Tiger's Obsession (2 page)

Why would he want to take me to his home?

He did not even ask me if I have a home or family.

I look aside at my left shoulder when I feel his hand touching it again.
“Take it easy! I will not do you any harm."

I slowly lift my head up and try to look at his face, but he's already looking ahead as he keeps his vision at his driver.

But I feel my left shoulder becoming lighter when he removes his hand from me. With that, I look at the dark glass of the car window, locked at my left; nevertheless I am able to see dark shadows across it.

The car seems to be over a hundred miles per hour.

"What was a girl like you doing sitting on the edge of the road at this time of night?" He looks at his wristwatch, it's after midnight.

I look at my left again and I face his face cordially friendly, and I see that there is a concern on his tense face.
  But the green color in his eyes shocks with the honey tonality in my eyes and we both automatically glance in other direction, i.e. at dark glass beside us.

Silence
answers his question and shuts him up again.

The driver drives the car, and his head lifts up every five minutes, trying to look at my semblance through the rear-view mirror.

The man at my side, in black overcoat, supports his left elbow against the closed glass of his window and his hand touch his lips, however his neck remains solid, as he gazes forward firmly.

"What's your name?" He asks me, and glances quickly at his right, trying to glance at my face.

"Emily."

My voice goes out very low and he wrinkles his forehead trying to hear me better.

“Hello, Emily." Our eyes meet each other again. "I'm Larsson TIGER."

Tiger
surname sounds so intense and influential.

"Thanks, Mr. TIGER." I thank him.

He smiles slightly. "Please, just call me Larsson."

I shrug my shoulders and redden before his appeal. I'm afraid that I may have offended him by calling him
'sir'.

***

Finally the dark opal parks in front of a mansion. The driver in a dark uniform
gets out of the car and opens the car backdoor for his boss and then he runs and opens the backdoor for me. We get off the car and stare at the big mansion.

It is a huge two-story
house; its walls are painted with white and covered with climbing plants on its walls. In front of the house there is a small white stairs in round shape. Huge sculptures of tigers and white flowerpots that adorn the sides of the stairs and the house.

There is a huge garden, with several coconut palm trees.

My gaze is held by a lake with dark green waters.

I never saw a mansion before, but this mansion is extremely
beautiful.

"Come on!" He says, raising his arm for me to walk in front.

The driver gets into the car and parks it at the garage.

Larsson and I crossed the front of the house. He opens the huge wooden door in front of us and I can see part of the house
interior.

We walked to one living room. There is a glass wall, which we can see the outside of the house, a fabulous garden, a swimming pool with blue water.

In the middle of the wall has a fireplace.

Farther on, there are two sofas in ivory hue, one facing the other, between the two couches, there is a huge carpet imitating tiger leather.

On the walls there are dozens of frame with oil paintings, all them is painted with Tigers.

It seems that Larsson must be obsessed with tigers.

A gray-haired lady in dark clothes appears in front of us, she keeps her hands behind her buttock all the time.

"Sir Larsson." She says formally.

"Olinda, Provide a bath for this young man." He looks at me from the bottom up and he realizes how much I'm in need of a bath and clean clothes. After all, I'm barefoot and still in my cotton nightgown, printed with small flowers.

 
"Haha, and provide clean clothes too!" He adds.

"For her?" The gray-haired lady asks him with her wide eyes.
"Sir. Larsson, we do not have women's clothing in this house."

Larsson is practical. "Do you become angry for wearing a bathing gown?"

I shake my head, informing him that 'no' I don't.

"Great!" He murmurs.

***

Mrs. Olinda leads me to the bathroom. She opens the bathroom door and leaves me in it, and then she closes the white door again.

I walk up to a round bathtub, there are some small lamps lit on it, and I see rose petals on the transparent water.

The walls are adorn
ed with caramel glazed tile. By the side of the bathtub I see a white bathing gown hanging on a hook.

My fingers lightly touch the water, and I feel that it is suavely warm.
That gives me courage for me to start getting rid of my nightgown and also my cotton panties.

I walk into the bath and sit in it. The water comes up to the height of my shoulders.

Finally I start to rub me while I remember the turbulent night that I'm having.

First I am delivered to a man I never saw in my life, a way to settle a debt from my uncle.

In a short time, I am helped by another man on the roadside, who seems to be an angel all in black.

Now
I'm in his residence, enjoying a bath in a luxurious bathtub. I had never seen a bathtub before in my life, except for photos.

I stop rubbing my own skin when something crosses my mind.

Does all the kindness that Larsson TIGER is doing for me have a price?

Is not he helping me to demand something from me?

I shudder at my thoughts when I realize that he seems to live alone in this mansion. After all, his maid-servant said there is no women's clothing in this house.

I
f does he force me to sleep with him?

I shudder at my thoughts for a second time, and this time the fear is constant.

I can barely take my bath relaxed, thinking about these things. Then I rise from the bathtub and pull a white towel aside, wrap it around my body and step out of the bathtub and my wet feet mark the floor.

Minutes after, I walk half lost through the house and detain myself again in the living room with Tiger carpet.

I see Larsson sat on one of the ivory sofas; he is listening to a soft melody that comes from a stereo corner of the living room, as he sustains a crystal glass with red wine in his hand. His thoughts seem far away, as he stares at the floor.

But the sound of my light footsteps attracts his gaze to me. So I try to balance my body on my feet while I'm in a fluffy white bathing gown.

My eyes reach the ivory floor, as soon as I realize that I'm with my flushed cheeks.

My hair is still humid, loose and tousled. But that does not bother me.

What bothers me is that I'm in the living room of a semi-stranger. I am in no panties in front of a man who is highly intelligent and smart to realize that there is a woman snuggled up in a bathing gown and nothing else, I say 'and nothing else'.

I think,
what a lack it does a panties!

Larsson raises his crystal glass with wine in my direction. "Accompany me?"

I blush at his proposal. In fact I do not know what their intentions are, after all he is offering alcoholic beverages to a woman in inappropriate attire, I would say almost without clothes.

"
Oh, No, thank you." I thank you as I am shaking my head. “In fact, I do not drink alcoholic beverages."

He raises his eyebrows at me, lowers his crystal glass with wine and makes a disappointment face, however, he does not insist that I drink with him and that's a good sign.

I walk clumsily and sit on a couch facing him.  I extend my arms between my legs, as if I'm protecting my intimate part from some foreign gaze or the own gaze of the mansion host.

I bend my face to my left side and try to explain him. "I'm sleepy."

His green eyes are fixed on my face.

"I do not see this." He affirms. "Your eyes are very expressive."

I look down at the tiger carpet on the floor and try not to collaborate with his exact affirmative.

"Sorry." He tries to be cordial.

I look up at the white ceiling of the living room, and also at objects of great value around us. "You have a very lovely home!"

He agrees with me, giving me a discreet smile and probably I am not the first person who admires
his mansion or the last.

"What do you make
money?" I ask, looking at him.

He slope his back against the couch and puts his glass of wine foot in his
own right thigh.

"I work in the business of fun." he responds, staring at me.

I shrug my shoulders and wrinkle my forehead at him, trying silently to prophecy what kind of fun.

“Are
you the owner of an
amusement park?
"

He smiles at me as if I have just told a joke with little grace and shakes his head negatively at
me.

"No, no." His gaze reaches
an oil painting on the clear wall behind me. "I own nightclubs."

"Oh! Do you say
nightclubs?"
I question fascinated.

"Oh, that's just it." He raises his crystal glass to his lips and drinks the rest of his wine.
"Do you know how to dance?"

He looks back at me.

"I do know very little, difficultly I attend nightclubs."

He raises his eyebrows, looks surprised at my
confession. "What do you do to have fun?"

I shrug my shoulders and squeeze my lips, trying not to look as antiquated. "I read books, watch good films,
and listen to music ..."

"That's not fun." He says frankly. "Not in my conception."

I come back to turn red, as I think that his fun methods include women.

He puts his glass of wine aside, on the living room floor. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

I scratch my nape before answering him. "No I don't."

"I imagined." He smiles at me, trying to break up the tense atmosphere in my countenance.
“Dating
is one fun."

"Do you see
'dating'
as a diversion?" I question disappointed.

"Did I say something wrong?" He seems suavely ironic.

"No, I just think that
'dating'
is an
engagement
and not a
'diversion'."

He shakes his head and laughs at the floor. Then he stares at me again and he gets completely serious. "It can be both,
' engagement'
and
'diversion',
do not you agree with me?"

I prefer not to answer him and he takes advantage of my silence. "Now I can see that you are a very romantic person."

I found a defect in his tone when he said
'very romantic’.
This seems to be a grave defect for him.

I swallow my spittle and stare at him seriously. "I am."

He beats superficially his hands on his own thighs. "It must be the why you are still alone." he smiles at me. “You must be waiting for
some Prince Charming."

"I did not like the joke."

"Sorry, I did not mean to offend you. I just said this in jest."

"It looks like you're mocking me as if I am a girl who still believes in
Santa Claus.
"

He puts his forefinger between his lips and gazes at my white bathing gown. "Where is your family?"

Larsson quickly changes the subject and he comes back to face me seriously.

I hold my own fingers and look down at my lap while I answer him. "I have no family, my parents are deceased and my uncle gave me to a moneylender in payment of his debt."

Larsson opens his eyes wide at me. "Is that really true? Ware you
current money
through a debt?"

I raise my head and Larsson can see the tears pointing in my honey color eyes. "Not even I can believe it."

"That seems movie stories!" He comments almost laughing. "Preferably one movie of drama."

He rises from the sofa. "But do not worry! You are now at my responsibility."

My eyes shine with hope; I shake my head as if I'm waking up from a dream.

"Well,
that's better you go to rest, before your sleep escape through this window." he points toward an open window.

I smile at him like a child who just ends up wining a candy or a special toy.

"Thank you." I thank him, at the moment I get up too.

"Olinda!" Larsson exclaims and his maid comes before us.

"Yes, Sir Larsson."

"Take Emily to a bedroom, she wants to rest now."

The maid looks at me. "Follow me Emily."

Olinda walks in front and I'm behind her, but before I look back at the living room and see Larsson with his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. He stands watching us going up the stairs in the living room.