Destined to Play (7 page)

Great, moral standing and access to any drugs he so desires.

‘That’s very reassuring, Doctor Quinn, given my current situation.’

He laughs. ‘Honestly, are you alright? Can I help you?’

‘I’m sure I’ll need a lot of help with everything now that you have made me one hundred per cent blind! Are you sure this isn’t permanent?’

‘The drops last twenty-four hours give or take. I’ll redo them tomorrow. Let me know when their impact is fading.’

‘No problem. I’ll be sure to let you know the second any light comes in.’ My voice is laced with sarcasm. I raise my hand wanting to feel my eyes first-hand. They feel so heavy, so bizarre.

‘Oh, no you don’t.’ My hand is guided away. ‘No touching whatsoever. That is why you will also be wearing this blindfold, as a reminder to leave your eyes alone.’

‘No way! That won’t be necessary. I can’t see a thing.’

‘It is and you will.’ He places it over my head. It fits snugly against my eyes and feels silky soft.

‘Well, well, another perfect fit. Did you have it made especially?’ I say jokingly.

No answer. ‘Jeremy?’ There is a long pause.

‘Yes Alex, as a matter of fact, I did.’

‘Come with me.’ Jeremy holds both my hands and assists me carefully up from the bed. I forget I have high heels on and stumble a little before I regain my balance.

‘Wow, this is really, really weird.’ He places his arm around my waist and leads me out of the second bedroom rather precariously. I feel like an invalid. I am stunned this has happened, that I am now blind and fully dependent on Jeremy for the weekend. It makes me feel nervous and tense, but also excited somehow, not knowing what to expect. My dreamlike state has evaporated so I can only hope I’m not entering into a dark nightmare.

‘Here, let’s sit on the lounge.’ He guides me down into the soft velvet cushions. I feel either side of me for armrests but there aren’t any. I wonder how blind people do this every day of their lives? Not knowing how or when things are happening. The positive voice inside me is quietly grateful I had spent some time in the hotel suite earlier. At least I have some familiarity with my surroundings.

A knock on the door startles me.

‘Stay here, I’ll be right back.’ His hands leave mine before I can respond. Jeremy briefly greets whoever is at the door as I sit on the lounge silently like a complete idiot with a blindfold on. I am deeply embarrassed.

I hear noises of plates being efficiently set up and arranged and a bottle crushing into ice, perhaps refreshing the champagne? There is a vague aroma of food in the room. There is no discussion between Jeremy and the ‘door people’ as they go about their business and they remove themselves as quickly as they arrive. I hear Jeremy thanking them and securely closing the door behind them.

He sits beside me on the lounge and places a glass of champagne in my hand.

‘Thank you, Alexa, this means everything to me.’

It is so strange not being able to see that I find myself utterly lost for words, so I don’t say anything. I hear our glasses clink together and feel a desperate need to gulp the bubbles down fast. I swallow as much champagne as physically possible, so urgent is the need for me to drink it. I suddenly feel completely out of control, reality hitting me like a brick on the head. I find myself wishing for another shot of absinthe to numb me from it all. What have I done? Anything could happen … I have literally handed myself to him on a platter. Oh well, what possible difference could another glass of champagne make? At least if I pass out I won’t be conscious of how freaked out I am. The rational voice in my head quickly questions the sanity of this particular logic. I keep tipping the glass up but it must already be empty given nothing is coming out.

‘Whoa, Alex! You never drink that fast!’

‘No. I don’t, Jeremy.’ I finally find my voice. ‘But extreme situations can result in extreme behaviour.’ I place my glass out into the space in front of me.

‘Would you mind filling up my glass again, please? This champagne is delicious.’

‘Are you sure?’ he asks tentatively.

‘Oh, yes, I am very sure I would love another glass of champagne. I would be very happy to pour it myself if you would be kind enough to direct me to the bottle, although I would hate to spill any on the lush, five-star carpet,’ I say pointedly.

‘You’re mad at me?’

Such an emotional rocket scientist, I think to myself sarcastically; maybe his EQ isn’t quite what I thought it was after all. Or maybe it is? I’m not so much mad at him as angry at myself for allowing this ridiculous situation to occur in the first place. The reality of being blind has caught me completely off-guard. It’s one thing to be enticed by the concept, the sensuality of the idea, quite another to know I’ll be living like this for the next forty-eight hours. My emotions are threatening to overwhelm me as the significance of what I have just done settles in to my bones.

As I can’t see him, nor read his emotions, I just keep holding out my empty glass, waiting for him to provide the refill, needing the alcohol to fill the void.

‘Alexandra, are you really angry with me? Honestly?’

Another Alexandra moment. I wait with my glass extended toward his voice. He takes it, refills it and places it back in my hand. Thank goodness. I’m relieved as I raise the bubbly liquid to my lips. I decide to ignore his question, believing it at least gives me some control.

‘Lovely champagne, Jeremy. What is it? I’m not sure I’ve had it before.’

I sense he is bemused at my avoiding his question. Unfortunately, he knows me well enough to recognise the more polite I am being, the greater the emotion I am hiding. Basically, he knows me almost as well as I know myself, if not better. Which is no doubt why I am sitting here in a ball gown, with a blindfold on, in the penthouse suite, trapped for the weekend. It is just all the more frustrating.

‘It’s Krug. We had it when I graduated. You loved it then as well, said it put you in a really great mood and —’

‘Oh, yes, I remember.’ I cut him off, not wanting his version of a trip down memory lane right now. My emotions are in overdrive, all the hypnotic calmness having taken its leave.

‘Well, all the more reason for drinking it now.’ I say as I take another sip. At least I am not gulping it now. I hear him sigh.

‘Will you at least have some
hors d’oeuvres
to go with your champagne?’

I have to agree some food wouldn’t go astray. Even though my mind is spinning and my emotions are all over the place, I’m sure my rational brain wouldn’t be encouraging me to drink any more alcohol without food.

‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ I say very politely, formally. I can just imagine him rolling his eyes at my behaviour.

‘Open your mouth, please.’ He is close to me.

‘In my hand will be fine, thank you.’ It feels good to assert myself.

‘Alex, this is ridiculous.’ I take another sip of champagne in defiance. Maybe being blind doesn’t result in complete dependency after all. I can’t help but allow a small smirk to ripple across my face. He quickly snatches the glass out of my hand.

My smirk vanishes immediately.

‘Open your mouth and I will give you your glass back.’

I am just about to answer back when something small and delicious lands on my tongue.

Taken aback, and with a mouthful of food tickling my tastebuds, I decide to close my mouth and eat it. After all, it would be a shame to waste such tantalising cuisine. Another one arrives not long after. Blini — absolutely delicious. I can taste the strong flavour of smoked trout against the light buckwheat pancake and feel the salmon roe slide around my mouth. The slightest hint of fennel confirms they are just like the ones we had in Russia all those years ago, amazing! Though I’m pleased we are drinking champagne rather than vodka as we were back then. My stomach is very grateful for the food.

‘More?’ I hear him ask. I nod and turn toward him, not really wanting to give him the satisfaction of my words. Something warm and soft arrives this time with an aroma of garlic and herbs.

‘Mmm.’ This time I can’t help but let out a groan in delicious delight. ‘Gorgeous. Scallop?’

‘Indeed it is.’ He dabs the corner of my mouth with a linen serviette. ‘Another?’

‘Yes, please,’ I hear myself answer. After I swallow it he hands me back my glass of Krug.

I sense he is happy that my frustration is dissipating alongside the food and champagne.

Something about good food and wine that lifts the spirit, I think to myself.

‘Care to share your thoughts?’

I eventually come to the conclusion that my anger is a result of my anxiety about losing control, particularly as I am so used to being in control of everything. I allow the emotion to leave me, as it is serving no purpose. Given my current predicament it would make the next forty-eight hours downright miserable for both of us, so I relent and share my thoughts with him.

Although I am still on edge with my blindness and the dependency that surrounds me, it feels better being at ease with Jeremy and allowing the conversation to flow between us.

After a few minutes of banter, Jeremy sidles up against me.

‘So tell me, honestly, how do you feel? Are you having fun?’ He lifts me slowly off the lounge to my feet.

‘Oh. Let me get this straight. You are allowed to ask as many questions as you want but I can’t ask any, is that the way it works?’ He caresses my neck and collarbone with his lips, oh so slowly, his breath like a feather against my skin.

‘Yes, that’s the way it works, for this weekend, anyway. There will be plenty of time for your questions later. So tell me, does this excite you?’ he asks again as his lips locate the top of my breast and I feel a little light-headed as my breath becomes radically uneven for the umpteenth time this evening. His touch engages the rest of my body and my vulva swells and moistens in anticipation. I can’t withhold a slightly muted sigh at the sensation.

‘Oh, so the answer is yes,’ he whispers into my ear as his teeth nibble my lobe.

‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly, ‘it excites me a little.’ Not wanting him to take away my words as he has my sight. His kisses feather and tease my lips.

‘It does me too, very much,’ he says as he lowers my hand to feel the bulge fighting against his trousers. It takes all of my concentration to prevent me from falling to my knees and devouring him then and there. The power of this raw, sexual emotion almost cripples me. I wonder if I know myself at all …

The phone rings at that exact moment which startles me from my fantasy back to reality. He continues to hold my hand so I blindly follow him as he answers it, taking exaggerated, careful steps to balance on my heels.

‘Wonderful, thank you. We are on our way.’ He hangs up. ‘Alex, you look panic-stricken, what’s wrong?’

‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all, why do you ask?’ I say nervously, wringing my hands together.

Can it be that even with a blindfold covering my eyes, he can still read that much expression on my face?

‘Good, are you ready to accompany me to dinner?’ With these words, the panic infiltrates my bones. He can’t be serious, can he?

‘We aren’t really going out to dinner, Jeremy … I can’t possibly go out like this. Please, please tell me you’re joking.’

‘Of course we are. Why on earth would I waste you looking so exquisite and keep you confined to a hotel room? That would be absurd.’

I feel my breath shortening again.
Keep calm, breathe
, I say to myself, but I hear my words tumble out regardless.

‘How many times are you going to send me into overdrive tonight, Jeremy? I can’t take it, it’s too much. I try to get my mind around one thing you are asking of me, leading me into, and wham, then comes the rush of another and another.’

I draw breath momentarily before continuing on my verbal rampage. ‘I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling or even what I should say to you. This situation is too strange for me, unreal, surreal.’

I hear myself talking erratically, quickly, searching for words to account for the emotion that is threatening to totally overwhelm me.

‘I have no filters, Jeremy. You’ve taken them away, or maybe I’ve allowed them to be taken. I don’t know. Either way, it can’t be good. I’ve trained myself for too many years to give considered, thoughtful responses and now listen to me. I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling or doing. Why are you putting me through this?’

Jeremy doesn’t answer, but I sense his closeness and know intuitively that he is staring at me intently. I take a moment to catch my breath and attempt to regain some form of composure. I feel like a child lost in the wilderness, not knowing who to trust or where to turn.

He places his arm around the small of my back, while holding my wrist and firmly steers me toward what I assume is the door of the penthouse. I hear the door open.

‘Oh no, please, Jeremy, let’s stay here. What’s the time, anyway? Isn’t it too late for dinner? I’m not really hungry, we’ve had
hors d’oeuvres
. Really, it would be such a waste …’

I ramble on, wedging my heels deep into the carpet, as I attempt to throw excuses in his unrelenting path.

‘We can’t possibly be seen in public, don’t you understand?’ I’m scrambling for words as he edges me closer to the door. ‘How could you even think about taking me out like this? I’m blindfolded for goodness’ sake and I have no knickers on!’

My heels wave the white flag as they surrender their grip on the floor and I catapult into his arms, and presumably out the door. I try to steady myself as best I can and he holds me firmly in his arms.

‘Where are we going anyway?’ I ask him, desperate for some form of verbal response. His silence is exasperating. He suddenly pushes me firmly against the wall, his face close to mine, his body pressing powerfully against the silkiness of my dress.

‘I know you have questions, Alexa, you always do. As I have told you, this weekend is not about your questions. I have been counting how many you have asked so far and I strongly advise that you stop, as there will be consequences for each one. Now behave yourself!’ he adds sternly. ‘I am taking you to dinner; you look beautiful and you have nothing to be embarrassed about. Now, one more thing … as we are on my time this weekend, I never want you to ask the time again. Do you understand me?’ He is so close I am dizzy with his questions and demands. I am dumbfounded at the sharpness of his words as his heady presence and aroma invade every facet of my space.