SUNDAY, MAY 8, 2011
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 3 (to be cont'd)
In his absence, she looked around herself and noticed appreciatingly the decoration of the large room. A relaxing mix of beige and brown tones highlighted by a gallery of well-chosen paintings, mostly of landscapes. As she let her eyes roam from one to the other of the pictures, she thought she’d better take her stockings off and had just started rolling them down her thighs when James came back and surprised her in that most intimate operation.
“Why don’t you just relax and let me do that for you ? “ he asked, his question more in the tone of an order than anything else.
She blushed like a college girl and hated herself for that, but nodded her assent. Drowsiness was overtaking her as she felt his hands peeling off her stockings and yet avoiding to touch her thighs, her legs, her feet. And all of a sudden, she wanted to feel those fingers, those hands, hard and demanding and she couldn’t refrain from bending her body backwards in a fit of arousal, with a soft little moan which James, from the far end of the lounger, didn’t hear or chose not to notice.
After carefully laying her stockings on the chair with her coat, he took the cup of fuming cocoa and, helping her with his arm around her shoulders, he made her drink in small sips, tenderly, cradling her almost as if she were child. His eyes never left her and he continued smiling enigmatically till she felt her lids become so heavy she couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer.
Laying her carefully down, he whispered some words she didn’t catch but all she wanted now was to have him close whilst she was drifting into a kind of total relax, no longer completely awake, not yet asleep.
James covered her body with a thin, warm cashmere blanket, not without a swift touch at the Stranger’s breasts which were quivering with her breathing, but so fleetingly it could just have happened by chance. She couldn’t be sure. Uncommonly confused and despite her lassitude, she felt a surge of spite for herself first, and then for the man who had welcomed her in his house. For a moment, she thought of getting up and leave, but the sight of the snow through the bay-windows, falling more heavily now than before, and the infinite lassitude she felt, made her sigh with resignation and she let sleep take her.
His smile broadened and a slightly cruel smirk appeared as he sat in the easy-chair close to the Stranger.
James sat there silently for a long time, his elbows on the armrests of the easy-chair and his hands joined under his chin in a pensive pose. He felt a kind of elation at being here, in this solitary house, all noises muffled by the growing layer of snow outside, with only the crackling of the fire to be heard.
The Beautiful Stranger - as he called her – slept fast now, oblivious of everything, but she was obviously dreaming as she writhed from one side to the other of the lounger and let out small sighs, her eyeglobes shifting fast under her slightly slanted eyelids.
Her eyes had been the first thing he had noticed in her, so similar to those of a hind (in shape), but for the deep green that he found almost mesmerizing. She was so…he couldn’t even find the right definition to describe her appeal! She’d been dishevelled, panting, slightly haggard when he opened the door to her, and yet, there had been an instant, almost overwhelming emotion in James, although he succeeded in hiding it.
It had been years since he felt so deeply; the last time he remembered was when he took home from Sotheby’s the delightful and long-yearned Moreau’s painting facing his desk. But that had been over two years ago…
Her slender body outlined under the blanket, the finely chiselled bones of her wrists, neck and face undeniably showed a perfect breeding. He felt like swallowing hard, a kind of constriction in his chest, an unbelievable sudden desire to possess her, to have her, no matter what ! She would be the perfect completion in his collection of rarities and paintings.
His most precious and unrivalled possession.
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