Untitled 1

Untitled 1

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Other

Summary

I don't know how to summarise this

Summary

I don't know how to summarise this

Chapter1 (v.1) - Untitled 1

Author Chapter Note

I don't know how to summarise this

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 16, 2013

Reads: 700

Comments: 8

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: August 16, 2013

A A A

A A A

The scent of sex hung in the air- ever since we’d met two hours ago we hadn’t left the bed.  My eyes were heavy, I desperately needed sleep.  The hiss of the shower intruded my dreams. 

I swung my legs over the side of the bed, a bottle of water to hand.  I drank, thirstily.  Stretching, arms raised.  I stood, my legs unsteady, and took the short step to the window.  The thick curtains blocked the view of the city below.  I snuck my head between them, opening a window.  The cool air refreshed me, though I took care not to pull the curtains wide- the light could attract attention, and a naked girl on the eighth floor might draw the wrong kind of crowd.

I breathed in a lungful of fresh air, then closed the curtains behind me, and pulled on his shirt.  The cool cotton hugged me, and I fastened several buttons in an act of chasteness- superfluous after our time together.  I could smell him on it- he didn’t wear aftershave, just his natural odour permeated my senses.  I wrapped it tightly around me, clambering back onto the bed.

The shower turned off, I heard the sounds of him towelling himself dry- an unconscious humming mingling with the rub of the fabric.  I smiled-  it was a familiar sound- yet something nagged at my heart.  He’d seemed distant tonight, wrapped up in something that I couldn’t penetrate.  His love-making had been tender, responsive, fierce… something about the way he’d looked at me had been different.  Call it a woman’s intuition, but his mind had been elsewhere, distant.

The bathroom door opened, he stepped through, a towel around his waist.  His skin shone from the hot water.  It looked as if he’d tried to scrub my body from his.  He smiled, but it wasn’t the smile of before. 

He rubbed a towel over his head, the greying hair tousled, and he ran his hand over it, smoothing it down.  He sat on the end of the bed, facing away from me.  We sat in silence, the only sound audible above the distant traffic noise was the tick of his expensive Omega watch.

Not used to being the one to be dumped, I spoke up.

“Well, this has been fun, but maybe we’d better call it …”

“Claire”, his voice trembled slightly, “I haven’t been entirely honest with you…”

The words petered out, but there was no need for more words.

“You’re married”.  It was a statement.  I’d guessed as much- the meetings, never at his house, the timing of our liaisons, the faint mark of a wedding ring.  I’m not a prude, I’ve been with married men before, but they’d always been upfront about things.  I thought with James it would be different.

“It’s not as simple as that…”

“Of course it is.  You made vows with someone.  You promised to love, honour and obey”, I’d already unbuttoned his shirt, throwing it on the floor,my eyes watering. I started to get dressed, turning away from him, my final act of modesty. “You wake up with her every day.  You’ve had your fun. Thanks for the ride, it was sweet…”.

I tried hard not to slam the door behind me.  I wanted so much to keep my dignity.  The tears began to flow as the doors to the elevator opened.

 

 

I deleted his number from my phone, and his email address from my contacts.  Every unknown message, call or email was deleted.  I wanted to distance myself from him, to rid myself of the memory of him.  I worked overtime, my boss incredulous at the effort I put in. I was a changed woman, or so I thought.  I tried to re-establish friendships with female work colleagues, but maybe the damage was done. I had been distant and aloof, somehow too good for them.I felt like damaged goods. 

One day became two, one week became a month.  My wounds were still raw, yet somehow I began to mend.  Perhaps I even began to smile again.

I left the office late one evening, about six weeks later. As I walked out of the office block I noticed a large car, a four wheel drive, parked opposite.  There was a blonde woman at the wheel.  She seemed to be looking directly at me.  I hesitated, should I go back inside?  Security would come if I called.  I took a deep breath, was I paranoid?  I turned left and began to walk away from the car. 

I heard it make a three-point turn, the diesel engine throbbing as it sidled along.  It drew level with me, keeping my face forward I continued walking.  I heard the whine of an electric motor, the nearside window opening.

“It is Claire, isn’t it?  Would you stop?  I need to speak with you.”

Half turning, still walking, I looked at the woman in the car.  Older than me, perhaps the same colouring, her eyes shifting from my face to the road, keeping the car a safe distance from the kerb.  I turned my head, my face reddening, continued walking.

“Please, can we just talk?”.

I ignored her.

The car sped up, coming to a stop about a hundred yards ahead. I saw the driver’s door open.

To the left of me were steps leading down to the street below.  I turned, heading down.  I got to the bottom, and, not hearing footsteps following me, breathed a sigh of relief.  From above, the woman spoke my name.  I looked up, preparing to take flight, thankful of my flat shoes.

The woman appeared, looking down at me.

“It seems you have me at a disadvantage”.

The aluminium frame of her wheelchair rolled to a stop at the top of the steps. 


© Copyright 2017 Collette Parrish. All rights reserved.

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