Counterpoint (5 page)

Carla just smiled back at him and
walked into the room. “You weren’t bad, but you need a lot of
practice if you want to follow me,” she teased. “By the way, thanks
for calling the Police, I was in deep trouble with those men; they
were forcing me to transfer my money to their boss’s offshore
account.”

“I want to know what is going on,” Max
demanded, “You promised you would tell me.”

“Yes, I did, but we must leave at
once,” she said, grabbing her backpack and the briefcase. She was
out the door before Max could question her further. A silver Honda
Prelude pulled up outside the house, just as they stepped out onto
the pavement. Max stepped back into the entrance again, thinking
more trouble was on its way.

“Don’t worry soothed Carla, this is my
car, the man is only delivering it. The car is a bit old, but it
will do the job.”

The man got out; she thanked him and
put the luggage on the back seat. They both got in, and she drove
off.

Max pestered her for answers to his
questions, but she refused to explain. Her only comment was that he
would be dead by now or wish he was, but for her help and that
knowing more would not be good for him. She would take him to a
safe place until his van was repaired and returned to him, and then
he should leave Italy. Resigned to the following silence, Max went
to sleep.

Apart from four stops for fuel, food
and the toilet, Carla drove for twelve hours until they reached a
small mountainside town called Rubiana. With towering mountains to
the north, a full moon lit the valley with a pale light,
emphasizing the size of them. It was 11.00pm, and only a few people
were visible on the narrow town streets.

Carla drove up to a wide security gate
serving a large block of shops. Reaching out she tapped in a code
and the gate slid open. It closed as soon as she passed through and
a large roller shutter door opened ahead, it also closed after the
car entered. Lights came on when the door shut and they both got
out of the car, taking their bags with them. Neither of them
spoke.

“This is my little hideaway,” Carla
chuckled, as she unlocked the final, solid inner door.

“Close your eyes Max.”

Reaching for his hand, she pulled him
gently through the opening. “You can open them now,” she said in a
low voice.

Max was astonished at the scene before
him. He was in a large atrium with a fountain in the centre and a
garden set out around it. Plants climbed on three walls, creating a
deep feeling of peace and security. Ahead of them was a two-storey
brick building, topped by a stone parapet. French doors and
balconies on the front looked out onto the garden. Max was
fascinated at the originality of the building and its
surroundings.

“This is truly fantastic,” he murmured.
“Who owns it?”

"I do," said Carla, “this is my
home.”

“No, I don’t believe you, how could
you, you're what, mid-twenties, living like a fugitive, no roots or
family, what are you up to now?”

The smile vanished from her face, hurt
by the mistrust and contempt in his voice.

“Come in,” she said sullenly. “I will
tell you all you need to know.”

Max retorted “That will be a
first.”

The massive pair of entrance doors,
made with sturdy hardwood frames, glazed centres and brass fittings
were set in a red brick arch in the centre of the facade. They
opened easily into a 4m square hall. The floor was of polished
flagstones and in the centre, a richly coloured deep pile silk rug.
The walls were of red clay brick with niches and feature lighting.
The white domed ceiling reflected light down into the room and
contrasted with the dark, curved timber frames rising up from the
corners of the room, meeting in the centre of the dome. The
sparsely furnished room, had antiques around the walls and a
centrepiece of a substantial, carved, dark wood table. The room
smelled faintly of polish and hardwood. The whole effect was
stunning in its simplicity, choice of materials and lighting.

Placing her bag and keys on the table,
she walked through into the lounge, turned briefly to see Max was
following and sat down.

“Take a seat,” She said, as Max looked
around, stunned again at the beautifully appointed, yet welcoming
room. Settling down in a large armchair opposite her, he looked
stern, focusing on her eyes, looking for the telltale eye movement
down to the right when a lie is uttered.

Carla spoke. “I was given this place,
two years ago by an incredible seventy-eight year old man called
the Duke. He is not actually a Duke, but he has all the airs and
graces of one. All those who have the privilege of knowing him,
love him. I don’t know exactly how he made all his money, but he
practically owns the town. Six years ago his wife died tragically
when her car plunged over the side of Angel Pass, near here. He was
emotionally destroyed at her loss.

I met him in London a few months later,
and thought he might be my ticket to an easy life. I was living on
the streets, taking drugs and into thievery and prostitution. I
followed him back to his Hotel, found out his name, and after
cleaning myself up, got his attention the following day.

I am too ashamed of what I did, to tell
you, but he fell for it, and he was hooked. At least I thought he
was at the time, but he was no fool. Anyway, he took me under his
wing so to speak, and bought me a flat here, in the village.

I think he fell in love with me, and
although we were never intimate, he educated me, took me with him
everywhere, including significant social occasions, and helped me
to reach my potential.

He built this place as his private
retreat away from prying eyes for his private business meetings. He
owns the whole building, four streets of shops forming a
quadrangle. The backs of the shops formed the walls of this atrium.
The owners of the shops are trusted friends and their families, so
although they know of its existence, I doubt if any of them have
been in here, apart from the cleaner and maintenance man. The
people who built it were brought in from abroad.

When he went into semi-retirement a
year ago, he gave it to me, just as you see it, as a reward for my
kindness and loyalty. More than I deserve you may think, but I did
bring him back from the depths of despair, and the cost of this
place to him, was but coins thrown to a beggar.”

Max believed her explanation; he could
detect no trace of a lie in her expression. He could imagine how
easy it would be to fall in love with this girl. A tinge of
jealousy ran through him, when he thought more about the Duke’s
closeness to her. Wealth like that would make any man attractive to
some girls he thought, regardless of the man’s age.

Carla fell silent for a moment, then
slowly getting up she said. “I am tired and going to bed, I will
show you your room.”

Walking away, she offered no
opportunity for further discussion, so he followed without
speaking.

His room was extremely luxurious,
small, but with every convenience including French doors to a
balcony overlooking the garden. The lighting was now subdued, the
backlit plants smelled and looked so exotic, little light was
reflected up in the room, most came from the glass roof of the
atrium, where the moonlight shone through.

Carla pointed out the essentials of the
bedroom and walked away saying. “Make yourself at home; I will see
you in the morning.”

Left on his own to explore, he felt
jealous, and angry. He could see no way of competing with the Duke
for her affections, damn it, she did not even seem to like him.

Next morning Max awoke to the sound of
a twenty-year-old Italian girl calling him.

“Good morning, Mr Max. I am the maid,
Maria, I have brought your breakfast, I put it on your
balcony.”

Max muttered. “Thank you,” and she
continued. “It is 9.00am and a lovely morning. Miss Carla has gone
out and will not be back until noon, but asked me to tell you, she
would love to take you to lunch in town, if you would care to join
her. She said don’t worry about what to wear because she will buy
what you want, then.”

Maria continued again,
“There is a gymnasium with a small plunge pool on the right hand
side of the entrance hall if you care to use it. I will be here
cleaning, so if you need me, just call out
Maria
, and I will come to
you.”

The girl was beautiful. She was petite,
had a cute face with high cheekbones, framed by shoulder length
black hair that gleamed in the sunlight, and a natural brown
complexion. She wore an understated grey dress, possibly a little
shorter than it needed to be, a white lace edged pinafore, and flat
soled black shoes. Her legs were slender and shapely, propelling
her gracefully across and out of the room.

Although undeniably stunning,
technically much more so than Carla, Maria did not stir his soul as
Carla did; that unsettled him.

Striding off in just his underpants Max
headed for the Gymnasium. He fancied a workout, a bit of the good
life at someone else’s expense. Sod the rich bitch; he would take
all she had to give. He had worked bloody hard all his life, and
although reasonably well off and secure, he was not in this league.
It is not fair, he thought, I bet she does not appreciate it like I
would.

The gymnasium was well up to
expectations, fitted out with electronically controlled machines to
exercise every muscle. Type in key parameters and a few strength
tests and it worked out an exercise routine for you. It even had a
martial arts robot opponent that you could attack by kicking or
punching. It stood its ground and defended itself by blocking and
countering. Max had a go at it, and was thoroughly trounced. The
blows he received were soft, causing no pain or injury, but
expertly placed.

The pool was small, but a strong
current from a water jet enabled him to swim as hard as he liked
towards it, indefinitely.

The strenuous exercise worked off his
anger, but he could not get Carla out of his mind. Would noon never
come?

At 11.58am, Carla crossed the garden to
the house entrance. Max almost ran to greet her, but then caught
himself. He did not want to get emotionally involved with a young
girl; there would be no future in it, he told himself, just a lot
of heartache.

Her grin faded as she looked at his
face, he did not smile and looked extremely edgy.

She thought to herself. “I like him,
and I am sure he likes me, what is wrong?”

Forcing a smile, she said, “I hope you
enjoyed yourself while I was out, would you like to go to lunch
now?”

“Yes, very much,” Max replied, “But
what is this about buying clothes?”

“Ah! My little treat, ” she replied. “I
would love you to come out with me this evening. I want you to meet
the Duke so evening dress will be required. Would you like
that?”

“Yes of course,” said Max, his voice
trailing off slightly, as doubt crept into his mind.

At 7.00pm, the Duke’s Silver Shadow
arrived at the service entrance of Carla’s hideaway. It drove in as
the gate opened and on through the opening roller shutter door.

Max was pacing nervously in the garden
when Carla came out and announced, “Time to go!”

He heard her approach, but did not turn
to face her until she spoke. Never having been to high society do’s
he felt totally out of his depth.

Although the black tuxedo fitted
perfectly and he looked good in it, he felt embarrassed. The Rolex
she bought for him epitomized the absurd class divide he had to
face. Nice as it was, €10.00 was more than enough for a damn watch,
€3600.00 was obscene!

He felt like a bought man. Why she
insisted on buying it for him was beyond him, but she seemed so
happy when he chose it that he could not hurt her feelings, by
refusing to accept it.

As he turned to her, the idea of being
paraded in front of her Glitterati friends, like an overdressed
country bumpkin, and letting her down, was too much. He had to
refuse to go!

Then he saw her! His mouth was already
open to protest at going, it stayed open until he could utter. “My
God, you’re truly stunning.”

Her long, straight blond hair was
re-styled in loose curls that framed her perfectly balanced
features. The slightly pert nose, cheeks that tended to dimple and
mischievously sensual mouth, with small, evenly spaced, flawless
white teeth. Her natural, sun kissed, fair skin glowed healthily,
giving it a strength, many blonds lack.

The blue of her eyes was emphasized by
subtle blue mascara, and complimented with gold jewellery, mounted
with sapphires.

The low cut, slightly short, simple
black dress had been tailored just for her. The thin fabric covered
her firm, slim body like a second skin and offered no hiding place
for normal bra and panties, yet through skilful dressmaking,
skimmed over areas best left to a man’s imagination. Classy, not
tarty, less was more.

His eyes moved down from her face to
her breasts, they were sufficient, full and firm, pale blemish free
skin, cradled by the contrasting black fabric.

A small tattoo on her
left shoulder, hinted at a less respectable past, although in the
scheme of things, this imperfection re-classed her from
Barbie Doll
to
Living perfection
.

Lithe and feminine, proclaimed her
slender waist, beautifully rounded hips and flat stomach. Her ass
was damn cute too! Although athletic, her long slender legs were
not overly curvy or muscular; they stirred a lustful desire in him
to explore them as his gaze drifted lower.

The dainty pair of black, thin-strapped
sandals with high heels clasped her small feet. The diamante trims
on the sandals twinkling in the garden lights.