by Freda, Paula
Jessica dug into her purse for her keys. She slipped her arm around the edge of the door, turned the latch on the knob, and pulled the door shut, then inserted the key into the deadbolt and locked it, as well. "All done," she said, replacing the keys into her purse, and facing Ben. "There's so much to remember," she said, flippantly.
Ben eyed her curiously. "Don't folks lock their doors when they go out in the Northeast?"
"Actually ... No."
"No one in the ... Northeast ... has ever had a break-in?" he asked.
Jessica hesitated replying, but she was determined that he should learn to trust her. And lying wasn't conducive to gaining his trust. Very soon he must learn the truth. Without further adieu, she replied simply. "No. We ... don't have locks."
She read the disbelief on his face. She added in a conciliatory tone, "We don't have crime."
"Really?" he asked, his expression saying — as one of the idioms listed in her vade mecum went — she was missing a few marbles."
"Where are we going for dinner?" she asked, attempting to change the subject.
"Bolero's Run. It's a new fancy steak house, but, "he added quickly, remembering she had mentioned not being a meat eater, "they serve fish and vegan meals."
"Sounds interesting," Jessica said.
"Come on," he said, cupping her elbow.
Jessica tried to steady her breath as she allowed him to lead her to the elevators. He had no idea for the present how his touch warmed and pleasured her. The essences in her world had long ago discarded their outer shells, unaware of the price to be paid for attaining the state of pure intellect. The loss of the physical sensations of touch, of warmth, the gentleness of a caress. Reasons why her species came to earth, their closest neighbor.
There was strength in his hand, but also gentleness. And in his essence, she added, when he glanced at her patiently, and said, "You look lovely."
CHAPTER SEVEN
Bolero's Run also proved a good choice. Ben ordered two glasses of rosé to pair with Jessica's vegan filet mignon and his Rib-eye Steak. He watched Jessica eat with gusto. Fiona was definitely having a healthy influence on the young woman, he thought, pleased. In between mouthfuls, Jessica sipped her sparkling wine. Her nose crinkled as the tiny bubbles burst, and tickled the tip of her cute nose and prickled her taste buds.
Ben asked, "Are you planning on getting your own apartment?"
Jessica finished savoring her first sip of the cold, crisp rosé, before replying. "No. My friend has asked me to room with her indefinitely."
Ben remarked, "Fiona is a kind woman with a pleasant personality. I'm glad she has taken you under her wing."
"Yes, to both. But she's lonely."
"What makes you say that?"
"She yearns for a mate."
Ben's brow furrowed. Here she goes again, he thought, grimacing. "Jessica, why do you make such statements? I don't believe Fiona would approve."
"Why would she object? It's the truth."
"Truth or not, you should at least not be telling me that."
"I should tell Lester Edwards," she said. "You're right, though. Telling him would not be appropriate either. He must arrive at that knowledge, and decide whether to reciprocate, by himself."
What was she talking about? Ben wondered. She bewildered him — how she could switch from childlike simplicity to intellectual womanhood. At times her phrases sounded archaic. Sometimes weird. Rather than ask further questions — interrogation, as she had referred to his inquiries during a previous meal, he opted to change the subject again. "I brought along some sketches. Lester wants me to discuss them with you. After dinner, I'll show them to you in the car."
"Yes, I think I can help you."
"I don't need help," Ben said, "just some input and an opinion."
"Sorry," Jessica said. "I didn't mean to question your talent. Lester showed me the sketch you did of the initial background. There are some small—" Jessica held back. He had unconsciously picked up on her memories as she neared his world, but his brain's ability to process the images was not as yet fully evolved. Humans were on the same evolutionary road that her civilization had taken millenniums ago. Like her ancient ancestors, earthlings possessed extra sensory perception, but only a few knew how to access its potential. Evolution would one day enable them all to make full use of that ability.
What she said next was not the complete truth, but it might set his mind to rest on why Lester wanted him to discuss the sketches with her. "I believe your boss wants me to feel comfortable with your ideas, so I can visualize the background, as I pose for the photographer against the green screen."
Her remark had the desired effect. "Well, that at least makes sense," Ben said, a smile teasing his mouth.
Earthlings haven't yet learned to control their egos, she mused as she finished her meal. She nearly swooned with pleasure as she consumed the chocolate brownie with hot fudge sauce. Two cups of sweetened coffee, hers light, his regular, finished their meal for the evening.
Later, sitting in the front seat beside each other, they studied the sketches.
"They are accurate for the most part," Jessica said.
"What do you mean, accurate?" Ben asked. Best to ignore the strangeness and concentrate on the explanation, he thought quietly.
"Well," Jessica pointed to a spot near the edge of the alien city in the distance. "Think of the city different in physical construction, architecture, style, but building types not unsimilar to cities in your own world. They would have dwelling buildings, guidance buildings, transport areas, schools, arboretums and botanical gardens, recreational areas, and most importantly, a place of worship."
Too much detail, Ben thought at first. But those details would add depth to his sketch. "You're asking me to create an actual world, alien, but in essence basic to our own."
"Yes," Jessica answered simply.
"What I've drawn in the sketch is merely an impression of an alien city. You want me to make it Three-Dimensional."
"Yes," Jessica urged. "Make it my world. A place I inhabited, before I fell from the stars to the earth."
"You don't happen to have an encyclopedia based on this world you want me to create?" he asked, jokingly.
"I do actually," she surprised him. She amended quickly, "I've dabbled in writing ... science fiction and fantasy. I put together some details about such a city from one of the stories I published."
"Published?" he asked, his tone incredulous. “Where?”
"Well, no where on this earth," she laughed, hoping he'd take her reply as a joke.
He did, and laughed with her.
"All right," he agreed, interest definitely sparked. "Tomorrow, come to the art department, to my cubicle."
Jessica hesitated, then added, "Would you mind if I came to your apartment. I heard you often work from home. I'd rather give you my input in private. Too many ears in your Art Department."
It was his turn to hesitate. Jessica reassured him. "I trust you. You're a gentleman."
Ben eyed her curiously. She had guessed what he was thinking. He should not be surprised. She had divined his thoughts before. He wondered if she sensed his growing attraction to her. And that it wasn't only her he worried about, but himself, as well. Yes, he'd been raised a gentleman by loving and deeply religious parents, but he was still a man, and had known desire.
"All right," he agreed, against his better judgment. Lord, stand beside me, he silently implored, contemplating how beautiful she was, especially when she smiled this radiantly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As agreed between them, Jessica came to his apartment early the next morning, dressed again in T-shirt and jeans. She carried no handbag, but he could see the outline of a wallet in her hip pocket on one side, and on the other, most likely her cellphone and keys. She brought with her buttered bagels and coffee in a Dunkin′ Donuts paper bag. They sat down at the small table in the breakfast nook by a large window overlooking the city.
"Thanks," he s
aid, when she handed him his bagel and coffee. He watched her dig into her bagel shamelessly. No timid little mouse this one, he thought chuckling, good-naturedly.
Jessica glanced up askance.
"Sorry," Ben apologized. "It's refreshing to see someone in your field eat with gusto, unlike the other models I've known who barely eat at all and pick distastefully at what they do eat."
Jessica took another bite from her bagel, chewed it, gave a little sigh of pleasure, and swallowed. "Well, I was warned to eat healthy. The manual advised staying away from fats and too much sugar. But nothing was forbidden as long as I kept to the correct portions."
"That's good advice, but what manual are you referring to?"
Jessica realized her mistake and spaced her explanation, contemplating each word before she spoke it. "A ... health manual ... health course ... on the ... human body."
Ben nodded. "High school, I presume."
"Yeah," she said, that's it."
"Just out of curiosity," he asked. "Did you graduate high school, attend college?"
This time her reply was quick. Her chin tilted up and he heard pride in her tone. "Oh yes, I was in the top ten for merit at the institute of higher learning."
"You mean college or university."
Jessica pursed her lips, as if annoyed, not at him, but at herself. She appeared stumped for a reply. Finally she said, "Truthfully, we don't refer to it as college or university. It's a private institute."
"Is it accredited?" he asked, worriedly.
"Oh yes, most definitely," she replied.
"What's the name?" he prodded.
"Institute of Higher Learning," she answered. Her smile told him that was all the information he would get about this subject. He finished his bagel and coffee.
Jessica cleared the table and threw away the bag and wrappings. "Shall we get to work?" she asked.
"Yeah, let's do that." He led her into his home office."
She glanced around the room. "Nice," she said. She noted especially the bookcase filled with art books. And the framed graduation diplomas from the college and art institutes he had attended,
"You paint?” she remarked, noting the covered easel and painting accessories on one side of the room, by a corner window and under a skylight.
"Yeah, I dabble in it," he offered.
"May I?" she motioned to the covered easel she assumed held a painting.
"No," he answered rather sharply. "It's not finished."
He read the disappointment on her face. "I will show it to you when it's finished," he promised.
"Okay," she said, accepting the inevitable. "I guess we should start with the background sketches."
She moved with him toward the drawing table.
"Just a minute," he said, and opened a closet door, pulled out a folding chair, and placed it beside his drafting chair. Cardboard tubes containing his sketches lined the adjacent wall. He chose a few, then withdrew a ledger sized sketch pad from his carrying case and placed it on the tabletop and opened it to his original rough drawing of the moon landscape, the alien city in the background, and the partial image of the brown and yellow planet that filled one upper side of the sketch.
Jessica sat down in the folding chair and studied the drawing. She waited for Ben to occupy his chair, then turned to him. "I'm going to give you some details which you can incorporate in the sketch. You may not immediately agree with them, but please, humor me, and don't judge until the sketch is completed with my changes."
Ben frowned. She was supposed to give him opinions, not ask him to redo the whole drawing. She had asked him not to judge until he had incorporated her changes. Very well. But she was a mystery to him. So beautiful with her silky hair tied into a pony tail with a blue velvet ribbon, and eyes dark blue and flashing with the sort of mystery that magnetized. He had never met anyone like her. It would be so easy to let her into his life and never look back.
"Ben?" her voice was soft and velvety. Startled, he realized he was staring at her again. He shook his head to clear it and refocus on the reason she sat beside him in front of the drawing table.
"All right," he said, gathering his wits about him. He closed the sketchpad. He withdrew from the cardboard tube, the finished colored drawing of the girl wearing the designer blue velvet garment, standing in the center at the forefront. A gentle breeze played with her hair and her gown, and the shawl pinned to one shoulder undulated and rustled softly behind her. Immediately he realized he had made her hair too light. He opened the drawer under the table and drew out some colored markers. With light strokes, he added a touch of pale tawny brown to the hair to give the ash honey blonde a burnished glow.
Jessica nodded approvingly. "Yes, yes that's much better."
"All right," he said, conceding. "So, what about the background.
She took a deep breath, as though preparing to deliver a thesis. "The colors on the planet around which our moon revolves — not brown and green, but auburn and a brownish sage."
He didn't question her. Perhaps, like him, she had dreamt about the setting, and her perception of the colors might naturally be different. He chose the appropriate markers and again with gentle strokes, changed the colors per her descriptions.
"Yes, that's much more realistic." Her tone heightened. "Now the gravel under my feet. Not quite so gray, almost white. And there are three large pale yellow suns. Our planet is very old."
Gingerly, he made the changes. He lightened the color of the gravel by adding some white.
"What about the Aurora Borealis?" he asked.
"That's exactly what it looks like," she replied, eyes wide with enthusiasm. "But the structural design of the city needs some alteration."
Ben eyed her quizzically. There it was again. A sudden shift to an intellectual personality. "All right, what do you suggest?"
"The buildings are not so dissimilar. Some have turrets, others are squarer, or more rectangular. The Institute of Higher Learning is at the far end, with a huge revolvable telescope dome." She pointed to the location. "And here," her voice attained a loftiness and flowed with inspiration, "is our place of worship to the Creator of all things." She paused a moment, then pointed to another spot, "And here is where I grew up. There is an open-air garden with flora in myriad colors, flora imported from various worlds." She smiled warmly at the memory, adding, "Every habitat has its own open-air garden. Some have fountains in the center with water spewing upward in the colors of the Aurora Borealis, very much as it did millenniums ago on the planet below."
He had meant to ask her, "What about the planet below?"
We did live on it millenniums ago, in corporeal form, when it was capable of sustaining life."
Ergo, he thought, the lack of green and blue, vegetation and oceans.
She had used the word we. But putting that thought aside for the moment, what intrigued him more was her use of the word corporeal. He inquired, "But the girl in the sketch has a body, a very attractive one."
"Oh yes, but it's not compulsory."
"Wait a minute," Ben asked. "Are you telling me that the beings that inhabit this world of your imagination are non-corporeal — have no bodies?"
"We did, millenniums ago. But we evolved into pure thought — essences."
Ben rubbed his forehead. "Then where did the girl's body come from?"
"It was created, imbued with an essence, from the moment of its existence. It had a normal childhood with loving parents, schooling as it matured, and was given the choice of how to spend the remainder of its life."
Ben rubbed his forehead. "Jessica, you have a truly vivid imagination. And I think that's enough fantasizing for one morning."
"You're right, Ben, I'm sorry. It's too much for your human mind to absorb at one time. The structural changes are enough to make the sketch realistic enough." Jessica stood up. "It's time for me to leave. I'm needed for further shoots."
"Wait a moment," Ben said, rising as well. He couldn't escape the feeling that every time s
he used the word we, she believed in the reality of this fantasy, or worse, that she hailed from that world. He clasped her shoulders, glancing down at her. "Please tell me that you don't actually believe such a world truly exists."
"It does," she said simply. "And I was born there."
Ben's fingers tightened about her shoulders. "Jessica, for heaven's sake—"
"It's all right, Ben, I'm not crazy. I shouldn't have used the word we. I've frightened you and I apologize. Let it remain a fantasy, for now." She gazed up into his eyes affectionately, then reading his true concern, she stood on tiptoe and brought her lips to his.
Her kiss was the gentlest he had ever known, but the desire that flooded his entire being, was the most intense he had ever experienced. Ben let go of her shoulders and enclosed her in his arms. His lips responded passionately. For a moment she allowed the kiss, but then pulled back and buried her face in the crook of his neck. Ben felt her quiver with pleasure as she nuzzled her cheek against its warmth.
He clasped her tightly, but sensed her reluctance to go further. Fighting his desire, he let her go. If she was crazy, he thought awkwardly, then he must be part of that madness, to be feeling such an attraction to her. "Come on, I'll drive you to work," he said. He rolled up the drawing and replaced it in the cardboard tube. "I'll make the changes to the buildings in my cubicle at the office."
They spoke little in the car, their thoughts immersed in the feelings stirring within them. When they lit from the elevator, to go in opposite directions, Ben took Jessica's hand. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"
Jessica studied his face. He had the uncanny feeling that she was attempting to read his thoughts. But the feeling lasted only an instant, and remained unfulfilled as Jessica lowered her gaze. "Forgive me," she said. "I forget myself. Yes, of course, I'll have dinner with you."
He nodded. "Good, I'll see you tonight." He watched as she turned and headed towards the photographer's studio.
