**Blue, Green, White, Red……..…and Beautiful**
Blue cashmere sweater,
Blueness streaming into eyes,
Inquiring look upon your face,
Elicits wanton sighs.
Sitting at the bar,
Looking lovely, happy, cool,
Waiting my arrival,
Me dizzy as a fool.
Casually relaxed,
Yet taking full command,
With fixed intent, direct and frank,
You know and mark your man.
Green suede jacket,
Flaring at your chest,
Other women fade,
Your persona rules as best.
Woman of guts,
Woman with mind,
Person of caring,
Person so kind.
With slim proportions tall,
And purity of line,
Instilled with tasting flavors,
So much finer than great wine.
Golden bands with jewels,
Grouped together, in total, four,
Wrapping lovely ivory finger,
Where all these bands are wore.
Sapphire, emerald, diamond, ruby,
From hidden vaults of lore,
These bands, your hands,
Call my desire, full roar.
There is no blaze of demon fire,
No steel furnace blast making hot mountain pyre,
Ten blowtorch jets welding red hot wire,
None of these shall, for your perfumed throat, wane my desire.
Gwen hadn’t expected a poem, but she had expected something like this, something romantic. It was a perfect interlude between courses. The waiters appeared and cleared the dishes. She told them to wait for ten minutes before serving the final course. Roger knew this would throw off the timing of the course servings, and therefore would piss off the chef, but he didn’t mess with Gwen when she was on point like this.
She motioned to Peter, who stood and said, “This morning we had a breakfast meeting in Henric’s suite. It was me, Pater, Selgey, Bart, and Henric. We had an idea (nodding at Pater) and we asked Selgey and Bart if they like this idea, and they said yes, and then we ask Henric if he likes this idea, and he said yes, too. Over the last two months we’ve been with Henric a lot, and we watched how he does things. He thinks and then he acts. He does not worry a lot about making decisions, he just makes them. It’s crazy idea, we know, but good idea too, and we like it a lot. And, we are thankful that Selgey and Bart and Henric also like it.” Roger hoped the idea was forthcoming soon, if it was such a good one. Peter gathered his concentration and went on, “We’re going to open ballet academy here in Charleston. That will be our job.” At this he smiled broadly at Roger and Gwen, conveying the fact he and Pater hoped they soon would be off the June dole. “Henric pays the money to startup, Selgey and Bart are Board of Directors, and we are teachers. This school is for kids. That’s because turns out Pater and I and Henric not so privileged in Moscow when we were kids.” He looked at Pater and Henric, who remained impassive. “Selgey and Bart love this new home of Charleston, and so do we, and they want to make Charleston special in ballet world, and so that is our new mission. Ballet in Charleston. We do it.” And Peter moved behind Pater’s chair and tapped his shoulder, and then moved behind Henric’s chair and tapped his shoulder, and then went behind the chairs of Selgey and Bart and put a hand on each of their shoulders. And he smiled.
The ten minutes was up because the waiters appeared with huge trays of cobbler made with upstate peaches, topped with a vanilla sugar paste. The sommelier brought in two bottles of Roger’s second best sauterne (not the d’Yquem, thank you, not for this crowd), which he served. Gwen, who had remained standing after Peter’s presentation, interrupted the serving of the wine. She said to the sommelier, “Two more bottle of champagne, now please, we have something unexpected to celebrate.” The sommelier was taken aback by this, as he and Roger had worked hard together to plan the service and match the wine and food. He was paralyzed, because part of him wanted to look at Roger for confirmation of this command, while the remainder of it was mesmerized by Gwen’s presence. Roger could see what was happening to this poor guy, and he felt sorry for him, but on the other hand, how many guys get intimate in this way with Gwen June. Roger thought he saw the guy’s eyes start to go in different directions, one towards him and one locked on Gwen. Guess which eye won? After a paralyzing moment he nodded at Gwen and left to get two bottles, and he was quick about it, too.
He was back in a flash with the champagne and a new set of glasses. Gwen offered a toast: “To ballet in Charleston, to the city we love, to our team, and to little boys and little girls learning to fly through the air.” Everyone drank to that.
Aristocratic Thieves Page 44
