Buying Thyme

by TJ Hamilton

  “Oh… sure thing.” I exit back through to the kitchen.

  This is my chance to sex myself up a bit. I quickly dash into my bedroom on the way, and rush to my lingerie draw. Wildly pulling the draw open, I rifle through the various pairs of tiny knickers to find the perfect pair for the moment. On top of the dresser sits the box containing the diamond necklace from Tench. A brief shot of electricity shoots up my spine as the vivid images of Tench above me, around me, inside me, reignite the forgotten feelings for him once again. I pause for a moment while I catch my increasingly rapid breath. Closing my eyes, I try and imagine the image to be Tom Smythe instead, wondering what our first moment together is actually going to be like. Please don’t let this be an anti climax. Please let Tom Smythe be as amazing as I imagine him to be. When I finally open my eyes again, I notice that Tom is standing in the doorway to the right of me with a wicked smirk.

  “Strange place to keep your bottle opener Miranda.”

  “Ah… I just needed to…” Shit! My bottom lip hides its self under my top teeth as I try my best to come up with why I am here right now.

  “Miranda. You seem nervous all of a sudden.” Tom steps closer and reaches out to touch the side of my right cheek, ever so gently.

  My body struggles to maintain a moderate temperature. “Please. Understand. Once again… I don’t want anything from you. I need to take this slow. I enjoy you. More than I should admit right now… but I do. So let’s just enjoy some wine and each others company for the rest of the night hey?” Tom’s voice is like velvet and tugs at my lower region.

  ‘This’ slow! What is ‘this’? He likes me more than he should? What the fuck does that mean? The rest of the night? Is he going to stay I wonder? Okay… okay… enough with the inner commentary again. My eyes shut under his touch and I exhale loudly and smile at the embarrassment of my obvious intentions, which all seem to be a misunderstanding again. Tom reaches down and holds onto my hand and leads me back into the lounge room. When we’re at the little setting in front of the fire, Tom pulls me downwards to sit on the rug.

  “Where is your bottle opener kept Miranda?” He asks very calmly.

  “In the second draw. The one under the cutlery draw.”

  I feel my earlobes throb under their exploding heat. The blush spreads to my cheeks as I realise how desperate I must look right now.

  The minutes tick by like hours as I watch Tom light the fire and tend to the empty glass of wine in front of me. I seem to be completely useless in the presence of a man at my own house. A scene that I have played out in my mind so often, but now in reality, it feels so very foreign. Not what I imagined at all. I hear that Flossy has decided to make an appearance after her escape through the kitchen window earlier. Now scratching at the front door, I get up to let my little furry friend back in.

  “I hope you like cats Tom Smythe, because this thing…” and I really emphasise the word thing to him because I don’t really know what thing meant when he said it to me earlier, “Will be well and truly over before it even begins!” With that, I leave the room briefly to the welcoming meow of my faithful little feline at the front door.

  “Tell me more about where you lived in London.” I ask almost into the wine glass as I bring it up to my mouth for another sip.

  My eyelids are starting to feel heavier as the night draws on. I lean back down onto the cushions behind me and prepare for Tom to take the lead with the conversation. I feel myself slip away into a dark calmness and float towards an unwelcomed unconsciousness. Why now? Stay awake girly! I drift into a sleep as I sink into the rug below me. Tom’s voice ensures that I remain in a state of bliss and I can no longer fight the urge to sleep.

  My body feels weightless as I’m lifted off of the ground. Unable to establish whether it’s a dream or not, I decide to just sink into the warmth that is currently wrapped around my body.

  CHAPTER 12

  I wake to what appears to be early morning and instantly recognise that I am in my own bed. There’s no sign of Tom Smythe next to me. What the hell happened last night? Why do I always seem to drink too much and pass out when I'm in Tom Smythe’s company? I look at my watch and note that the time is just going onto six a.m. I don’t have a hangover like the last time I was with Tom... thank god! I wonder where Tom is, so I get up to investigate. I’m still wearing the shorts and singlet from the night before. Hmmm... No action... that I know of? I reach down at my crouch and feel the absence of someone else having been there. Damn it! In the house, the only sign that he was even present here last night is the empty bottle of grange beside the bin. Other than that, it’s as if last night didn't even happen. The fireplace holds nothing but a small pile of feathery white ashes, and the rug and cushions that were in front of the fire have now been put away. Did Tom do this while I was asleep? I don’t remember even going to bed last night. The last thing I remember is having a lovely time with Tom in front of the fire and next minute, I’m awake in my bed and it’s morning. I just don’t understand how I get so drunk that I fall asleep so easily. My head now decides it’s going to have a delayed hang over and starts throbbing. Note to self… no more alcohol and Tom Smythe!

  After a shower and downing some painkillers, I head down to Bondi to try and find Tom. I decide that since he has been at my house, I have broken the Agency rules enough already to just go straight to his penthouse. The young, dark haired girl with severely plucked eyebrows and sharp green eyes, sizes me up when I ask for Tom Smythe at the hotel desk. Those green eyes ask all the questions that her mouth dares not utter. They give away exactly what she must be thinking about me. She scowls at me as she places down the receiver, abruptly saying,

  “There appears to be no one at home miss… shall I take a message for you?”

  “No. It’s fine, I’ll come back later.”

  I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of knowing my name. But thinking twice, I turn back and ask, “Actually… you can help me… Did you see him come in this morning? You see… he was at my house last night, and he left early to go for a run this morning while I was in the shower. So I’m just making sure he got in okay… after all, he could be laying roadside somewhere in exhaustion. I told him not run after our amazing bedroom session… if you know what I mean?” I raise my eyebrows with the last statement and watch the green eyes grimace and dull down, as the young girl tries her hardest not to let my teasing effect her at all.

  I’m still not sure why she’s acting so insolent towards me though. Although, it does seem that it’s becoming a pattern with young women falling for Tom Smythe… myself included! The girl’s vague eye’s narrow as the mouth speaks,

  “I saw him leave before with a towel over his shoulder. He usually sees a pretty blonde on Thursday’s, so he’s probably down at the pool.”

  She picks up the ringing phone in front of her and welcomes the person on the line, without paying me so much as a glance.

  What pool does she mean? The hotel pool or a public pool? There’s only one place in Bondi that everyone swims at, and that’s Sydney's famous Bondi Icebergs. The last comment about the pretty blonde makes me more annoyed than jealous. Knowing Tom, it’s probably just his personal trainer. I start to doubt my own confidence in my assumption. The more I think about Tom, the more I realise there’s a real lack of personal help in Tom’s life altogether. No personal chef, no driver, no security and no maid… well except for the serviced hotel that he lives in. But for a person of Tom’s wealth, surely there would be more of an entourage around him? I make my way towards Bondi Icebergs outdoor pool with a slight twinge of doubt about this ‘pretty blonde’, in the pit of my stomach.

  Bondi Icebergs suits the wealthy Tom Smythe as far as swimming facilities go. A historic club that clings onto the edge of the cliffs on the most southern end of Bondi Beach, sees that it’s one of the areas most recognisable landmarks. It always has a constant string of celebrities swimming laps in its ocean hugging, wave crashing, fifty-metre pool. The place is etch
ed with strong looking men and women wearing tight speedos and swimming caps and despite the winter chill in the air, it’s as popular now as it is in the summer months. Which is where it gets it’s namesake from when it first started as a winter swim club for off-season lifesavers in the 1920’s. I search around and as suspected, I spot Tom in the far lane of the pool, hanging onto the edge and looking out across the ocean as he and a pretty blonde laugh and chat together. I can’t help but feel a hint of jealousy as I watch Tom with this woman. As I approach the end of the pool, the pretty blonde looks around and spots me then looks back at Tom. For some reason it appears that she recognises me. The two of them turn around in unison and Tom smiles and waves. She looks like an athlete... must be his trainer. Who else would she be? He has no friends here, as he confessed to me only days ago.

  “Miranda! How are you? Didn’t expect you down here? You’re the last person I thought I’d get to see this morning. Not that that’s a bad thing! How did you know where to find me? Did you sleep well?” Tom launches himself out of the water and lands on his feet, squatting on the edge like a frog. Water cascades down his beautiful body as he does so,

  “I hope you don’t mind me just leaving last night. I thought when you started falling asleep on the rug that you needed to just go to bed. So I put your stuff away... ah… after I put you to bed.” Tom runs his hand through his wet hair as he mentions putting me to bed, and smiles his usual cheeky grin.

  Fuck... sex... Tom... sex... his body... mind. Stop it! What is he thinking when he does that? Why couldn’t he just be like every other male out there in the world, and have his way with me when I’m at my most vulnerable? I can’t take my eyes off of the full, semi naked view of Tom Smythe in his ass hugging speedos. My cheeks heat with embarrassment, the realisation of not actually knowing why I’ve been so eager to find him sets in. I think he’s pretty much just told me what happened last night. I got tired. Fell asleep. Got put to bed by a ridiculously handsome man, who doesn’t want to have sex with me, then he cleaned up the mess in my apartment. Straight forward enough right? So why am I here again?

  “Miranda. This is my friend and on again off again swim coach, Liz.”

  Tom reaches down and grabs the woman’s hand and assists her as she too launches herself out of the pool and leaps onto the edge. The woman is a freaken Amazonian! All bronzed bodied and towering over my already tall stature. Friend? Swim coach? No mention of this before. Why would there be? But am I not enough? What about our runs to Bronte? And sessions at the outdoor gym? Why do I even care right now? Liz wanders over to me with hand outstretched towards me. I too hold my hand out and she clasps my hand in a firm and semi-masculine grip,

  “Hi Miranda. I’ve been hearing a little about you this morning.” She says, winking and nudging Tom in a playful tease.

  What does that all mean? Tom looks down towards the ground and runs his hand through his wet hair once again as he smiles. It’s becoming obvious, running his hand through his hair is something he does when he’s nervous. So Tom was talking about me? What was he saying I wonder? Am I growing on him like he has with me in the few days of meeting each other? I follow the pair over to the bench where they have left their towels and admire the pair of them from behind, with their equally impressive physiques. I try my best not to stare in the direction of the front of Tom’s speedos when he turns back towards me. Even though I am desperate to see what size his package is sitting in the front of his tiny swimwear. I stand there in silence as I watch Tom wipe the beads of water from all over his body as he dries himself off. I wish that was me licking those tiny droplets off that glorious body with my tongue. I’m comfortable with the fact that my occupation may have made me more perverted than most females. I quickly catch myself ogling Tom in wonder, just before he looks up at me. I realise that I haven’t given a reason for coming down here as yet, so I have to think quick as the three of us are standing in silence all of a sudden.

  “So… I just wanted to apologise to you…” I manage to get out before the silence becomes uncomfortable, “For well… having the unfortunate habit of falling asleep around you. I don’t know what’s gotten into me lately.” I don’t think I sound very convincing but Tom, as always, smiles sympathetically.

  “Hopefully it’s not because I’m a bore?” He teases me.

  Oh no… I hope he doesn’t really think that? It couldn’t be further from the truth. All I want to do is see more of Tom. I don’t think I’ve ever been drawn to someone as much as he.

  “I had better be off Tom. I’ll see you here again same place…”

  “Same bat channel!” Tom finishes and the both of them laugh. Tom leans in and kisses Liz on the cheek before she leaves. Once again, the jealous side of me rears its ugly head but I try to ignore it and smile at Liz as she looks back at me.

  “It was really lovely to meet you Miranda. I hope to see you again.” With that, Liz strides over towards the female locker room.

  I turn to Tom and meet his gaze, his body still glistening in the morning sunshine, water residue still remaining all over him.

  “Breakfast?” Tom asks.

  I don’t know what to answer.

  “My shout.” He continues.

  “I guess? Tom we have been spending a little too much time together you know?” I remind myself the danger of where this relationship may be going.

  “Yes… and I like it.” I smile at his comment and the infectious banter and blush again at his cheeky wink.

  I sit on the bright green grass, mesmerized by the glistening Archibald Fountain on the northern end of the city’s Hyde Park. The sun casts mini rainbows through the fanning sprouts of water squirting out of the numerous bronze sculptures. Tourists gather around in groups, taking pictures and pointing towards the various mythological creatures of the fountain. The city’s business workers sit in little pockets of the park, shoes discarded next to them and toes combing the luscious grass, basking in a moment’s reprieve from the gruelling mundane of office life. I look at my watch. Charlie should be here any minute. I lie back against the soft grass and spread my ever-faithful Great Expectations book across my face, blocking the bright winter sun from my eyes. Today is one of Sydney’s warm winter days. If it wasn’t for the noticeable lack of leaves on the skeletal remains of the now naked deciduous trees in the park, you could mistake it for being spring. I wonder what Tom is doing today? Why does it feel like there’s always something missing when I’m away from him? I can’t help but replay seeing him and Liz together. It’s still an image that makes me feel uncomfortable. Why do I even care? I just wish I could have someone like him all to myself. If I’m so bad for him, why is he still hanging out with me during my time off from prostitution? Maybe there is a chance for us?

  “Hey hobo. Wake up!” Charlie’s rude interruption is a welcome disruption from my thoughts of Tom.

  I remove my book and look up at Charlie standing over the top of me, a stern frown fixed upon his face.

  “What? I’m just lying back on the grass? Why are you in such a bitchy mood?”

  “You don’t know who… or what’s gone to the toilet right where your head is! You look like a freaken homeless person. What on earth are you wearing? You’re not wearing that tonight are you?”

  I look down at my torn jeans and men’s t-shirt with a skull in the middle of it.

  “This is Alexander Mcqueen I’ll have you know! Plus, I’ve decided that I won’t be coming with you tonight. I can do bear parties with you, but this whole ‘wet fur’ thing… it’s not really my scene honey. Who knows what could happen to me in the water! They could turn and drown me! You know women aren’t exactly their favourite people… I’m like goldilocks without the golden locks! Bears and girls… just don’t go together.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “Sadly not… and I don’t want you to feel like you have to babysit me again. It’s no fun being your handbag. You go get yourself some hairy love!”

  “Well you had bett
er bloody walk me there then! I don’t want to be seen by myself!”

  I laugh at how fragile my bossy little friend can be and hold my hand out for him to help me up from the grass. We walk through the canopy of trees lining the pathway in the centre of the park, and make our way towards the indoor pool of Cook Phillip Park.

  “Please tell me you haven’t been spending all of your time with that Tom guy?”

  How does Charlie always know me? Do I tell him the truth, or lie to save the impending lecture?

  “I assume by your silence that you have been. A lot!”

  Damn you Charlie! I nod my head slowly and shrug my shoulders.

  “Oh don’t tell me you’re falling for him?”

  “No! No I’m not. I don’t know. I like being around him. That’s all.”

  “You’re sure about that?” Charlie shakes his head in disapproval, “Hey check this out will you.” I look through the glass window overlooking the indoor pool below.

  “Bear soup!” I laugh at the abundance of hairy big men floating about in the water on various inflatable apparatuses.

  “I’d hate to be the cleaner who cleans out the filter after tonight!” Charlie jovially adds. We both burst into fits of laughter. I’m glad I decided not to attend the party with Charlie. Not a single female- or even anything remotely feminine for that matter- can be seen amongst the big burly men.

  “You enjoy yourself tonight honey.” I lean in and kiss Charlie’s bearded face.

  “Sure you don’t want to come?” Charlie bids me once more.

  “Positive.”

  I leave Charlie to his fabulous body-hair worshiping party and decide to walk the two-kilometre trek home. The sun has disappeared over the other side of the city, as the day approaches night and the icy wind has picked up. I throw my warm coat on and snuggle into its welcoming warmth. I can’t help but marvel at the beautiful deciduous trees lining the street on my walk home. I love how they wondrously change their colour to announce the change of season approaching. Shedding their leaves viciously on the pathways, leaving nothing but stark skeletal remains. It almost feels like homage to my heart in this cold hour. Why do I have to be alone? Not having the profusion of men paying for my time and attention only drives home how lonesome I actually feel. No Tom. No men. Just me. I close my eyes, as I smell the faint smell of wood fires permeating the air at this time of the year. Reminding me what season is upon us. I pull my collar around my neck as the wind slashes at the back of my neck. Why does winter always make me feel lonely? Being away from Tom makes me feel lonely.