by Sarah Gerdes
“It’s good. I can see the water.” He stopped on the passenger side of a red, 1967 Ford Mustang convertible. “What’s this?” she asked.
Andre put his key in the lock. “I didn’t want to take the chance you’d be wearing a skirt.”
“And I was sure you’d be picking me up on the bike!” They laughed together.
Andre eased the car down the cobblestone and as he hit the main road, the rumble of the engine reverberated throughout the car, the antithesis of quiet modern rides.
“When you drive this muscle car, do your friends think you’ve gone rogue?” Andre pressed his lips together, but she couldn’t tell if it was out of irritation or confusion. “Have you ever heard that term?”
“Yes, from a thug in a movie,” he responded. Danielle liked the deep, hearty sound of his laughter. “I like technology and speed on the freeways but for a night out like this, an American car was fitting.”
Andre slowed, allowing a metro to pass in front, then turned left, down a side street, pointing out a delicatessen and butcher she should try.
“You lucked out on your building,” Andre said, changing the subject. “It can get hot in the summer, and the winds will come up off the lake.”
“That’s what Kathryn, the owner, said.” Danielle envisioned warm breezes and evening sunsets, sitting on the terrace, her legs stretched out. It wasn’t big enough to have a chaise lounge, but she could buy a small table to go with the chairs already in place.
He glanced sideways. “Your HR person must have some special connections because I’ve been looking for a while and I never even saw it listed. That, or you have some very special skills they want to protect.”
“Yes, I have skills…” she answered evenly. “But I must clarify they are more in line with shuffling a lot of paper and trading. Nothing exotic. You, on the other hand,” she continued, “must be doing a lot of rope pulling on those boats. Check these out.” She hooked the end of her index finger underneath the seam of his short-sleeved t-shirt. The white ribbed top hugged his bicep. She’d caught a look at his legs when he shut the door, and his slacks were snug around his thighs. “I can definitely see you lifting weights with precision, the way everything else in this country is done.”
Andre gave another modest smile. “We can be viewed as being a little uptight, but that’s actually wrong. Swiss are actually a rather open, accommodating society, as long as you follow the rules that govern everything, including the color of the blinds in buildings.”
Danielle cracked up at his dry delivery. She thought of Lani and how she was smitten by Stephen’s manner. Danielle was beginning to better understand it. His face was serious but his lips gave away the humor underneath. She was still smiling as Andre turned a corner and she saw the line of people stretched the entirety of the block.
“Is this for the club?” Andre nodded, completely unconcerned. When the car stopped, Danielle took a breath full of excitement. She hadn’t been out for an evening of fun with a man her age in a long time.
The valet opened her door while Andre walked around the car and took her hand. He gave a brief head nod to the fierce-looking, oversized bouncers who retracted a black cord. They bi-passed the line, walking up a dark stairway to a thumping beat that was heard before it was seen. Once inside, she glanced up at the large, crystal chandeliers invisibly suspended from a black roof illuminated with star cut-outs. Dotting the corners were booths, practically dark, the outlines of silhouettes confirming they were full of bodies.
“Like it so far?” Andre asked. She turned just enough to make eye contact and smiled, nodding vigorously. Her unrestrained response made him grin and he squeezed her hand. She knew there were dozens, if not hundreds of attractive men in this new town of hers, but damn, when she looked at him, thoughts of any others evaporated.
“Do you see Lani or Stephen?” he asked.
Danielle joined him in the search, eventually pointing upward. “Right there,” she said. Lani was in a cage, dressed in a mid-thigh skirt over black fishnet nylons and a crop top, holding onto the bars. Lani’s evident pleasure gave Danielle another endorphin boost. In some small way, she was helping her friend find relief from the stresses of a failing restaurant and the challenges of having a family. Stephen stood on the floor nearby, engaged in an animated conversation with a two men.
“What can I get you to drink?” She turned too quickly, her cheek touching his, and she smiled an apology, although she wasn’t sorry at all. The touch had been exhilarating. “I don’t drink.”
His head tilted, as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. “At all?”
“Water, juice, or soda, but only Sprite.” The noise made it difficult to talk, and he leaned into her again, her hand touching his forearm as he did so. “It’s a long story, but it relates to not smoking either. I’ll tell you about it later.” She encouraged him to drink but he declined, instead stepping up to the bar and ordering what she did.
Andre handed her a cranberry and soda, simultaneously turning his back to the bar. She felt the heat of his arm and the protective stance he’d taken.
“Here’s to you being in Zurich.”
“And to going out to a club,” she responded, raising her glass to his.
“Technically,” he paused, ever so slightly, “it’s considered a date.” She raised an eyebrow quizzically. “Unless it’s an epic failure, in which case it won’t count and we’ll call a do-over.” They smiled in unison, the glasses clinking.
She looked over her glass at his eyes. A piece of ice slid into her mouth and she sucked on it, her body swaying to a slower grove, the downbeats every third beat, the two upbeats perfect for her shoulders and hips. It wasn’t meant to be sensual but was. Without asking, Andre lifted the glass from her hands and set it on the counter. He took her hand and led her towards the center of the dance floor. Her hands went up, chest high, moving her upper body in time with the music.
Soon the floor was so crowded they couldn’t move without touching. At first, both of them gave apologetic looks and stepped back, only to be pushed in to each other again. Eventually, Andre smiled, lifting his arms up on either side of her to protect her.
“Thank you,” she mouthed, not bothering to say the words out loud. They wouldn’t be heard anyway.
The music reverberated with continual waves of light, the reds, blues and greens touching Andre’s face and chest, and she didn’t hold back from expressing her delight at being there, with him through the way she moved her body.
Danielle glanced up at Lani, seeing that she was still in her cage, and Stephen animatedly talking with his friends. Andre tried to get their attention several times, but failed.
“I think they needed the release,” Danielle half-yelled in his ear. He nodded, his head bent slightly towards her. Andre’s lips remained flat but his eyes were alive and focused on her, excluding all else.
She rotated her body so her back was to him. Moments later, she felt his chest pressed against her, their hands bouncing in time with their heads, sporadically connecting. The slight touches sent thrilling spikes of excitement through her.
A bead of sweat made its way down her temple and she felt the moisture between her breasts and down her lower back. The song changed to a melodic trance, the tone sultry.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. Her rational self knew that had she been back home, she never, ever, would have gone dancing with a man on a first date. It was too intimate, like making love vertically.
But it’s not the real world, she thought, her eyes fluttering wide open. Somewhere between considering temporary pleasure and permanent celibacy, she felt Andre’s arms encircle her waist. His warm cheek caressed hers, the hair tickling her face. Then it happened. The edge of his lips touched hers. She involuntarily opened her mouth to take a breath and his fingers squeezed hers, slowing their movement to a sway, out of time with the music. Carefully, she rotated her face, their lips remaining connected from one corner to the center. Her lower back tingled
as his fingers made random figures against her. She opened her mouth to inhale and Andre’s tongue found its way inside. She curled her fingers on his chest, unconsciously responding to his touch, pressing herself against him, eclipsing the distance between her legs and his. Caught up in the sensation, they continued until the upbeat started again. Andre pulled back, a millimeter at a time. When his ear reached her lips, she touched his soft skin.
“Do you think Lani and Stephen have noticed we are here yet?” He responded by grazing her cheek, his hair once again tickling her.
“Stephen has moved only to get Lani another drink,” he murmured. “Do you want to go see them?”
“Not really.”
They stayed on the dance floor long enough for him to trace the lines of her hips and waist with the tip of his thumb, the motion sexual yet not intrusive. She shivered and he smiled, his eyes never leaving hers. At the start of the third song, she suggested they should go see their friends.
“We can’t. They’ve left.” Danielle had a fleeting crush of guilt. “I waved to them,” Andre continued. “They looked pretty satisfied.”
“Really?” her eyes wide.
“Stephen told me they want you to be happy. I guess they could see that you are.”
On the way home, she and Andre discussed what she thought of the people, the music and the club, and he gave a broad smile at her enthusiastic responses.
“And that’s only one club,” he said, the notion of exploring others clear. Andre asked if she was still up for taking a motorcycle tour. Danielle barely heard the question, as a thought overtook her making her laugh. “What’s funny?” he asked seriously, and she caught herself.
“I was just thinking about the differences between this culture and my own.”
“I’m up for being enlightened.”
“If we were in the U.S. and had the evening we’d just had, an American man would have invited himself up to my apartment.”
A pause followed that comment. “Would you like that?” The question, so frank and without pretense, swept away any sarcastic or evasive response.
“Yes.”
In the dark, Danielle watched a very slight curve appear on his lips, the only indication Andre was pleased. “I won’t stay long,” he told her, the comment easing her mind while slightly disappointing her. The opposing thoughts made her laugh again.
“You find me that funny?”
“I find this whole culture funny—or confusing, may be a better word.”
He pulled into the slot behind her garage, turned the engine off and leaned to her. “I find nothing confusing about how much I want you.” A burst of desire swept through her body, his directness more intoxicating than anything he’d done on the dance floor.
With that thought in her head, she led him into the elevator and pressed the button, inserting her key. Danielle felt the touch of his fingertips on her lower back, the pressure a link of energy between them.
One week, one date, and now this.
They started with gentle affection in the foyer, progressing to rough passion in the hallway and ending with an intense, climactic session in the bedroom. After he left, she stayed awake for some time, her left elbow under her pillow, contemplating the evening. He had been physically magnificent and his desire to stimulate her greatly appreciated. What it lacked was an emotional tie, an element of an actual relationship that couldn’t be fabricated or forced.
That’s a good thing, she knew, closing her eyes, comfortable with the casual intimacy. No ties, no commitment and no expectation. Exactly what she had anticipated and what she’d gotten.
CHAPTER 12
The next morning, Danielle woke at ten, ate oatmeal and toast before taking an hour-long walk on the waterfront. She made it all the way downtown, the tree-lined path providing shade from the increasing heat of the day. The waterpark wasn’t yet open but the waterside restaurants were, the lines for brunch forming early. At the park, she noticed the upright, silver bullets, realizing they were the latrines Stephen and Lani had mentioned. Unable to help herself, she entered one, confirming that the inside did indeed look like a spacecraft, complete with needle dispensers and adjustable seats straight out of a movie.
The afternoon was spent unpacking and reorganizing her apartment. Kathryn, the owner, had indicated she could move the furniture around as she pleased, which she did, adjusting the couch perpendicular to the fireplace, towards the water. If one has a view of the lake, one should make the most of it.
Sunday she went for another walk, worked until early afternoon then went sailboarding. She called her father before she went to bed, telling him about the restaurant. He thought Stars and Stripes was an excellent name and that her mother would be proud.
“There is one other thing,” Danielle said, waiting until she was sure she had her father’s attention. “I actually went out Friday night.”
“No kidding. With a man?”
“Very funny and don’t even tell me you were expecting it.”
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“Okay fine. It was dancing and it was great. Happy now?”
He chuckled. “I’m happy if you are, and that’s what matters.” Danielle agreed, saying nothing about a sleepover afterward.
The second full week passed quickly, her routine familiar and fast-paced. She attended two meetings with the physical commodities traders and another with the currency specialists. Lars was always present, sitting at the end of the table each time. He managed the sessions efficiently, making a point of keeping eye contact with each trader. She sat three seats away from him, close enough to hear him but far enough away not to come across as the over eager new hire.
Lani and Stephen had thrown themselves into the new venture. They interviewed architects and designers and by Thursday they had made a selection. Glenda gave Danielle a recommendation for an attorney, and when he provided the partnership paperwork, the three signed the contract and she wired fifty-thousand francs into an escrow account for money distribution in accordance with the contractors meeting milestones. They decided to hold off on making a decision about Andre being an investor for another week, just to see if he displayed any weirdness with Danielle.
“It’s only prudent,” Stephen intoned.
Since the dancing excursion, Andre had come into the restaurant twice, ordering take out both times. He hadn’t asked Stephen for her number or brought up Danielle’s name. She was both gratified and annoyed. By Friday, she realized his low-key approach gave her a sense of relief. They both were busy with work, they liked each other and had hooked up. It was enough.
That afternoon, when the week’s numbers were posted, Danielle had surpassed both Ulrich and Johanne. With her bag in hand, Glenda came into her office and quietly congratulated her.
“It’s nice to finally be in a pool that’s winning,” she said. Danielle immediately understood. Support staff were likely to receive bonuses based on numbers. Glenda wasn’t on either Ulrich or Johanne’s team, and therefore hadn’t been benefiting from their previous success.
Ulrich came by her office on the way out, telling her he had no hard feelings. Of course he wouldn’t. As desk leader, he got an override on anything she made. It was free money to him.
Johanne was nowhere to be found.
“You told me momentum was good, and you were right,” Lars said from the doorway. Gun-metal grey suit, indigo blue tie, onyx cufflinks. Stunning. “And only two weeks.”
She barely paused in her work and gave him a smile she thought David would approve of. “Just call me the tortoise. Slow and steady.”
“Hardly. You are neither short, thick-legged nor disfigured with a long, hard nose.” His descriptive eloquence caught Danielle completely off-guard and she let out a peal of laughter. “I’ve never heard you laugh before,” he remarked, seemingly pleased that he’d humored her.
“I’ve never had a boss tell me I didn’t have a long, hard nose before, so thanks for that.” She’d never thought she would
find him all that funny—intense and intriguing yes—funny, not so much. She adjusted her earphone, taming her smile down a notch.
“I’ll leave you to your trading. Have a good weekend.” Danielle told him to do the same and asked him to be so kind as to shut the door. She shook her head, removing his image as she focused on her numbers.
On the ride home, she was daydreaming about dancing when her phone buzzed. It was Lani, who sighed in frustration. “The universe must be sensing we’re closing, because suddenly we are busier than we’ve been in months.”
Danielle was happy to help as she had no plans, other than to take a walk on the waterfront and read more reports, the epitome of the life of a trader. When she arrived, the tables were full with Ivan and the other male waiter busy, but not enough to justify her on the floor.
“It’s delivery orders. Take out Friday,” Stephen explained.
“I didn’t know you did that,” she responded. “And I have no idea how to get around this town.”
Stephen smiled, handing her the keys to his car. “GPS is a great technology.”
He helped her load the food into his car and she easily found her way to the destination. It was in the area of Zurich where the lakefront properties were massive stone mansions with panoramic views of the water below.
From within the car she pressed the gate call button, identified herself and was admitted. She decided not to park in the circular drive in front of the main house, but to the side, in an area clearly used by guests. She removed one tray of food, thinking it was good her father had endowed her with a sense of humility and normalcy, for in no other world would a Chanel-wearing gold trader be making food deliveries.
It kept her in perspective, which was helpful, because she nearly dropped her food when the door opened.
“Andre?”
CHAPTER 13
A word didn’t exist for the feeling of unexpected delight she experienced at the sight of him. She immediately throttled back her emotions so her pleasure wasn’t completely obvious. Andre had no such inhibition. He kissed her cheek, lingering near her ear.
