The overwhelming scent of the crisp white linen jasmine flower drifted up to her nose. It was not unusual for her to be here, as she had been coming here for over a year. The scent of the delicate flowers were mixed with the aromas of a distant busy kitchen, inundated with orders of cordon bleu cookery from the city gents and their guests. The smell of sweat and toil in the kitchen was hidden from her senses as she waited. Leaning against the cool marble pillar she rested back her head. It was stifling hot and she felt relief for an instant before her face began to boil again. She squinted as the eternal glare of the blazing summer sun was upon her eyes. Slipping down her bargain basement shades she scanned the area before her, nibbling her lip and feeling a little apprehensive. Although it was a daunting thought to be discovered, she knew this would not stop of her own accord. The mere thrill of what she had been doing for all this time was far too unbearable to even contemplate bringing to an end.
She heard the rough sounds of feet upon gravel approaching behind her and she smiled to herself. The footsteps grew closer and she could hardly breathe……..
As the touch of his slim hand met her shoulder and squeezed it, she thought back to their first meeting. It was so clear in her mind as if it was yesterday, although it was in truth over 20 years ago. The heavy thud of the music as he approached in the dark, the smooth fringe covering his crystal blue eyes although they still shone brightly like the facets in zircon. There was no speech, only a meeting of two minds as they drew closer and the music dictated their movement until the end of the song. The gaze so intense that she could do nothing but be lost in it and totally mesmerised. The cut of his shirt tailored and fitting his lithe frame stood out amongst those others around him. The sand coloured suede boots which matched his hair and demonstrated his ability to dance rather than shuffle awkwardly.
His voice as he leaned forward and spoke softly in her ear was educated and she struggled to detect the accent as it was not evident.
Who could have possibly known what would happen over the passage of time and how this meeting would affect the rest of her life in such a way.
His psychological state was like a tangled knot of electrical cables. If only he could express this, but how, when even his own family would not understand any of it. He had read of similar cases in his mother’s magazine which he secretly read unbeknownst to her. He could sympathise with their inner torment, but this frustration manifested itself in one way only, his coldness. The icy cool blue eyes although enticing were also menacing and could actually look disturbing when he observed himself in the mirror.
His background was very eminent and he could never pretend to be something less than this from his appearance. That would be deemed ungrateful in his eyes.
Although he was not pretentious it had to be said, how this had come to pass was a mystery, but perhaps inherited from his father who although wealthy, was down to earth.
This girl had affected him, this could not continue, as to accept that he felt something, anything at all, was beyond belief and would threaten the world he had built around him.
The overwhelming scent of aftershave caught her senses. The Italian essence was striking. Pungent. Hypnotic. Erotic. Not since that first meeting had she ever forgotten it. In fact, if she ever happened to pass someone else wearing it, a wry smile would spread across her face. It matched his style and panache. The crease in his designer denim jeans as crisp as a brand new bank note in ones palm.
The jingle of his car keys was music to her ears, a symphony of pleasure and longing. The corporate BMW he owned was not in keeping with the real him. Of course this side of his personality was hidden from the madding crowds, only those in tight knit circles were aware of the second personality. His BMWs boot had a hidden partition in which his tools of the trade were stored. A leather holdall containing the secrets of his innermost self which he now held.
Following him, her eyes flickered around nervously. Her mauve suede shoes uncomfortably tight, scuffed against the loose gravel. If anything she prayed for silence under her feet, anything to draw attention away from herself. What if someone recognised her, which would be disastrous, for both of them? Her heart was thumping in her chest with fear. Crushing. She drew a breath. Gulped.
His purposeful stride portrayed his confident almost arrogant character. It was as if at times she didn’t exist. A mere irritation shuffling behind him aimlessly. His head huddled over his mobile, scrolling, tapping. As usual she waited by the entrance to the hotel lobby. She watched in the reflection of the open door as he took out his designer pen and signed the paperwork that the receptionist issued. With a last glance across the path, she bit her lip nervously, turned, and stepped now silently on the deep pile garnet red carpet leading to the lifts. He was waiting. As usual.
What was not usual was the scene that awaited her. On entering the hotel room, Guy tossed his BMW keys into the bowl with the others, surveyed the other couples in the room, opened his holdall of his own expensive silk lingerie, turned to Jess and smiled.