by Rebecca Foxx
If anything were going to happen with this Michael Clooney figure, she would make sure it wasn’t permanent. Perhaps they would date for a bit, maybe sleep together, but after that she would tell him she wasn’t ready to commit to anybody. He’d probably be angry and hurt, but it wouldn’t matter as long as her heart was protected.
She couldn’t bare another man coming into her life, causing her to fall in love, and then disappearing forever.
The very next day, she resolved to tell Michael that it wasn’t going to work out between them. As she was leaving for work, she almost knocked over a crystal vase that was resting on her doorstep. It was filled with twelve aquamarine roses, ferns, and some small green buds she didn’t recognize.
When she reached down to pick up the card, she found there was nothing inside. Upon closer inspection, she noticed two small letters in the lower right-hand corner that read M.C.
So they were form Michael after all.
Keep it together, she thought to herself. He’s just a customer; he probably doesn’t even want you for your mind. Just put them inside and forget about it.
Chapter 3
“Do you think the flowers were too much?” Michael asked his friend Wilson.
“Are you kidding me? The flowers were perfect!” Wilson exclaimed, slapping Michael on the shoulder.
Ahead of them was an enormous racetrack filled with black and brown racehorses. They were allowed to sit in a reserved area with an enormous white tent over their heads. The others attending were multimillionaires, their wives, or their mistresses. Michael had yet to see anyone he truly wanted to talk to.
It was a Saturday afternoon, and the sky was a bright shade of robin’s egg blue. Across the racetrack were the cheap seats for the locals and anyone who enjoyed bidding on the horses. Michael had his eye on a red mare with white socks.
She was a beautiful creature, and if he were lucky she would win him a lot of money. Even if she lost, he wouldn’t lose too much of his funds.
“So are you going to ask her out?” Wilson asked, sipping on a glass of brandy.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” Michael admitted. “I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.”
“And what idea would that be?”
“That I’m only into her for her body.”
“Well from the way you described her to me, she sounds smoking,” Wilson commented.
Michael punched him playfully in the shoulder, though it was more of a warning punch than anything. He didn’t know Clare very well but he didn’t want someone like Wilson swooping in and insulting her. She wasn’t like them—she wasn’t filthy rich, which was one of the many reasons she was so enchanting.
Suddenly Michael heard the loud blowing of a whistle, which meant the race was about to begin. He walked over to the white picket fence and stared into the audience across the racetrack. To his surprise, he saw Clare Daniels standing with another woman. Both were wearing sunhat and drinking what appeared to be glasses of tea.
She looked up at him and smiled. He waved her over, pointing to the open fence gate. Clare gestured to her friend so Michael raised both his hands and waved them over.
“Who is that?” Wilson asked, walking up to Michael.
“That is Clare.”
Wilson emitted a low whistle. “You weren’t kidding,” he said.
“Careful.”
“Don’t tell me you’re into her.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Maybe because she’s a local? Come on Mikey, I know you’re depressed because Clare is gone, but you can’t seriously be into this woman.”
“And what if I am?”
Wilson rolled his eyes. “It’s never going to work out.”
Michael shushed him, as the two women were fast approaching and he didn’t want them to hear Wilson’s trash talking.
“Hey,” Clare said, frowning slightly at Michael. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh you know, enjoying some honest betting on my day off. And who is this lovely lady you’re with?”
“Um, this is my sister, Kate.”
Now it was Wilson’s turn to step up. He took Kate’s hand in his and kissed it softly.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
Kate giggled and looked at Clare, who shrugged. “Sure,” she said.
Michael realized that he was standing alone with Clare and suddenly his palms began to sweat.
“So…” he began.
“Thank you,” she said.
“You liked the flowers?”
She laughed quietly, turning away from him. “Blue is my favorite color,” she admitted.
“Well, good. I’m glad you liked them.”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“Anything,” Michael responded.
“Why are you into me?”
“What do you mean?” he asked.
“I mean you’ve been complimenting me, and I know you’ve been banking only with me for the past few weeks. I was just wondering what it was about me that was so special.”
He chuckled and swirled the ice cubes around in his drink.
“I don’t know, you’ve captured my attention in a way no other woman has.”
“Is that so?”
He laughed quietly. It was nice the way Clare flirted with him. It was a mixture of malice and attraction, making the situation all the more interesting.
“Have dinner with me,” he said.
“That doesn’t sound like a question,” she responded.
“Have dinner with me?” he asked.
She bit her lower lip and looked at the racetrack. When they weren’t paying attention, the second whistle had been blown. Michael noticed that his mare was losing, though Clare had a wide grin spread across her face. She was betting on an enormous black horse with a white nose.
He was in the lead, and in just a few seconds would be the winner of the race.
“Alright,” she said, after her horse crossed the finish line in first. “I’ll have dinner with you. But I’m cooking.”
“Okay. Wait, what?”
“You heard me. The first time we eat together, I want it to be at my house. Is that okay with you?”
He grinned. “I like a woman that takes charge. Your place it is.”
She gave him the address before floating away in her large white hat. She waved to her sister, who bid farewell to Wilson before catching up to Clare.
“How did that go?” Wilson asked.
“We’re going on a date later,” Michael grinned.
“Wow, you work fast.”
“You bet I do. Shall we?”
Wilson nodded, downing the rest of his drink. Clare had told him to meet at her place around five-thirty and he needed to head home and change.
Wilson, on the other hand, had a date with another one of the local women. He was a player, always going home with a different girl every night. Michael was more traditional, preferring the process of seduction and enchantment to bedding whichever woman he deemed acceptable.
Clare felt the same way, though she’d never admit it to Michael. She wanted to proceed as cautiously as possible during their date that evening. If she screwed anything up, she might fall in love too quickly, and then her heart might be broken all over again.
Chapter 4
Clare decided to cook a chicken, brown rice, beans, and platoons for her evening with Michael. Meeting him at the horse races had been completely unexpected, but not entirely unwanted. It was enchanting to have a suitor over for the evening, even if it was just for the evening.
She spent the next few hours cleaning up her house, making sure it was to her liking. She figured that normal women would hate hosting a billionaire at their house, but Clare wasn’t like that. She wasn’t intimidated by Michael’s wealth.
If anything, she was intimidated by the possibility of romance. It was nerve-wracking to throw herself back into this sit
uation, especially because she didn’t know if Michael was married or in a relationship. All the times he’d been in the bar with her she’d never noticed a ring on his finger, but one couldn’t be too certain.
When five-thirty finally rolled around, Clare’s nerves were spiraling out of control. She paced around the kitchen, wringing her hands and biting the inside of her cheek. Finally, at quarter of six, she heard a knock on the door.
She rushed over and opened it to find both Michael, a bottle of wine, and an enormous turtle standing at his feet.
“What is that…” she asked cautiously.
“To be honest I have no idea. He’s been here since I arrived.”
Clare burst out laughing before picking up the turtle and motioning for Michael to follow her inside. He was wearing a pair of slacks and a light blue shit made of cotton. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to see how soft his shirt really was, but she restrained herself.
“So what are we eating tonight?” he asked.
“Don’t you know it’s rude to ask that of the chef?” she responded. “Sit down and give me that wine. I’ll be right back.”
“Ooh, a woman who takes charge. I like that.”
“No one ever tells you what to do?” she asked.
“I think they’re usually too scared to tell me what to do,” he responded.
She laughed, uncorking the bottle of wine with a loud pop. He probably bossed around his maids and his friends, as billionaires were wont to do, or so she assumed.
“So tell me something about yourself,” he said.
“What’s there to tell?”
“Now you’re playing hard to get?”
“I’m not playing anything,” she teased. She reached into the cabinet for two enormous green plates, piling them high with rice, beans, chicken, and platanos.
“This looks incredible,” he gushed when she put the plate down.
“You don’t eat home cooked meals?”
“Usually my cook feeds me bags of Cheetos and nips of whiskey. I’m joking. You can take a joke, right?”
She broke into a smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Oh I’m ridiculous?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow. They stopped joking around after a while, and focused on eating. Michael found the meal to be mouth-watering and incredible. He’d never eaten like this before, and he felt the heat of the food right in the pit of his stomach.
He was sure that if someone were to X-ray him right then and there, an enormous golden sun would be visible in his belly.
“Do you want to go for a walk after we’re done?” she asked, gesturing for his plate. He nodded, pushing his empty plate and utensils over to her. She put them in the sink before slipping on her flip-flops and walking out the back door. He followed her, looking down at the ground before they got to the beach. He then gasped; Michael had never seen a sunset this incredible in his entire life.
It was a brilliant mixture of purple, yellow, red, and blue bleeding together. He’d never seen such a beautiful sight before.
“You get to see this every single day?” he asked.
She laughed, tossing her long black hair back. “Yep. This is where I live. I really do love it.”
Clare continued walking but Michael had stopped. He was now staring at the water, which had turned into a liquefied rainbow purer than clear gasoline.
“Let’s go swimming,” he said, heading towards the waves and discarding his shirt.
“Hey wait—you don’t have a bathing suit—”
“So?” he asked, dropping his pants. “It’s private, right?”
“Yeah, it is, but…” she said. But Michael wasn’t listening anymore. He walked right over to where the water met the sand and dove in headfirst.
Clare hesitated for a few seconds before shedding her own clothes and jumping in after him. The water felt good on her naked body and she loved the way the waves seemed to massage her erect nipples.
When she wasn’t paying attention, Michael waded towards her. He looked deep into her dark brown eyes before tugging her towards him and kissing her full on the mouth. She felt her breath catching in her throat as his hands slid down her neck and back, tracing the outline of her curving sides and butt. He tugged her closer, and whispered in her ear;
“Is this okay?”
“Yeah,” she whispered.
He took that as his green light, slipping a finger inside of her. She moaned and leaned into him and he began to work his fingers in and out quickly. Mixed in with the feeling of the waves lapping at their bodies, Clare felt like she was going to orgasm any minute. When she thought she couldn’t take it anymore, Michael turned her around and placed his erect member deep inside her.
She felt warm, and wet, either from the water or her own libido. They had sex in the water, slowly at first, as Michaels’ hands were slippery from the ocean. She made small moaning noises that grew louder when he touched her large breasts. Her nipples were like two nobs on a radio that needed to be treated with care and expertise. When touched the right way, she sang just like a dove.
Michael finished quickly, blaming it on how turned on he was.
“Oh god,” he said, feeling himself blush. “I’ll last longer next time, I swear.”
She laughed, leaning her head into the crook of his neck.
“You were perfect to me. Should we head inside now?”
“Yeah, let’s. I don’t want to get bitten by a tropical fish.”
She laughed and they began their slow demise towards the house.
Chapter 5
“Should I go?” he asked when they got back inside.
“No, stay,” she said quietly, tugging on his fingers. He was still warm from the water and warm air. Though Clare knew it might not be the best idea to have Michael sleep over, she knew in her heart that she wanted him to. It was lonely sleeping in the bed all by herself.
On second thought, perhaps she should have just gotten a pet—that would have quelled the loneliness. However, she did have that strange turtle hanging out in her kitchen. Perhaps it was a good luck charm.
Back in the house, a strange tension began to form between them. Clare realized that she would be asking Michael to sleep in her bed with her, though that shouldn’t have been too unexpected, as they’d just slept together in the warm waters of the ocean.
“Do you need anything?” she asked.
“No I’m pretty low maintenance, though I could use a glass of water.”
She filled one for him before leading him down the hall and into her bedroom.
The first thing Michael noticed was that everything smelled like vanilla and honey. He noticed her walls were painted a light green that matched her bed sheets and curtains. The way the moon filtered through the curtains made everything look like a light green jungle, or the outer skin of an apple.
He watched Clare walk around the room and wondered what kinds of things she collected when she was younger.
The nightstand was filled with knick-knacks, including a small felt cat with enormous green eyes. When Michael walked pas the cat, he noticed its eyes were made out of fake emeralds. It was beautiful, maybe a hand-me-down rom a family member he’d never meet.
Clare seemed like a pretty private person, even though she’d let already let him in quite a bit. Now he was on her territory, and the rules were different. He felt like every step he took was loud like a bomb; if he made the wrong move, the entire house could go up in smoke.
Clare said that she liked to sleep in as little clothing as possible. She said it helped her to beat the heat. Around the beach area, it was pretty swampy and muggy. She told Michael that on particularly bad nights, her body would sweat its shadow onto the bed sheets and she’d have to do the laundry quite frequently.
Michael felt bad thinking about his air-conditioned mansion, so he said nothing. Almost every area of the house was nice and cool even on the muggiest of days.
That night, the sky finally opened up. After days of sweltering heat and n
o release, it had finally begun to rain. In the distance they heard thunder and lightning echoing. Like symbols, like a dark symphony, the air popped and swayed. Clare put on a tank top and underwear before climbing into bed. Michael hesitated a few seconds before taking off his pants and shirt to join her.
