Eternity (7 page)

Pulling on the faded cotton, polyester mix shorts and slightly stretched and out of shape t-shirt I eye myself in the mirror, no wonder I only wear these to bed. I pull the hem of the t-shirt to one side and tie it in a small knot, at least it hides just how askew it is; there is nothing I can do about the shorts however. Plus the only shoes I have are the holed, but comfy, old trainers I wore on the flight.

Pulling the hair band off my wrist I tug my hair back into a scruffy bun, then clip the straggling bits up out of the way. One last glance at the mirror, this will just have to do.

The gym is tiny, but has just about every machine you could need crammed into it. There are a few die-hard athletic types in there, pushing weights, with their sizeable muscles rippling under the strain. They pause only for a second as I walk by, each giving me their own questionable looks. Sorry boys, but I’ve got my eye on a bigger prize, I think to myself, smiling. It’s all about the mindset, so Caz keeps telling me; think confident, be confident!

Starting with the treadmill, I switch my ipod to a racy little dance mix and off we go.

Two hours later I emerge, sweating profusely, my hair now disobediently escaping the hair band in every direction, man I haven’t worked out that hard in years, if ever! Now it’s just back to my room for a quick shower then on to the Spa to get waxed to within an inch of my life. If only I had known yesterday that I would be going on this ‘date’ I wouldn’t have been so quick to poo-poo the waxing option on the Spa menu.

Turning the corner past the main foyer that leads to my building and I freeze. You have got to be kidding me, Carlos dead ahead, casually walking towards me next to what has to be the most beautiful woman I have ever seen; She’s all olive skinned, with perfectly styled, shiny black hair, flowing down over her shoulders, wearing a tight pencil skirt and killer heels which highlight her curves in all the right ways, with legs I couldn’t get even if I worked out every day!

There’s nowhere to run and I definitely can’t turn around now, I’ve already been spotted, shit, shit! OK just keep your head down and maybe he won’t recognise you, who am I kidding? Earth if you could just open up and swallow me now I will be forever in your debt, please? I whisper a silent prayer. Nope? Great, thanks!

He is less than 3metres away, just keep walking, just keep walking, “ah!” I screech as I stumble over my uncoordinated feet, only just managing to stay upright. Oh come on now! That is just not fair. Catching his eye I can see he is amused by my misfortune, little Miss Perfect sports a smirking grin, waving her goodbye to him as he stops in front of me on the path, she throws him a wink if sharing a private joke on my account.

“Ms. Mavers” he nods at me, still smiling as he takes in every last inch of my embarrassing appearance, “been taking advantage of the gym facilities I see, I must ask did you enjoy your trip?” he questions with a chuckle.

All I can manage is a tight smile at his humorous remark as my cheeks turn an unmistakable shade of scarlet. “I err….yes...well…yeah” is as close to a sentence as I can muster.

“I look forward to our dinner tonight, Seven wasn’t it?” it’s as though the more of a mess I become, the more cool and collected he is.

“Yes, Seven” I reply, still not able to maintain eye contact. Out of nowhere I see his hand reach out and clasp my own clammy one, bringing it up to meet his lips he plants an air light kiss on my knuckles, as my eyes finally meet his, it’s as though his gaze is searching my very soul. His green eye’s burning with an intensity I’ve never felt before. My mouth drops open and I can’t even blink for fear of him vanishing into thin air if I do, if this is some kind of dream I don’t want it to end.

With that he lowers my hand makes a slight bow and walks away. I am left stuck to the spot watching him continue down the path as if nothing has happened. As he reaches the corner of the foyer building he turns flashing me his superstar smile briefly, before continuing.

I hadn’t even noticed I had been holding my breath this whole time, letting it out triggers the feeling to slowly return to the rest of my body. I can’t deny this carnal, animal instinct, I want him and for some unknown reason I can’t begin to fathom, he seems to want me.

I’m running late, I had showered before the Spa, but I hadn’t factored in needing to shower again after to remove the last traces of sticky wax. My legs weren’t too bad, but the waxing has left great red welts across the skin of my under arms and bikini line, what was I thinking? I should have just shaved, seriously what do women see in this?

The ‘beauty’ therapist had given me some calming lotion to apply afterwards, so as soon as I’m out of the shower I lather it on the worst bits, leaving it to absorb as I use my new coconut body butter over everywhere else. It has a fine gold glitter in it which leaves a faint shimmer on your skin, which according to the tub, ‘delicately catches the light and gives your skin a warm glow’. I don’t know about that, but it does compliment the slight tan I have going on.

I pull on the best underwear I can find, which vaguely matches, how I wish I had the forethought to bring my (never previously worn) fancy lace ensemble. Caz bought it for me last Christmas in an attempt to spice up my love life after a particularly drunk, holiday time confession I made to her about how much it was lacking, it was consequently shoved in the back of my knicker drawer never to see the light of day again!

What I wouldn’t give for it now! Oh well, at least this bra is strapless and padded. Slipping on my pale green summer evening dress over the top, I adjust its spaghetti straps and pull the back of the bra up to hoist my cleavage to an acceptable level.

The dress is perfect, an old favourite of mine, it has a fitted silk slip in a slightly darker shade of green, that stops mid-thigh, with a looser, sheer fabric over-lay that stops at the edge of the slip on one side, but flows right down to the knee on the other side; it’s sexy, but classy while also able to cover a multitude of sins. Its low cut front draws attention to my now impressive breasts (albeit it slightly enhanced with the help of the padded bra).

Teamed with white strappy heels and a delicate diamond pendant necklace with matching earrings, I think I’ve pulled of glamorous, yet understated.

My hair is too wavy, but I don’t have time to straighten it as it’s already six forty and I haven’t even done my make-up yet. All I can do is pull it into a ponytail and stick in a white fabric flower clip to hide the hair band and add a little flourish. Just as I’m adjusting the clip and smoothing my unruly hair into place there is a knock at the door. No, no, he can’t be early, I’m not ready yet!

“Err just one minute” I shout out, right just throw on some mascara, you wanted understated, so that’s what it will have to be. One eye down “I’ll just be one minute” I shout re-iterating.

“Take your time, I’m early” comes the muffled reply.

OK, mascara rushed on, luckily without poking myself in the eye with it. A quick spray of perfume, wrists, cleavage, behind the ears and I’m as ready as I can be. One last look in the mirror, make up will do, dress not tucked into pants, good, hair passable, shoes on, I grab my clutch bag and head to the door.

“Ms. Mavers!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes opening wide as he looks me up and down, “you sure as hell scrub up well! You look ravishing!” I smirk, ecstatic at his reaction, if I wasn’t so weak at the knees right now I’d lean forward placing my fingers under his chin and push his gaping mouth shut, instead I settle for simply saying “please, call me Kate”.

“Sorry, Kate” he softly corrects himself, “are you ready to go?” he asks.

“As I’ll ever be” I beam back at him.

Carlos bends his arm and extends his elbow for me to link my arm around, I graciously oblige, lowering my eyes as I do. I don’t often wear heels so the support is more than welcome.

Leading me to the beach front he turns into the French bistro, ooh I love French Cuisine. The restaurant manager rushes over beaming, at which point Carlos address’s him in Spanish, with a quick nod he soon scarpers away again; looking up at Carlos and delicately raising my eyebrow, expectantly waiting for an explanation, he simply smiles mischievously back and says “come” pulling gently at my arm he leads us through the room, past the other diners and to a door with a clear sign on it warning ‘Staff only, No Entry’ I’m becoming ever more puzzled as we reach a stair well behind it.

Turning to me, but without saying a word, that grin still spread across his lips, he lets go of me and sweeps his arm out, signalling for me to continue up the stairs. Without his solid frame supporting me, I know I’m going to be wobbly, teetering upstairs in these shoes, so I gratefully grasp onto the hand rail on my right and endeavour to make my ascent look as elegant as possible. As he follows me, one step behind, he positions himself to my left and softly places his right hand on the small of my back.

The feeling is divine, I can safely say I prefer this kind of contact to the arm link; it’s much more seductive, but not so much as to cross over to the realms of sleaziness.

At the top of the stairs there is a fire door, what is he up to? Keeping his hand in place on my lower back he leans past me and pushes on the bar, easing it open with a loud creak. With a delicate push of encouragement from him, I step out onto the roof; the whole area is lit with tiny twinkling candles in glass jars and white fairy lights draped around the walls. In the centre stands a table, dressed in a white table cloth, decorated with petals scattered around the cutlery and an ice bucket housing what looks to be a bottle of champagne on the far side.

There is a panoramic view of the beach from up here, the waves lapping at the shore, under an orange sky as the sun starts its descent.

It is breath taking.

Turning to him, open mouthed I am awestruck and speechless, no one has ever done something so romantic for me, I didn’t think anyone actually did this kind of thing in real life?

“Do you like it?” he asks, seemingly genuinely concerned that I might not.

“Like? I love!” I say enthusiastically. His face lights up and taking me by the hand this time he leads me to the table, pulling out my seat for me. Taking his place across the table, we sit in silence, just gazing into each other’s eyes. In the candle light I can see little gold flecks adorning his green pupils; I’m not sure which is more captivating, his eyes or the view.

He’s wearing a black suit and white cotton shirt, but the collar has been left open as he has not got a tie. His black hair hangs naturally in loose ringlets, getting caught up occasionally by the ocean breeze. He has a broad jaw line and the skin on his face looks smooth and freshly shaven, I think I could stare at him forever.

I’m woken from my daydreaming as he reaches across and retrieves the champagne “Would you like a glass?” he offers.

“Yes please” I gush back at him as he begins to pour, filling the glass to the top, expertly controlling the bubbles.

“I hope you don’t mind but I advised the chef to prepare us something of his choosing. Alfredo is an excellent cook” he informs me.

“No that sounds wonderful, thank you” Thank God for that, I don’t speak French so I was worried that ordering was going to be a disaster and I would end up with snails and frogs legs!

As I take my first sip out of the crystal champagne flute, taking extra care so as not to spill any out over my face as I do so, the creak from the fire door announces the arrival of our starter. A fine Pâté with artichoke hearts and Melba Toast. I’m not a big fan of Pâté, so I am dubious to begin with, but it’s so light and is complimented perfectly by the artichoke, before I know it I’ve polished off the lot.

As I’m licking the crumbs from my fingers I hear Carlos’s boyish giggle “So you enjoyed that?” he asks in response to the glare I give him for laughing at me.

“Well yes I did as it goes” my face cracking into a smile by the last word. Smearing the last of his own Pâté onto a corner of toast and holding it between his thumb and index finger, he reaches across the table, stopping so it’s hovering just in front of my mouth. It’s too close to remove it with my hand, so he can only be expecting me to eat it out of his fingers; Whoa this is full on! Is this what dates are like now? I’ve barely even said two words to this man and yet I’m expected to be ready to lick something out of his hand? It’s only been thirty minutes since he picked me up, can I really pull off the confidence needed for this seductive manoeuvre?

Sensing my hesitation his face falls and he begins to retract the offer, but suddenly, without thinking, I grab his wrist, lean in and take it, making sure my lips encircle the tips of his fingers, then use my tongue to free the morsel, running it provocatively through his fingers at the same time. Letting go of his wrist and leaning back in my chair I give him my sweetest smile.

The glint in his eye returns immediately, he shakes his head in mock disbelief. “Thanks” I say as my shyness returns. I can’t believe I just did that!

The moment is broken too soon as the waiter returns and clears our plates. I take the opportunity to down as much of my drink as I can, bubbles permitting, at this rate I think I’m going to need all the courage I can get.

The main course appears shortly, chicken breast, stuffed with a wild mushroom puree and a creamy Dijon mustard sauce. I purposely slow down my eating, taking my time to savour each delicious bite, and hopefully look a little more ladylike, after practically inhaling the Pâté.