Stalked

by Chris Smith

  ‘You’re too choosy, you know,’ advised Sarah. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that, but sometimes you’ve got to take a chance.’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said. ‘I’m getting so tired of warding off …’ Suddenly, Libby could feel herself being watched from across the courtyard. A tall guy in his late twenties had set a laser-beam stare on her, but it was his mate who caught Libby’s eye. She was now totally distracted. She certainly wasn’t listening to anything Sarah was saying. She was looking elsewhere, or more to the point, staring elsewhere.

  ‘Libby?’ Sarah said.

  Libby was on a different frequency, almost in a trance. About five metres away to her right, in the corner of the courtyard, Phillip Hopkins was listening to what his friend was saying, hardly uttering a word. He was instantly classified as gorgeous by Libby—extremely handsome without being too slick. He wore jeans, boots and white body T-shirt, under a very understated tailored sports jacket. He was well-built, with broad shoulders and a bulky chest. His hair attracted Libby too; deep-brown loose curls, almost black, thick and combed back at the front. It was shiny damp, like he’d just come out of the shower; he looked fresh and clean. As Libby stared he caught sight of Libby too. He looked up every twenty seconds or so and kept her stare for a while, followed by a shy smile. Those eyes! Libby thought. Now why doesn’t someone like that come over to me? ‘Sorry, what were you saying,’ Libby said.

  ‘You’re perving, Libby! You are perving!’ said Sarah.

  ‘I might be, but they started it,’ Libby said coyly.

  Sarah leant over to her right and caught sight of Libby’s target. ‘He’s gorgeous and I think his mate’s okay too.’

  The pair giggled. Seconds later, Libby’s gorgeous man got up and headed towards the bar. Libby was even more impressed. He walked with confidence but didn’t appear over-confident; his upper body was strong, obviously a swimmer or an athlete. After he ordered his round of drinks, he looked back directly at Libby and smiled. It was a look Libby was unaccustomed to. The looks she usually attracted at the Oaks were almost sneers. She’d often tell her friends that a particular guy must have thought she was wearing his top. They were nothing more than lecherous perves, uninviting expressions of dominance which Libby loathed. This was very different and exciting. Libby’s eyes followed him as he walked back to the table carrying the two drinks. Her heart picked up an extra beat or two.

  ‘What do I do now?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you mean? Keep looking on and off. He’ll get the hint.’

  Libby looked back and the hunk had gone, so had his mate. She frowned, scanning the area. Both girls were turning their heads in all directions.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said a male voice from behind Libby.

  She was startled and almost lost her balance. As she tried to stop herself from falling over, someone grabbed her chair and interrupted its sway. The hand belonged to the voice, but Libby was in no position to turn and see who it was. Sarah was looking up behind her with her mouth open.

  ‘That was close,’ said the voice. ‘Sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you.’

  Libby turned a fraction more slowly than she might have. There was no way it could have been the man on her mind. But it was.

  ‘This is going to sound pretty silly, but my friend bet me 50 bucks that I wouldn’t come up and ask you if I could buy you a drink. You can split the 50 if you want.’

  The girls laughed. True or not, it was a good way to break the ice.

  ‘I don’t want to wreck your night, so I’ll leave if you like.’

  Sarah chipped in: ‘Take that other seat.’

  ‘Are you sure? I hate all this “can I buy you a drink” stuff, but I thought it was worth making a fool of myself.’

  The girls laughed. Libby still wasn’t sure what he was up to, but she was happy enough to find out. One thing she was certain of, those eyes were even better up close. They were soft, blue and tempting. And his face was so finely structured she couldn’t take her own eyes off him as he spoke. He even had a dimple.

  ‘While I’m here, my name’s Phillip,’ he offered.

  ‘I’m Sarah, this is Libby.’

  ‘So, Phillip, what do you do?’ Libby asked.

  ‘I’m a computer programmer and kind of trouble shooter in St. Leonards,’ he said. ‘And you guys?’

  ‘I work up the road at Greenwich with a corporate marketing and production company,’ Libby answered.

  ‘In the neighbourhood. A good place to work, isn’t it?’ Phillip said.

  ‘Yeah, and good for shopping too, which I love,’ Libby said.

  ‘True. I shopped for a birthday present for my mum there today.’

  It was small talk, but the conversation was drawing them closer. Libby was enjoying their rapport, though she knew it was really nothing more than mutual flirtation—and she was the one doing most of the talking.

  Soon enough, Phillip’s friend Jason joined them and they had the makings of a party underway. Libby thought the match-up seemed like a damn good idea and proceeded to throw the away rulebook.

  ‘It’s my shout; would you like a drink?’ she said.

  ‘He looked at her and smiled. Libby slowly climbed off her seat and made her way to the bar. As she waited to be served, she turned and looked at Phillip; he was looking back at her and turned away as if he’d been caught. Libby was convinced this was going to be a great night; the Oaks had something special about it for a change.

  Hours passed and the group laughed and joked their way through what seemed like endless rounds of drinks. Everyone had hit the giddy level, everyone except Phillip, who punctuated his bourbons with mineral water. He was clearly still in control and that impressed Libby. She had some experience with heavy-drinking boyfriends and she was always cautious of a man who over-indulged.

  The music was belting out at high decibels and each hit was a favourite of one of the groups. Anything from Roachford sent both Libby and Phillip into a frenzy. Soon enough they moved into the main bar where everyone had flocked onto the floor to dance. Phillip and Libby danced only with each other. Their body language said it all. Even the other dancers detected the tactile chemistry between them. At times she put her hands around his shoulders, which were broad, strong and excited her immensely. When he carefully held her around the waist, Libby forgot where her feet were and where they needed to go. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be held, held with passion. She couldn’t recall it feeling so good. When Libby went to the bar, Phillip followed. He didn’t say much, but wasn’t going anywhere.

  As the night wore on, their lustful looks and banter intensified. Both were pushing the dare as far as they could. The music seemed hushed and the raucous voices abated. There was nothing except desire. She could see only a divine looking man, whom she knew she could have.

  I want him, Libby told herself, as she imagined what his naked body might look like … how taut his chest might be and how good it would feel to have him caress her all over.

  Then, suddenly, the two of them were standing away from the bar, kissing passionately. His arms were wrapped around her body and his fingers were slowly combing her hair. Libby’s arms hands were locked behind his neck. They went from nought to a hundred in a split second. She couldn’t get enough of his mouth and each time he forced his hips against hers, she felt a rush of exhilaration. She couldn’t recall being so turned on, just from kissing. Then, without warning, he moved his lips away and broke the embrace.

  Phillip whispered in her ear, ‘I can’t get enough of this.’

  They kissed for longer, danced more, and laughed at anything that seemed even remotely funny. The excitement of a stranger kissing her felt a little dangerous, but this only fuelled her lust, as did the wine. Should she take him home? Could she even ask the question? Libby would pounce if Phillip asked. The chances that this was a one-night interlude seemed increasingly slim to her. He seemed genuine—in any case, she was hooked.

  Suddenly Phillip’s attentio
n was completely diverted. He excused himself before approaching the bar and talking to a woman, who he clearly knew. Libby wasn’t overly concerned, using the interval to head to the Ladies. She returned to find Phillip still with his friend, close up, in deep conversation. He whispered something in her ear, she kissed him and left without another word spoken. When Phillip returned he told Libby that her name was Frances, a close, old friend. He then changed the subject. Libby wanted to change venue too. She grabbed the others and they headed to the Metropole nightclub in North Sydney, where the four played doubles on the pool tables. A few games, a few more drinks and Libby dragged Phillip away from the sweaty main bar.

  As they walked to a quieter side bar to escape the pounding beat of the music, they embraced again. Phillip pulled up a chair, forcefully dragged Libby onto his lap and kissed her wildly. She enjoyed his bold initiative and they pressed hard against each other. Their bodies were primed for sex—and they both knew it.

  ‘This is getting out of control,’ Libby said.

  ‘Maybe I should go home,’ he whispered, as if testing her attraction.

  Libby pulled back, ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing, that’s the problem,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to do anything you don’t want. You’re absolutely gorgeous.’

  ‘You’re not going anywhere. Come home with me to Mosman,’ Libby whispered as she grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the chair. They were gone.

  The journey to Libby’s cottage—and her bed—a few kilometres away in up-market Mosman, was a blur. Her bedroom was at the front of the house and the streetlights shone through the wooden slats, spreading striped blue light across the walls and over her bed.

  ‘You look so incredible in the moonlight,’ he said. It didn’t take long for the real action to begin. Phillip’s body was more awesome than Libby had hoped. The lighting flattered his wonderfully proportioned shoulders, biceps and forearms. It had been a long time since she’d had a lover of this calibre in her bed. They made love endlessly, Phillip showing an almost insatiable appetite for sex.

  On one occasion he threw her up against wall, lifting her off the floor in the most physical sexual encounter of the night. Throughout this first night, Phillip looked Libby straight in the eye and whispered compliments, telling his new lover how incredible she was. The last thing she could remember was hearing a birdcall in the garden and seeing the tinge of yellow light, piercing through the trees across the street. It was dawn, but she didn’t care what time of the day it was, or how much sleep she’d lost.

  An hour later, Libby finally awoke and prised her bloodshot eyes open. Staring up at the ceiling, she waved her hand across the sheets to touch him, but no one was there. Phillip had gone without even a note. She jumped out of bed and searched the house, but he was gone and Libby’s heart sank. It was too good to be true. He was just like all the others who congregated at the Oaks, a user who only turned on the charm for another one-night stand. How could she have been so stupid?

  That afternoon, however, she had little cause to be disappointed. Her home phone rang unexpectedly. Libby wasn’t prepared for a call from her new friend. She wasn’t even sure how he had found her home number. I must have given it to him, she thought, though she had no recollection of doing so. Either that, or he’d done some quiet detective work of his own on the way out and taken her private number from the telephone dialer. She was now partly relieved, and a little disturbed.

  ‘Hi, it’s me,’ he said.

  ‘Hi “Me”,’ Libby replied, secretly happy that Phillip hadn’t simply disappeared from her life.

  ‘Sorry I had to take off, but you were fast asleep and probably too exhausted to wake up,’

  ‘I was that,’ she replied.

  He quickly insisted they meet again that evening, Saturday, and dine out at a fancy restaurant near the beach. Within a couple of hours, Phillip pulled up at Mosman in his shiny Laser and collected Libby like a true gentleman. She was quite impressed.

  The pair drove down to Balmoral and, over a candlelight dinner, Libby was about to find out who this new man of hers really was—or so she thought. It was he who seemed to be asking all the questions.

  They laughed and chatted about people they admired, common interests they had and music they loved. They’d already discovered they were both into Roachford. Phillip told her how much he loved just staying in and watching a good movie.

  ‘You and I speak the same lingo,’ Phillip told her. ‘I feel like I’ve known you for much longer than this.’ Libby wanted to be nowhere else; she felt like she was at the centre of the world.

  Back at home the lovemaking resumed at full throttle. Twenty-four hours after they first met, the two lovers lay breathless on Libby’s lounge room floor, covered in sweat, their bodies entwined and clinging, more from exhaustion than from a need to be close.

  ‘You are incredible,’ said Libby breathlessly.

  ‘You are,’ he said, as he held her tightly against his body.

  It had been a whirlwind introduction. Libby was dazed by the sheer pace of it, shocked by the ease of her own submission, electrified by the breathtaking passion. She wondered whether it was going too fast. She had no idea where this was heading, but she hoped there was much more to come.

  On the first Tuesday after they met, they’d arranged to have dinner together. Pick-up was at 7:30pm and Phillip was taking care of everything. But 7:30 dragged onto 10:30 and it felt even longer. Libby was on the verge of exploding when he eventually arrived—she’d never been kept waiting that long before. As soon as Phillip walked through the door, it was clear he was in a peculiar state of mind.

  ‘Why are you so late?’ she asked, trying to calm herself.

  ‘Look I’ve had a few drinks. I was just really nervous about coming to see you. I’m so sorry.’

  Phillip wasn’t finished. He told Libby he’d had to leave work later than normal and had then become anxious about her expectations, about having to be the same man as he was when they first met. Strangely, he was giggling through this explanation and Libby knew that he’d had a more than just ‘a few’. She asked him to leave. He refused to go until she told him that she understood. She didn’t understand and wasn’t about to say so. She stood firm and wasn’t letting him off the hook. Eventually Phillip left, frustrated and condemned.

  The following afternoon he had somehow found her work number and rang her, pleading for her to listen.

  At first Libby was adamant that it was as good as over. ‘I’m sorry, but that was really strange and I don’t think I want to see you again,’ she said.

  Then Phillip turned on the charm. He told Libby how bedazzled he was with her. In one short phone call he managed to charm his way into her heart, convince her how nervous he had been the previous night. He promised to be the perfect date, given one more chance.

  Before the working week was over, Phillip was back in her arms and in her bed, after conjuring up the perfect dinner, a date that featured Phillip asking Libby endless questions throughout the evening. He was besotted too. Or at least it appeared that way. The relationship was back on track after a close-to-perfect evening. The wine dulled any questions that lingered about his behaviour as Libby was swept up in their closeness.

  4

  ENTWINED

  ‘Dad, Mum, this is Libby. Libby, my dad, Malcolm, my mum, Kathryn.’

  ‘Hello Mr and Mrs Hopkins, nice to meet you both,’ Libby said nervously.

  ‘It’s Malcolm, Libby, that’ll be fine. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Libby was being thrown in at the deep end. Barely a week after meeting a guy in a pub, Libby was sitting in his parents’ home, drinking tea in a bone china cup and saucer. She shook her head, wondering whether this was the great idea Phillip had promised it would be. Phillip’s sisters and brother arrived at the house at various stages of the afternoon, but the greetings from them weren’t so welcoming. One sister not only refused to say hello to Libby, but didn’t say more t
han three words all afternoon. His other sister, who arrived accompanied by her husband, was an angry young woman, who treated her husband like a total doormat. It was set to be an awkward afternoon. I’m meeting the folks in week two. This is crazy, she thought.

  She didn’t want to spend Sunday alone after such a wonderful, lustful week and Phillip was locked into celebrating his mother’s birthday at his parent’s house. Libby was curious to see where Phillip had come from though; what his family environment was like and how that fitted with what she’d already seen. She had enormous doubts, however, about going there so soon after they’d met.

  The Hopkins’ family home was a mansion, with multiple garages, a pool, tennis court and games/gym room, positioned in the corner of a two-acre property. Libby felt she’d been invited onto the set of Dynasty, but she wasn’t about to tell Phillip that.

  ‘What a great house,’ Libby remarked to Phillip when they had a moment alone.

  ‘Mmm, not bad. I’m glad I don’t live here anymore though,’ Phillip said as he sat down next to Libby on the long leather lounge. ‘Dad was driving me mad in the last few years at school.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Oh, just like Dads do. But mine did it more than others. He wanted me to go to university after doing the private school thing—do law, like my sister, or medicine, like my brother. You know, follow in the footsteps of the rest of the family, build an empire. I just couldn’t even think about doing any more serious long-term study. I’d had a gutful. I liked computers; I was good with them and why not do what you like? Dad never approved though, I could tell that …

  ‘Are you hungry? Mum’s done the usual over-the-top cooking number.’

  ‘Dinner’s on,’ called Kathryn from the doorway.

  Libby was bustled into the dining room to find a veritable king’s feast spread out on the longest table she’d ever seen.

  ‘Oh, that’s gorgeous, Phillip. Thank you, darling,’ said Kathryn after opening her son’s present of perfume.