The Executive Floor

by Belinda Wright

  ‘Now that is a sight.’ He sighed. ‘It looks and smells amazing!’

  ‘It doesn’t look that great,’ Chantelle said, looking at the dish with the rough pastry edges. ‘But it’s home-made.’

  ‘It looks great. Far better than any factory produced perfectly finished thing with no taste.’

  ‘It’s still a little hot. It’s better to eat it cool. Shall we drink an aperitif while we wait?’ Chantelle suggested. Granger went to the drinks cabinet at the side of the room and opened the cupboard. ‘What would you like?’

  ‘Have you got Martini Bianco?’

  ‘Err, no. But I will have tomorrow.’ Granger gave an apologetic smile. ‘I’ve got whisky. And vodka. Cognac?’

  ‘Whisky then,’ she said. Granger took two glasses and poured them both a measure. He handed one to her and they sat down at the table.

  ‘This is nice,’ Chantelle said, looking out of the window at the lights of Summerville.

  ‘Sure is.’ Granger grinned. ‘I have a great view whichever way I look!’ Chantelle felt her cheeks turned red and Granger frowned. ‘Sorry, that sounded pretty corny, didn’t it? It wasn’t meant to come out like that.’

  ‘What’s corny?’ Chantelle asked.

  Granger shrugged. ‘Cliché, a predictable line. Sorry. I’ll try to be more inventive. But it’s true. You are beautiful.’ He met her eyes and Chantelle felt that connection between them again. She looked away and sipped her whisky, wondering what to say.

  ‘Sorry to bring it up again, but I just can’t stop thinking about it … It must have been tough, growing up without parents,’ Granger said, breaking the silence.

  ‘It’s OK. It was tough. It still is.’

  ‘There are times – some milestones – that you need your parents and having them there just can’t be replaced, I guess. School sports days, graduation. Not having someone there for you at those moments hurts. You watch the other kids with their mum and dad. You can feel so alone,’ Granger said, his eyes clouded.

  ‘Thankfully, I never felt alone,’ Chantelle said, shaking her head. ‘My aunt and uncle were always there. They made sure they were front row at my graduation and any sports events or music concert I had. They have become like my parents.’

  ‘You’re lucky,’ Granger said, and ran a hand through his hair.

  Chantelle watched him; there was something bothering him. ‘What about you? Was your father able to make it to your things? Your, how did you call them, milestones? Or was it just your mum?’

  Granger frowned. ‘My father is still in Morocco.’

  ‘So, he couldn’t make it to your events?’

  He shook his head. ‘No, he couldn’t. Not many.’

  ‘It was just your mum?’

  ‘Hmmm, I guess you could say that,’ Granger murmured; his eyes were locked on the table.

  ‘How old were you when you moved to England, did you say?’

  ‘Very young, seven. I don’t even remember living in Morocco as a child, just when I went back as I was older. Just me and my mum moved here. My dad kind of lived between the two countries.’

  ‘Did your parents split up?’ Chantelle asked. She was struggling to understand what growing up had been like for Granger.

  He shook his head. ‘No, they’re still together.’ He drained his glass. ‘Shall we eat? I don’t think I can look at this much longer!’ He got up and began serving the food.

  ‘Are you looking forward for the trip?’ Chantelle asked.

  He nodded. ‘There is still a lot of prep to do, but I’m getting there. It’s a big deal, we’ve been working on it for a long time. It will mean a lot for the company if it all goes ahead.’

  ‘Once we’re finished eating I’ll let you get on with your work. If it’s OK, I’ll go for a swim.’ She smiled. ‘I brought my swimming costume this time.’

  Granger grinned. ‘Now I’m imagining you in the pool without it – I don’t think I’ll concentrate on my work.’

  She looked at him, took a breath and let it out slowly. She longed to run her hands over his body. The fire he had started in her before dinner was still burning. ‘Come with me, then.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me! Working is the last thing I feel like doing now.’

  ‘Then it’s better I do go swimming – that way you can focus. And when I get back, hopefully you’ll be finished.’

  ‘This is great, by the way,’ Granger said, pointing at his half-eaten piece of quiche. ‘I didn’t realise how much I like quiche Lorraine.’

  ‘Do you want some more?’

  ‘Yes, please.’

  She cut him another piece and put it on his plate. He helped himself to more salad.

  After dinner, they carried the plates through to the kitchen and loaded the dishwasher. Then Granger sat down at his computer and Chantelle went upstairs to get undressed; she came downstairs in the robe.

  ‘Damn,’ Granger muttered, looking up from his computer.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ She stopped.

  ‘This bloody formula, I just can’t get it to work.’ He pushed the computer away from him.

  ‘Let me have a look,’ Chantelle said, leaning over his desk. He slid his chair to the side and pulled over another chair for her to sit down. She picked up the computer.

  ‘You know you are gorgeous when you’re concentrating,’ he murmured, reaching over and brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes.

  A smile curled at the side of her mouth, but she didn’t move her eyes from the screen. ‘So are you,’ she whispered.

  His fingers trailed over her cheek and she allowed her eyes to stray from the screen, taking in his ruffled hair, and his intense gaze, fixed on her.

  ‘Stop, I’m working,’ she said.

  ‘You’re distracting me,’ Granger moaned, slipping his hand inside her robe.

  ‘I’m distracting you? I’m helping you,’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Yes, but you’ve got no clothes on. How can you expect me to let you work on my formulas with no clothes on?’

  ‘I have got clothes on. I’ve got my swimming costume and robe on,’ Chantelle protested.

  ‘Hardly any clothes,’ Granger muttered, standing up and kissing her neck. He took her hands off the computer and led her away from the desk to the sofa, pulling her down on top of him, his fingers finding their way underneath the swimsuit to the soft flesh of her breast. A sigh escaped from her lips as his hard fingers brushed her nipple. She raised her face to his, letting his lips enclose hers; there was a warm taste of Bordeaux on his tongue. Her fingers raised his T-shirt, lifting it up his body, exposing the firm skin of his stomach and chest. He pulled it off over his head.

  Chantelle pressed her palms against him; finally she got to touch him. ‘I want you,’ she whispered.

  ‘You’ve got me,’ he answered, his voice gravelly, catching in his throat. He kissed her harder, the stubble of his chin grazing the soft skin of her face.

  ‘I want you now!’ she emphasised. She pulled at his jeans. In returned Granger dragged the robe down over her shoulders, exposing her body. He stood up, grabbed his wallet from his jacket and took out a condom. He pulled it on as Chantelle wriggled out of her swimming costume. He took hold of her hand and pulled her up, so she was standing. She breathed deeply, holding her shoulders back, fighting the urge to feel self-conscious. He didn’t seem to notice the flaws in her body. His hands brushed over her hips and bottom, caressing her as he went. The top of her head reached his nose; she looked up at him and he rested his arms on her shoulders and kissed her forehead. She could feel him pressing against her bare legs.

  Granger moved backwards and sat on the sofa, leaning back, his hips forward. He held out his hands to her, and she stepped forward and climbed on to the sofa on top of him. He guided her down, hands either side of her thighs. He held her hips and supported her weigh as
she moved above him.

  Chantelle let her hair fall over her face and over her body. She could feel it brushing over his chest as she leaned over. From her position she could watch his face, watch every wave and flicker of enjoyment as she moved. She adapted her pace to match his pleasure. She moved slowly, then faster, then slower again. She could see it building in him, his blue eyes, his face giving away that he was close. She increased her speed, lowering herself on to him further with each stroke, so he went deeper within her. She watched him; she saw the exact moment that his orgasm swept through him and she felt a wave of happiness at what she’d achieved.

  She lowered her body down on to his chest, her arms slipping around his neck, her head on his chest. He enclosed her in an embrace and held her, stroking her hair.

  ‘This is nice,’ he whispered.

  ‘Hmmm,’ Chantelle agreed, looking out of the window. It was dark outside; the lights of the city were like stars in the darkness.

  ‘This is one of the best evenings I’ve had in a long time. Funny, you don’t need an expensive restaurant or club. Just a home-cooked meal and amazing company.’ He kissed her shoulder.

  ‘Shall we do this again tomorrow night? After you’ve worked.’ Chantelle grinned.

  Granger chuckled. ‘If you’re not careful I won’t want to leave!’

  ‘Or do you have plans for your last night before the trip?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m spending the evening with you. No work, just an evening together. You can choose what we do.’ He reached for his wallet and took out a credit card. ‘And before I forget, take this. Use it for anything you need while I’m gone – things for the flat, things for Rocky. And if you decide you need something too.’

  Chantelle took the card and turned it over. ‘Hmmm. Tesla garage, here I come!’

  He laughed and grabbed her waist and squeezed, causing her to burst out laughing. ‘There is a limit. And it won’t stretch to a Tesla, I’m afraid,’ he said.

  ‘Ah, pity.’ She mocked disappointment and put the card in her bag. ‘I’m joking. I’ll only use it for the apartment. You can trust me.’

  Granger looked at her. His eyes met hers and he put his hand on her cheek. ‘I know I can trust you. That’s why I gave it to you.’ He lowered his mouth and kissed her. Chantelle closed her eyes, losing herself in his arms again. Then she pulled away.

  ‘OK, I’m going for a swim before it’s too late, and to let you finish your work,’ she said, putting on her swimming costume and robe.

  ‘I wish I could join you.’ Granger sighed, getting dressed then sitting down at his computer.

  ‘I don’t think I’d get any swimming done if you did,’ Chantelle said, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

  ‘I guess. Don’t be too long. I’m kind of tired. I think for the first time in years I might need an early night.’ He grinned.

  Chantelle laughed and headed out of the door.

  The next day, while he was at work, Chantelle took the bus into Summerville town. She bought a saucepan, plates and cutlery, then went to the supermarket and loaded up on ingredients. She had to take a taxi back to his apartment because the bags were too heavy to carry. As the car pulled up she hesitated, Granger’s credit card in her hand. She couldn’t charge him for that. She put the card back into her purse, took out a ten-pound note and gave it to the driver. She got out and unlocked the door to the apartment. Granger had already given her a key. She swallowed; this was the last night and then he would be gone for a week and she had time for herself to focus on finding a new job. She could enjoy tonight and worry about the rest tomorrow.

  The kitchen was full of the aroma of roasting duck and frying potatoes when Granger came home that night.

  ‘I’m in heaven,’ he murmured, coming up behind her. ‘A beautiful woman in my apartment making dinner. What did I do to deserve this? And how can I be contemplating leaving for a week?’ He kissed her neck.

  ‘Go and pack. Dinner will be ready in half an hour, and then after that I’ve got a surprise!’ Chantelle said, smiling.

  ‘A surprise?’ Granger raised an eyebrow. ‘Does it involve swimming in your underwear?’ Chantelle laughed and shook her head.

  ‘Is it anything to do with you in your underwear?’ Granger asked, leaning against the kitchen door frame watching her. She looked down at herself, there was a tea towel tucked into her skirt in place of an apron and her shoes were kicked to the side of the room.

  ‘It’s nothing to do with my underwear!’

  ‘Shame,’ Granger muttered, and ran his hands through his hair, leaving it standing up in a messy line.

  ‘I want to take you out somewhere,’ Chantelle said.

  Granger looked at her and narrowed his eyes. ‘You want to take me out? OK, how should I dress for this mysterious outing?’

  She shrugged. ‘Casual. Jeans. As you want. It’s not fancy.’ She turned back to the cooker. ‘I need to stir this so it doesn’t burn.’

  When she turned back, he was still watching her. She pushed him out of the kitchen. ‘Go and change!’ Rocky was lying by the kitchen door, watching them.

  ‘Boy? Walk?’ Granger said, looking at him. Rocky looked away and Granger frowned. ‘No response?’

  ‘I took him out already, earlier,’ Chantelle told him.

  ‘I see.’ He turned back to Rocky. ‘Come with me while I get changed?’ Rocky didn’t move his head from where it was resting on his paws. Granger held up his hands in defeat. ‘I’ve lost him! Seems like my dog is as taken by you as I am.’ He headed upstairs.

  Chantelle laid the table with the new things she had bought and lit a candle. When Granger came down he had showered, and his hair was damp and swept off his face. He’d changed into jeans and a sweater that made her want to jump into his arms.

  ‘Do you have some red wine?’ she asked.

  ‘A French girl asking me for wine? I should be wary,’ he joked, and headed to his wine rack and produced a good bottle. He opened it and left it to breathe.

  Chantelle came out of the kitchen carrying the dish of confit duck. She placed it on the table and went to get the potatoes. As she came back she noticed his case was by the front door ready to go. A pang of sadness stabbed her stomach. This was their last night together.

  It’s only a week, she told herself as she took the warm dish to the table and set it down. And she had to focus on the future. Her future, finding a job and a place to live. She needed to be on her own to get on with it.

  Granger had turned on the music; soft jazz filled the room. He sat down at the table and filled her wine glass. He picked up the new plate she had bought that afternoon. ‘Nice. Perfect, exactly what I would have chosen. You’ve made a good start.’

  ‘Ahh, that sounds like a wonderful proposition, a week of shopping with someone else’s money.’ She laughed.

  ‘I don’t want you living here without all the proper stuff.’

  She felt a shiver of excitement. He didn’t want her living there without the proper stuff. Did he mean just next week, or did he mean after that? She pushed the thought out of her mind. ‘Hmmm, this smells wonderful,’ he said, as she dished out the food on to their plates. ‘It’s amazing to be with someone who appreciates good food.’ His clear eyes met hers.

  Chantelle smiled, remembering how her Aunt Carolyn would always make her a nice dinner the night before she went off to college or away anywhere. ‘I couldn’t let you fly off to the US without a decent meal.’

  Granger raised his glass. ‘Here’s to good company and successful meetings,’ he said.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Chantelle said, remembering the importance of the trip. ‘Are you prepared for the meeting?’

  ‘Yeah, of course.’ He grinned. ‘All that extra help with Excel I’ve had is going to give me the edge to close the deal.’ He winked and she laughed.

  ‘I didn’t help that muc
h!’

  ‘Every little helps,’ he said. ‘This is so good. Better than a lot of restaurants I’ve eaten in,’ Granger said. ‘And I generally only eat in good restaurants.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Chantelle said, looking down at her plate, feeling embarrassed. It was something she often ate at home in France, in the colder months. The way he complimented and flattered her made her feel special, but it was too much. Wasn’t it?

  ‘Where are we going afterwards?’ Granger asked, fixing her with a stare.

  ‘It’s near. The other side of the park. Cubano bar. Do you know it?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘The other side of the park? I don’t think so. Doesn’t ring a bell.’ They finished eating and carried the dishes to the kitchen.

  ‘Ready? Let’s go. I want to be there by eight,’ Chantelle said. It was seven forty-five.

  He looked at her suspiciously. ‘Are we meeting someone?’

  Chantelle laughed and shook her head. ‘You’ll see, c’mon.’ Rocky looked up from where he was sitting on the sofa. ‘You too, Rock, you come too!’ She held out her hand and the dog jumped down and trotted to the door. They pulled on their coats. Granger took the dog lead and they went into the lift and down to the ground floor.

  Granger led the way out of the apartment block and then stopped. It was dark and there was a cold autumn chill in the air. He zipped up his leather jacket, bent down and clipped the lead on the dog’s collar then looked at Chantelle. ‘You’d better lead the way.’

  Chantelle nodded; she had pulled the belt of her coat tight around her waist. She set off in the direction of the park but turned right at the park gates and headed around the outside, keeping close to the fence. Granger took her hand; they walked in silence and Chantelle began to feel butterflies in her stomach.

  What if he didn’t like the place she was taking him? It wasn’t exactly his usual sort of posh expensive bar. Was this all a silly idea? She swallowed; the click, click, click of Rocky’s claws on the pavement was comforting.

  They turned the corner and Chantelle could see the bar. She led the way across the road to the parade of shops. Most were closed except for the fish and chip shop and, three doors further up, a Chinese takeaway. Next door to the closed florist was Cubano bar. Chantelle stopped and turned to look at Granger. ‘Here we are.’ She watched him as he examined the place. ‘It’s not too busy yet.’