New Beginnings

by Elle M Thomas

  “Of course,” he replied, passing her a piece of headed paper, an envelope and a pen.

  She thought for a few seconds before putting pen to paper.

  To my husband, Gray,

  Sorry to run, but probably for the best, to avoid any awkwardness or embarrassment.

  Thank you for a most memorable night, you really are very good at what you do and worth every penny I'm sure, but as I told you I am not that kind of girl. I have never paid for sex and until last night didn't think normal people did/could. You really do know what women want, this woman anyway. I appear to have lost my underwear in your room.

  From your wife, Eve x

  Tucking the note into the envelope she returned it to the porter and fought every instinct to make some kind of excuse for leaving her 'husband' in bed and communicating that leaving via a note at reception.

  Still smiling she simply said, “Thank you,” and left The Stanford.

  Chapter 3

  The sound of the doorbell made Eve jump, despite expecting her visitor. She opened the door and found her oldest friend, Sally, grinning at her.

  “What have you done?” asked the shorter, broader blonde woman.

  “Hello, Eve, how lovely you look, a cup of tea? Oh, yes please, I'd love one, thank you!” said Eve sarcastically, making her friend laugh.

  “Sod that, Eve. You said you'd met someone last night and made a rash decision, so spill,” said Sally, making her way into the kitchen followed by Eve who was already making tea for them both.

  They sat at the breakfast bar while Eve retold the previous night's events to a shocked Sally.

  “Bloody hell, Eve! I leave you alone for one night and you do this, with a gigolo!” she shrieked.

  “It's your fault, you convinced me to go to this singles thing, like you convinced me to join the bloody dating site and I end up sneaking out of a very expensive hotel room in the early hours to avoid facing the gigolo that threw me a freebie,” retorted Eve, laughing. “God, he was very, very good though, Sal.” She sighed.

  “Did you leave him your number?” asked Sally suddenly.

  “No. I couldn't afford him on a regular basis. Now, enough of Gray, let's talk work,” said Eve changing topic.

  “If we must. Tomorrow morning we need to meet with the head honchos for the newly acquired Marshall hotel group and convince them that we can re-brand and resell their facilities to Joe Public.”

  Eve sighed again. “That won’t be easy after all the horror stories everyone still remembers about Marshall’s budget hotels. Do you remember that one we stayed in that time?” asked Eve.

  “Do I ever! It was horrendous, certainly not The Stanford,” Sally said with raised eyebrows making Eve laugh.

  “Is it an informal meet or are they expecting boards and slogans?” Eve suddenly became worried as she knew Sally and her one-woman advertising company needed the business and this would be a big contract for her. “I don't mind if you want to bring someone more experienced in,” offered Eve, knowing that although she had limited experience, Sally was actually helping poor Eve as much as Eve was helping Sally.

  “Your inexperience can be a real eye opener, Eve. You see things like a consumer as much as I do as an advertising exec, so I don't want someone else.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate everything you've done for me since I moved here, and since Max.”

  “Hey, Eve, it's fine. You're my best friend and I needed help as much as you did. Now, I will pick you up at nine to meet with them at ten, okay? In the meantime, you could take a look at competitors and see what we're up against.” Sally leapt to her feet, “And stay in tonight, I need you fresh as a daisy in the morning.” She laughed as she drained her teacup and headed for Eve's door.

  Closing the door behind Sally, Eve questioned, yet again, whether she should have left her number for Gray. Chiding herself for being so needy and for desiring him again she decided to go back to bed for a couple of hours before doing some work.

  Gray woke and whilst still in the hazy fog of that place between sleep and total consciousness, he remembered last night, Eve. He couldn't have imagined in his wildest dreams just how hot the sex could be between them, how truly beautiful she was, how sensual and responsive she’d be to him, to his touch, his words, everything. God, he was hard again just thinking about it.

  He braced himself to turn over and see her; was she awake yet? Maybe she was watching him already, or maybe he could wake her by kissing her, stroking her, touching her, holding her. Grinning, he imagined her waking as he caressed her skin, stroked her into a frenzy.

  He groaned at the thought of that, at the memory of how she sounded and looked when she came, how she felt around his fingers and his dick when she came, shuddering, shaking, moaning and calling out his name. He had to have her, needed her, now.

  Rolling over, he was determined to take her here in the bed and then again in the shower before he needed to leave. Once just wasn't enough with a girl like Eve. He'd meant what he'd told her last night about what a misfit she'd been in the bar, a singles night, a singles night for an online dating site is what the duty manager had told him with equal measures of disapproval and amusement, but as he'd told Gray, money's money and business is business.

  He still felt angry with the man he'd found getting heavy with her in the bar but confused by her presence still. After he'd had her again he needed to find out what the hell she was doing on a dating site and put a stop to it, not that he understood why his compulsion to make her do the right thing was so strong. She was just a woman, and yet he knew that she was anything but just anything. He closed his eyes to preserve the moment when he saw her again, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him as his eyes opened; the bed was empty.

  “Eve,” he called, thinking she must be in the bathroom. “Evie,” he called louder with more than a hint of concern in his voice.

  Leaping out of bed he charged into the bathroom with a sense of dread in the pit of his stomach that told him his bathroom was likely to be as abandoned as his bed.

  “Fuck!” he cried as he viewed the emptiness surrounding him, the same emptiness that was invading his body, mind and soul.

  Flicking on the lights he saw that she really had gone, her bag, dress, shoes, those 'come fuck me shoes' were all gone. He remembered just how sexy she'd looked bent over the bottom of the bed in just those shoes as he fucked her hard, as he'd threatened and as she'd requested. His dick throbbed at the memory of it, but that's all it was now, a memory.

  He jumped in the shower and to calm his ardour he switched it to cool before washing and dressing in a fresh suit, a dark blue one, with a pale blue shirt and matching dark blue tie. As he sat on the edge of the bed to tie the laces in his shoes he leaned forward and noticed something under the bed. Retrieving the item, he smiled and sighed at the same time as he held, then smelt Eve's black lace thong. Tucking it into his pocket he stood and viewed his reflection,

  “At least I have an excuse to find you now, Evie, just no clue where to start,” he mused, thinking all he had was a name and her pants, but it was better than nothing.

  Suddenly, happier and focused, he allowed himself a small smile as he grabbed his overnight bag, yesterday's suit and his briefcase before heading down to reception.

  Pausing at the lift he remembered travelling up in it yesterday with Eve wrapped around him and decided the stairs were a better option for him this morning as the memory of last night was a bitter sweet one and would remain so until he found her.

  He handed his key in at reception where the same receptionist from the previous evening was on duty. She smiled at him warmly, no, suggestively. Normally, he would probably have encouraged her attention and flirted a little, maybe even asked for her number, called her over the next couple of weeks. Maybe even dinner before giving her one night, like everyone else got, but he had no interest in calling her or bedding her, he had one interest and one interest only, Eve Pardoe, who was the exception
to his one-night rule.

  “There appears to be a message for you, Mr Sharp,” she said, calling him back to the desk.

  His chest tightened with anticipation as he accepted the envelope and hoped against all hopes that Eve had left because she had to, not because she wanted to, and that she had left him a number, an address, a date, anything.

  “The night porter said your wife left it,” the receptionist added.

  “Thank you, Emma” replied Gray without even looking up at her as he nervously fingered the crisp white envelope but remembering her name from when he'd checked in yesterday.

  He hurried to the car park and threw his things onto the passenger seat before resting against the bonnet, preparing to open the letter that he now knew was from his wife, from Eve. Unfolding the letter, he breathed deeply, hoping he would be able to smell her on it and he thought he could, briefly, fleetingly or maybe that was just his imagination. He looked down at the note in his hand and studied each line.

  To my husband, Gray,

  God why had she used the husband thing? She obviously hadn't woken up hating herself, or worse, him, if she was still playing the married game and yet she’d run.

  Sorry to run, but probably for the best, to avoid any awkwardness or embarrassment.

  Sorry, was she really sorry or just polite? It wasn't for the best for him and he hadn't had any intention of feeling awkward or embarrassed. The only things he'd felt this morning was happy, horny, sad and then back to horny with a good dose of determination to find Eve.

  Thank you for a most memorable night, you really are very good at what you do and worth every penny I'm sure, but as I told you I am not that kind of girl.

  Memorable, and then some. She had obviously enjoyed it as much as he had if she'd considered his boast of being very good to be in relation to his sexual prowess because he'd actually meant professionally. Worth every penny? What the hell did that mean? He knew she wasn't that kind of girl, he'd told her as much when he'd briefly referred to her presence in the bar.

  I have never paid for sex and until last night didn't think normal people did/could.

  Paid for sex? What the fuck was she talking about? Why had last night made her realise that normal people did/could pay for sex? Shit! Good at what he did, expensive, worth every penny, paying for sex. She thought he was a male prostitute or a gigolo. He stifled a laugh as he fully understood her misunderstanding but then he realised that was why she'd bolted, not because of him, what they’d shared, but because of the line of business she believed he was in. Shit!

  You really do know what women want, this woman anyway.

  Bollocks! She'd misunderstood the comment about knowing what women want but she was acknowledging that he'd got her, understood her, sated her. Could she be referring to the spanks he'd delivered to her sexy fucking arse. He hadn't planned that at all, but he'd just needed to be closer to her, to touch her more intimately. God, if he could have, he would have crawled inside her, worn her like a second skin. She fitted him like a made to measure glove. How the hell had she got to him like she had, got into his head, under his skin? He had to find her, no excuses.

  I appear to have lost my underwear in your room.

  He laughed loudly now. She certainly had lost her underwear. He patted the pocket of his jacket that housed the lost item.

  From your wife, Eve x

  She was playing the marriage game to the end, your wife. God, he wanted her as his again, he would have her as his again and he would be claiming that kiss at the end of her note and then some.

  By the end of the day Gray had drawn a hundred blanks in his pursuit of Eve Pardoe and with each result his mood grew darker and his temper fouler. Staring at the screen in front of him he wondered what to do next; he should have asked her where she lived, worked, socialised or even checked which dating site she'd been with, anything that could have located her. Why hadn't he woken when she'd left? He was normally a light sleeper and hated it, yet last night, the one time when it would have been advantageous, it had abandoned him, much as Eve had. Slamming his laptop shut he decided to go home and brood in comfort with a good quality scotch before starting again tomorrow.

  He was driving past The Stanford, heading towards the dual carriageway that would take him out of town towards home when he suddenly remembered his conversation with the duty manager last night; he knew about the dating site's meet and greet so maybe he knew which site they were with and she had to be on there, Eve Pardoe. He turned the car round abruptly earning himself hoots on horns and several questions about his parentage and whether he masturbated, but he didn't care. Why hadn't he thought of that before, the dating site? He could have spent the day searching for her on there before contacting her. He could be on his way to see her right now if he had done this earlier. He could have spent the afternoon with her, could be with her now, kissing her, touching her, holding her, fucking her.

  He really was losing the plot over Eve like he never had over a woman before. Maybe it was the fact that she had left him without a word. If they'd woke up together and he had followed his own plan to have her again in his bed and then the shower he would have been okay at letting her go, possibly exchanging numbers to enable a return visit, but she hadn't. She'd made the decisions and hadn't even informed him of them, that's why he was so wound up, had to be, didn’t it?

  Striding across the foyer of The Stanford, Gray spotted the same duty manager as the previous night and gestured towards him.

  “Mr Sharp, I hadn't realised you were a guest here tonight.” The manager smiled.

  “No, I'm not. It was actually you I wanted to speak to, Mark, to pick your brains to be precise,” explained Gray.

  “Oh, fire away then.”

  “That singles night thing in the bar, you did say it was from a dating website, didn't you?”

  “That's right. Was there a problem with them? I noticed you left the bar with a lady, your wife I believe,” said Mark uncomfortably, but Gray refused to acknowledge his discomfort, didn’t care about it or the reason for it.

  “Yes. I was meeting her here and some guy in there tried picking her up, Eve. It didn't sit well with me and having stewed on it I think I should contact the dating site to tell them.” His ability to churn out convincing bullshit really was at an all-time high today.

  “Ah, I see. I think you’re wise to inform them and very restrained in not reacting more violently to finding your wife in the hands of another man.” The other man nodded which only irritated Gray further.

  “My wife was not in the hands of another man, but another man had his hands on my wife, similar I know, but different, very different.” Gray had no clue why it mattered so much that nobody thought badly of Eve.

  “Sorry, no offence meant, Mr Sharp. Let me find the details for the group,” he said, scurrying back towards reception.

  Waiting for Mark to return, Gray questioned why he had continued with the façade of Eve being his wife, wondered why it rolled off his tongue so easily; my wife, he’d never wanted a wife, not really, not until Eve, leaving him even more surprised that the idea of her being his appealed more than he cared to admit.

  “Mr Sharp,” called Mark as he returned, smiling. “The site is called Single No More, and they have made a regular booking for every other Monday night, so if you needed to speak to the gentleman in question...”

  “Thank you, Mark. I really do appreciate this, in fact, can you book me the same room as last night for their next meeting. I think I may reintroduce myself to this man,” he said, knowing that he had no interest in the buffoon from the previous night, his only interest was Eve and maybe, just maybe, she would make a return visit.

  Gray got home and poured a conservative measure of single malt before changing from his formal wear to comfy, grey sweats and a black, cotton sleeveless t-shirt. Grabbing his glass, he hit the play button on a remote and music filled the space around him. He grabbed his laptop and fired it up in his pursuit of Eve Pardoe on Single
No More.

  “Stupid bloody name for a site,” he muttered as their home page appeared with sickly, smiley couples holding hands on beaches or gazing into each other's eyes adoringly.

  This was not the way for people like Eve to find a suitable partner he decided and then wondered if the model like images on the site were real members, real singles. Of course they weren't, or some of the people in the bar, or at least people that looked like them would be there, not the perfect couples on display. He told himself off for overthinking it all. Eve was not going to find a partner on this site. He was going to find her and put an end to it, it was ridiculous. He tried to search for her but was unable to search by name and once he had browsed a few profiles a pop up advised him that his free browsing was over, and he would need to register to search further.

  “Shit! Eve, you are making this fucking impossible, baby,” he told her, despite her not being there.

  He put the laptop down and found his credit card to pay for his subscription,

  “Forty bloody quid for a month,” he muttered as he entered his details. “Where two become one,” he sneered, reading the advertising logo. “For a price.”

  He was vague in his profile and although prompted several times, he declined to upload a photo, hoping that his barely started profile with no photo would discourage would be single females from messaging him. Once complete he stared at the screen and shuddered at the depths he'd sunk to in order to find a woman, but not any woman, Eve.

  “You are losing the plot, Grayson,” he told himself as he began to search for females that fitted his 'Eve’ criteria.

  Naïvely he had expected her to leap out from the screen, but apparently there were over 17,000 women who could be Eve.

  “Bollocks!” he cried as he poured more whiskey. “There is only one Eve Pardoe never mind seventeen bloody thousand,” he told the screen with irritation.