by Silke Ming
“That’s all right. Take your time. I’ll be here when you return,” he said, appearing on the landing on the uppermost level. “Have fun.”
She climbed into the Beetle and headed north on the gravel road. It was unusually busy at that time of the evening, and that meant ten to twelve cars and trucks along the way. Her friend Toby would laugh at what the people in Port Collier considered a traffic jam. She hadn’t spoken to her former roommate since he had left Whitney, and she decided she would call him when she reached the mall at Port Collier.
Still sitting in the parking lot, she dialled Toby’s number but only got his voicemail. She left a message asking him to return her call. She walked around the complex, trying to make up her mind about what she should have for dinner. It was a long time since she had eaten pizza, so she ordered a small one with olives and arugula, along with a glass of wine, and settled in a booth to dine. It was just as delicious as what she had eaten in Whitney. The movie wouldn’t be starting until eight o’clock, so she had enough time to digest her meal, watch the world go by, and hope that Toby would call while she waited.
She couldn’t imagine why so many people worked and lived in such an isolated area. It was not by any means overcrowded, but there were more people there than she had expected. She saw a familiar face. That of Rachel, and she was accompanied by two of her girl friends. They were laughing and joking as they, too, headed for the pizza shop. They placed their orders and took the booth in front of hers, but didn’t see her. They were discussing a movie they had seen the previous evening. It was obvious her friends did not particularly care for the hero, but Rachel seemed rather thrilled with him.
“That’s because he looks like your artist friend,” said one of her companions.
“Seamus?” her friend asked. “Yes, that’s his name. Have you slept with him yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m not giving up. He is so sexy.”
“Doesn’t he have a wife or a girlfriend?”
“No, he is very much single.”
“So what’s keeping you from getting him between the sheets?” the other girl asked.
“I don’t know,” she said, pausing for a moment.
“Maybe he is playing hard to get. You should just jump on him.”
“I don’t want to lose his friendship,” she said. “Besides, he’s now got an assistant, and she’s hot.”
“Do you think there is something going on between them?”
“Damn!” whispered Summer as her cell phone started to ring.
“Hi, Toby. Can I call you back in a moment?”
She continued to listen, but they had already changed the topic of conversation. Disappointed, she stood up to leave when she was spotted by Rachel, whose mouth dropped open. When she reached the door, the three friends were all looking in her direction. She had obviously told her friends who she was. She walked out and dialled Toby’s number. He picked up on the first ring.
“What was that all about?” he asked.
“I was eavesdropping on a conversation,” she said, laughing. “So tell me, how are you and how is the new job?”
“It has been a rollercoaster ride, Summer. No sooner had I landed in Chicago, than my phone started to ring. It was a call from Whitney, and it was the position I had been hoping for.”
“So what did you do?”
“I am back in Whitney. I prayed to God I wasn’t making a mistake, but it worked out and I am happy to be back.”
“Then we’ll still be able to see each other.”
“How are you and the artist getting along?”
“Fabulously.”
“Do tell everything, girl.”
It was a quarter to nine when the conversation ended, and much too late to see the movie, so she walked around the complex and looked into the store windows. She walked past the Italian restaurant and smiled as she recalled the happenings of two earlier evenings. She wondered what Seamus was doing and how his business meeting was going. She was sure it would probably soon be over, and she would set out for home in half an hour. She went to the hamburger shop and ordered what she thought was the juiciest burger on the menu. Since it was a takeaway item, the waitress packed it in a foil bag so it would be still warm by the time she arrived home.
All she could think of as she drove along the deserted gravel road was seeing the sexy Seamus and the fun they would soon have together. She turned on the radio to hear Adele belting out her favourite song, and she sang along with her. She was in a good mood because she was in love with the handsome Seamus Balsam and couldn’t wait to be with him.
A car she had never seen before was parked in the driveway, so she drove the Beetle under a tree at the front of the home. His business meeting was obviously still in progress. She opened the door, took her shoes off, and placed the hamburger on the stove. It was quite still until she heard what sounded like a whimpering puppy. Maybe it was a baby fox trying to find its mother, she thought. However, the whimpering continued, and then she heard Seamus’s voice. He sounded like a drill sergeant. There was a swishing sound and more whimpering. She wondered what was going on above her on the third level. She opened the entrance door, this time slamming it shut to alert him that she had returned, then went to her room and closed the door. She waited until she finally heard footsteps descending the stairs. There was an unfamiliar voice, and a moment later she heard Seamus’s voice.
“I was hoping I could meet your new assistant,” the stranger said.
“You’ll get a chance to meet her very soon. If you don’t meet her here, you’ll see her in New York.”
“She has certainly made great positive changes around here,” the stranger said.
Summer cracked open the bedroom door open just in time to get a glimpse of him. He was a short, stocky man with a thick beard and small, dark eyes. Yes. She had seen him on television. So that was Fred Podesta, Lana’s wealthy husband. No wonder she had straying eyes. She remembered Seamus’s words, “he provides the money, and I provide the sexual stimulation.” The voices grew fainter as the two men walked to the door, and she heard the engine rumble and the car drive away.
There was a knock and he opened the bedroom door.
“Summer, are you awake?”
She did not answer. The only thing on her mind was where the yelping sound had come from. What had they been doing upstairs? She knew he was now eating the burger, because there was quite a bit of activity down the hall from her bedroom. After listening for a few minutes, she finally fell asleep and she dreamed.
She saw Lana Podesta in her dream. She was out shopping and, on returning home, walked in on Lana and Seamus in a compromising position. In a panic, she jumped into his SUV and drove away. She had no idea where she was going. When she looked into the rearview mirror, she saw Lana and David Balsam, Seamus’s dead father, sitting in the backseat, and she almost ran off the road.
“Did you like what you saw?” David Balsam asked, teasing her.
“How did you get in here?” she shouted, to the two of them.
“Seamus is mine. He will always be mine. I’m going to have his baby,” Lana said, smiling with those bright-red lips.
“Yes, Summer,” said the old man. “She is carrying my son’s child.”
“He cannot make her pregnant,” she screamed at the old man. “She’s too old to bear Seamus’s child. Too old, too…”
She sat up and flicked on the bedside light. She was sweating profusely. Lana was too old to be any kind of a threat. She changed her pyjamas and stretched out across the bed. Seamus, it seemed, had already gone to bed. She went to the kitchen to get a glass of water, and sitting on the dining table was the packaging from the burger he had eaten and half a glass of red wine.
Chapter Nine
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” he said, embracing her. “I missed you last night.”
“Good morning. I had no idea when your meeting would end, so I decided to go to bed.”
“Did you enjoy the movie last night?
What did you see?”
“I never made it to the movies,” she replied, slipping away from him.
“So what did you do up there for such a long time?”
“My old roommate Toby called just as I was about to go into the cinema, and we talked and talked. Then it was too late. The movie had already started, and it didn’t make sense going in.”
“Did you and this Toby sleep together?”
“For your information, Toby is not interested in me in that way. He actually plays for both teams.”
“Which teams?”
She started to laugh, and he finally understood what she meant.
“I see.”
“How was the hamburger?”
“Delicious. Thank you.”
She stared at him.
“So how did the business meeting go?”
“Quite good,” he said. “Fred is a simple and easygoing man. Very uncomplicated.”
“I heard a puppy or a baby animal yelping when I came in last night. I went back out to look but didn’t see anything. I thought it might have been a baby fox that had strayed away from its mother.”
“I wish you hadn’t done that. It could be dangerous out there in the dark. Maybe it was a young coyote searching for its mother.”
“I didn’t think about the danger,” she said. “I guess I won’t do that again.”
“Good girl.”
She continued to stare at him.
“Is something wrong?”
“Did you and Fred have a disagreement last night?”
“What gave you such an idea?”
“At times your voice was loud, so I thought you were arguing.”
“Not at all. He is very easy to get along with. You will see that when you meet him.”
She forgot about the whimpering puppy episode and put it all down to her overactive imagination. Turning on her computer, she continued where she had left off the previous day. They didn’t speak very much because they were both consumed by their tasks, which had to be accomplished in very little time.
“Care for a drink?” she asked.
“Mmm,” he replied without looking up.
She returned with two large glasses of lemonade and set one down beside him. She was about to turn away when he grabbed her hand, causing her to spill some of hers on the floor.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “Can we be here for each other? Just you and me?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You are gorgeous. You are good in bed, and I love being with you.”
“You love being with me, or should you say, you love having sex with me?”
“When I wake up in the morning, the first thing I think about is you. I want you all to myself. I am almost in love with you.”
She started to laugh.
“Did I say something funny?”
“Almost in love with me?” she asked. “I have never heard it expressed like that.”
“Well, I think I love you, Summer Knight.”
She didn’t know what to say. She had long ago separated sex from love. Here was a man whom she had known for only six months, telling her he was in love with her. A man with such a complicated story, she didn’t know where to begin telling it.
“What about Lana Podesta? What will you say to her?”
“Lana has a husband, Summer.”
“That means nothing. You still sleep with her, or should I say, you provide her with sexual stimulation?”
“I’ll put an end to it.”
“And what about Rachel? What will you do with her?”
“She is infatuated with me because I am an older man. She knows there is no hope for a relationship with me.”
“You must have done something to her to make her feel that way.”
“Believe me, Summer, I have never touched her. Well, not in that way,” he said, correcting himself.
“She loves you and is hell-bent on getting you between the sheets.”
“Did she say that?”
“One only has to see the way she looks at you, and it is clear what her intentions are.”
“The only one I want between my sheets is you,” he said, gazing into her eyes.
“Let’s concentrate on the canvas and leave the sheets for another time,” she said.
“Are you happy to be with me?”
“Yes,” she said, smiling as she moved back to the computer.
* * * *
The doorbell rang and Summer opened the door. A young man with a camera strung around his neck and a computer case in his hand stood in front of her.
“Hi,” he said cheerfully. “Is Seamus in? I’m here to take the photos for the exhibit.”
“He’s in the studio, but I haven’t quite finished numbering and cataloguing the paintings,” she said as they climbed the stairs together.
“How many do you have left to do?” the young man asked.
“Probably fifteen.”
“That’s not a problem. I’ll start with the photographs and you can carry on with what you are doing. Hello, Seamus.”
“Robin, how are you?” he asked, shaking the young man’s hand.
“Surprised by the number of paintings you have here. How many are there?”
“Seventy-seven,” said Summer.
“Are they all to be photographed for the exhibition?”
“Most all of them,” said Seamus. “I think there are only about ten which I am not taking with me.”
“If you can move those to the side, I will start right away,” the young man said.
“Can I get you a cold drink?” asked Summer as she noticed the beads of perspiration on his forehead.
“Thank you very much.”
“How about a glass of lemonade?” she asked.
“That would be nice.”
She returned with three glasses of lemonade on a tray. She handed one to him, set one beside Seamus’s computer, and the last one next to her. She watched as Seamus removed ten paintings from the lot and put them to the side. Included was the painting of the woman who bore a strong resemblance to Lana Podesta.
Click! Click! Click! Those were the only sounds heard in the room, as each one of them was fully occupied with their individual tasks.
“What does it say here?” asked the photographer, staring at the painting of the nude Rachel.
“Ask Summer. She gave it the title.”
He turned to Rachel.
“Ohne Ausdruck! It means ‘without expression.’”
“Brilliant,” said the young man. “I can see why you gave it that title.”
Seamus smiled but did not turn around. She was indeed brilliant. They kept on working until they were totally famished. It was seven thirty in the evening, and they were all still going full steam ahead.
“Maybe we should call it a night,” said Seamus. “We haven’t taken a break all day.”
“That’s not a bad idea. I’ll come back tomorrow, and I’ll have it all done before the end of the day,” Robin replied.
They walked him out to his car and he quickly reversed down the driveway.
“Alone at last,” said Seamus.
“I am so tired that I am finding it hard to concentrate,” she said.
“No need to concentrate. Just relax and enjoy what I have in store for you.”
Chapter Ten
“I’ll make some sandwiches for dinner, and you can watch the news,” he said.
“And I’ll take a hot shower so that I can relax. My shoulders hurt.”
“Go ahead. I’ll have everything prepared by the time you return.”
She turned on the shower and stepped in. The warm water on her body felt refreshing. Not too hot and not too cool. She shampooed her hair and poured a bit of bath gel onto her hands. Honey and lavender! The smell of the gel was lovely, and she inhaled deeply as she rubbed and massaged it all over her body. As she rubbed it between her legs, she gasped. She knew she wanted to be with Seamus, but hadn’t rea
lized how turned on she really was. She quickly dried her hair and body, lingering at the pulsing between her legs. She wondered about Seamus. Was he also feeling the same way? Three nights had gone by and they hadn’t touched each other, and she was at the boiling point. The volcano was about to erupt.
Her fingers lingered between her thighs, and she set one leg on the bathtub and fondled herself. It felt really good and she was lost in her own private world, when he suddenly called out her name.
“Be there soon,” she said.
She put on her satin robe and stepped into the hallway. When she reached the living room, he was not there, but the television set was on and two large smoked-meat sandwiches, a bottle of wine, and two glasses were on the coffee table. She sat in one corner of the sofa and stretched out. She could hear the water running in Seamus’s bathroom, and then it stopped. He appeared on the landing, his hair wet and dressed in a terry cloth robe, and she watched as he strutted down the stairs. Her fixation was on his long, lean body, and the desire to touch him and be touched by him.
“You haven’t started,” he said, lifting her legs and putting them across his lap.
He poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. She sat up and picked up a sandwich.
“Cheers,” he said, his glass clinking against hers.
“This is very good. You said you couldn’t cook.”
He picked up the remote and turned the television off.
“Much more romantic without it,” he said, pushing a disc into the CD player and hearing the voice of Lionel Richie belting out the hit, “Three Times a Lady.”
“What do you think I did before you came here? I made my dinner each evening. Perhaps not lamb chops or these fancy dishes you make, but it was dinner nevertheless.”
“Are you criticizing my cooking?”
“I love your cooking. Look, I must have gained five pounds since you arrived here.”
“I forgot to give these to you,” she said, picking up a handful of mail. “They came in the post today.”
“It’s a lot. What’s there?”
“Just advertising for artist. New colors, palettes, and such things.”
