give you much choice but to see other women.”
“That’s not what happened,” I reply. “Believe me, I was not looking for anyone else. I was totally lost without you.” I tell her the whole thing from start to finish beginning with how Barbara showed up in the bookstore after confronting her husband and ending with her plan to confront her husband again with the video.
“She was good, wasn’t she?” Jasmine asks, which is the last thing I expected her to say.
“She wasn’t you,” I answer, hoping to deflect her question but she’s not easily deterred.
“But the sex was good, right?” she asks. How the fuck am I supposed to answer that?
“Jasmine,” I start but she cuts me off.
“I mean she’s beautiful and she’s a lot younger than Aunt Cyn and Shelly. I just think she was probably really good in bed.”
“I’m not going to see her again,” I answer.
“Because she wasn’t any good?” she laughs. I feel better now that we’re bantering.
“What is with you and how good Barbara was in bed?” I ask. “Have I ever asked you how Jimmy was in bed?”
“Do you want to know?” she teases.
“No! I don’t want to be with anyone but you,” I answer, when some movement catches my eye. “What have we here?” I ask, as I watch Stephanie’s garage door go up.
“What?” Jasmine asks, sitting up and following my line of sight. A big SUV with tinted windows backs out of the garage and drives off before the garage door is completely closed.
“She’s leaving?” Jasmine asks as we both stare at the fading taillights.
“Okay, let’s think about this,” I say, visualizing a likely scenario. “What would the neighbors think if three black men visited a single white woman at her house after dark?”
“You think she’s going to meet them somewhere?” she asks.
“Barbara was pretty sure they met here,” I answer. “Wait a minute,” I say, snapping my fingers for emphasis. “She’s going to meet them somewhere and drive them back here. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“She drives into the garage with her tinted windows and when the door closes behind her they all go into the house,” Jasmine completes the thought process.