Seductive Truths (Seductive Trilogy)

by Becky Cairns

  Scribbled in black biro was a man’s name followed by Zoe’s, my best friend. There was a combination of “Mark and Zoe”, “Zoe and Mark” and my favourite, “Maroe”, creating a new name altogether.

  ‘Nothing happened I see. So this,’ I waved the paper in front of her face, ‘wouldn’t have anything to do with last night?’ I chuckled as she managed to grasp it from my clutch.

  ‘I see nothing gets past you.’

  ‘Not when it comes to someone I have known for so long. That dreamy look you’re wearing is a pretty good indicator too.’

  ‘True.’ She went back to staring at her doodling with a silly smile. ‘Oh, there’s something on your desk for you by the way.’

  I glanced across to her in confusion. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You’ve got some kind of message, well, more of a poem somewhere on your desk.’

  I shovelled through the clutter but came up with nothing.

  ‘There’s nothing here.’

  ‘Try the floor,’ she said with a half-hearted gesture.

  Still nothing, but then, lifting up my bag I found it stuck underneath. A single slip of white paper with black text written in the centre, begged to be read.

  Sitting back down with it in hand, my eyes greedily devoured the words. The further I read the more fearful I became. My head span with many unanswered questions, my heart rate increased. My teeth unconsciously bit down on my bottom lip.

  To the side of me I heard Zoe gasp, ‘God! What’s that smell? It’s exceedingly strong. Hold on…I’ve smelt it before, but where?’

  The masculine aroma of it all assaulted my nasal passage. It was overpowering. But there was more, an earthy, putrid scent that alternatively repulsed and engrossed me - had to be cigarette smoke, and something else. However, whatever it was, I found it to be indescribable. My eyes closed with the effort of prolonged concentration and my head became dizzy.

  A touch to my arm jolted me back to wakefulness. ‘Alex? You ok?’ I glanced across to see Zoe staring at me with concern. I mumbled a confirmation I was and went back to pursue the rest of the note.

  There, staring back at me, in black, bold text were the cryptic words:

  A word is nothing but a sound and a sound is nothing but a feeling.

  Looks hold more than the eye; they hold the soul and meaning.

  Every breath from a wounded person leaves room for healing.

  Xanthippe you are not, but time with me could leave you pleading.

  Brown is the colour of your hair and eyes as well as your name.

  Roaming hands is what will turn your skin to flame.

  Oh temptress, you’re the prize I am starving to claim.

  Winning will be my mission, not my game.

  Now it begins and will end with my aim.

  And that was it. No name, just the poem.

  At first it confused me. Then I was in awe of its style and creativity, but the dominant emotion was fear. Fear that whoever this person was knew my name. Fear that this person must have been in close proximity to me at some point in time to discover what I look like. Fear that this person had an aim and that aim appeared to involve me somehow. What I feared the most, however, was the subconscious sensation of knowing there was more to come.

  Chapter Three

  First I thought the letter came from Will. Though totally out of the norm, he was one for random surprises. Usually with a satisfying conclusion, but with my curiosity peaked I first needed to find out the person behind it. Picking up the phone I dialled his number.

  ‘No answer,’ I divulged. ‘I’ll just have to wait till I get home.’

  Once again the note held my attention. The words drew me in bit my bit. The more I stared the further it unsettled me. It was these unsettlements that lead me to believe it had nothing to do with William.

  ‘Alex, are you all right? You’re looking a bit pale.’

  Then out of nowhere an image appeared at the front of my mind - a hand. It was firm and decisive, male, gliding up an elegant, smooth, cream leg. A leg so delicate it could only belong to a woman.

  ‘Alex?’

  The hand was strong and sensuous. A gold signet ring decorated his pinkie finger. It symbolised everything that was dominant, powerful and important. The persistent fingers were a source of pleasure and torment. As the hand crept further up the leg so did the heat through my body, burning my flesh in its wake.

  ‘Now you’re looking a little flushed. Alex?’

  I felt myself grow weaker with every touch. Each fingerprint was a step in the right direction to submission. The heat was becoming unbearable, but before it could fire out of control I was startled from my imagination by a cold hand touching my heated skin.

  ‘Erm.’ My eyes darted back and forth, reconfirming where I was. ‘Sorry. I was miles away.’

  ‘I thought you were about to faint. I was prepared to catch you.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Just don’t do that again, you scared me.’

  ‘Promise,’ I smiled. ‘I don’t know what came over me. Sorry for the scare.’ I peered down at the innocent item carrying so many meanings. ‘I’m fine now.’

  ‘You’re sure? You’re not going to have another funny turn?’

  ‘I’m fine, no need to worry.’ She gave me a look of disbelief. ‘Come on, let’s get back to work. Don’t want to be caught slacking.’ I changed the topic to banish further thoughts of the incident from Zoe’s mind. I wish the same could have been possible for me.

  

  Ten o’clock in the evening.

  William and I were huddled up in one corner of the sofa watching television. With his comforting arm around my shoulder I decided to broach the subject of the note.

  ‘Thank you for the love letter today. Never knew you were such a romantic.’

  ‘Hmm? What’s that sweetie?’ Will turned to look down at me.

  ‘The love letter you left on my desk at work. Very romantic.’ I smiled up at him.

  A blank expression was all I got in return.

  His lack of understanding unnerved me.

  My pulse quickened.

  ‘You did leave me a note today; at work; this morning, didn’t you?’

  I desperately searched his eyes for any recognition.

  ‘Sorry love, but I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re rambling on about. The only note I know of was the one you left me asking to pick up a pint of milk. It wasn’t what I would have called romantic. More like another one of your bloody orders you like leaving…’

  Frowning, I leapt up from the sofa and made my way over to my bag.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Will, but I ignored him. Instead I reached into the bag’s depth and gripped the formidable note.

  ‘Here,’ and I shoved it into his limp, disinterested hands.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘The note.’

  But his eyes remained locked on mine. Brown orbs swimming with so many questions and something else. An emotion I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. One I’d never seen before and never wish to see again. I nervously swallowed.

  Sighing, he tore his penetrating gaze away from me and towards the centralised text.

  Watching him while he pursued each word, my mind drifted back to that emotion. The slight fear it sparked in me. In all the time I have known William, fear is a feeling I have never come across. He has never given me reason to experience it, until now.

  It was as if someone or something else took possession of his soul. For a split second he was a stranger. It wasn’t the man I loved staring back at me.

  The more he read the harsher he gripped. The paper’s edges were left disfigured.

  ‘Who gave you this?’ he growled.

  ‘I don’t know! That’s the whole point of anonymous!’

  ‘Who gave you this?’ he yelled, turning on me.

  ‘I-I do-do-don’t know.’ I took a step back.

  William is tall, but it was only at this moment his height f
elt imposing. Pure rage lit his eyes in a way that made me fear for my life. That emotion rushed through my veins.

  However, just as quickly as the stranger appeared, the man I recognised was back.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ His free hand rubbed his temples. ‘I didn’t mean to lash out at you like that. I’m just worried. Sorry.’

  Taking a tentative step towards my fiancé I replied, ‘W-worried? Worried a-about what?’

  His eyes snapped up, the softness returned. His love shined through causing my heart to sing.

  ‘Nothing,’ he finally said.

  What? ‘It has to be something otherwise you wouldn’t have reacted like that.’

  ‘It’s nothing. I didn’t mean it.’

  ‘What don’t you mean? I don’t under…’

  ‘Just drop it will you! You don’t understand because there’s nothing to get!’

  ‘But…’

  ‘No buts Alex! For once in your life leave well alone!’

  Anger bubbled to the surface as I watched his face contort with irritation, but that’s not all. In the corner of my mind anxiety developed evoking my decision to flee.

  Turning on my heel I stomped off towards the front door.

  ‘Now where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘For once in my life I’m doing as I’m told!’

  ‘I didn’t mean for you…’

  ‘It appears there’s a lot you don’t mean, so while you’re trying to figure it out, I’m going to leave you well alone!’

  ‘Alex…’ but I slammed the door before he could finish.

  Heart ramming against my ribcage I leant back against the solid oak, my rapid breathing gradually easing as the adrenaline faded.

  But it wasn’t to last.

  A huge crashing noise was heard followed by several expletives and then receding footsteps as he disappeared further into the apartment and away from the door.

  This was a side to William I never saw before. It was a side I began fear.

  Chapter Four

  I couldn’t go back, not then. Emotions were running high on both sides and if I’m being honest with myself, I was slightly terrified of what William would have done if I had.

  His eyes held a darkness I couldn’t, didn’t, want to decipher. He wasn’t the same man I had known all these years. Going back wasn’t an option, so instead I took off into the torrential rain lashing down from the night’s sky.

  I aimlessly walked the cobbled paths for hours before coming to my senses and headed for shelter. My feet ached and my body began to shiver as the soaked clothes clung to my skin like another layer.

  Turning up on Zoe’s doorstep shivering, sniffling and drained, I rang the bell with a numb finger. It wasn’t the only thing affected by the weather. My head was stuffy leaving no room to think clearly. Eyes were becoming strained from trying to see through the curtain of rain that never let up and my nose kept on dripping every five seconds. How my battered body managed to make it to Zoe’s flat instead of dropping down dead, I do not know, but I’m thankful it rose to the challenge.

  On the other side of the door I heard Zoe’s high pitch sound, a clear indication she was having an animated conversation with someone. Then her flirtatious laugh made it clear a man was present.

  ‘Stop it you!’ Zoe giggled. ‘Hold on, someone’s at the door. Keep that thought in mind,’ she replied provocatively.

  A few footsteps later, the clicking of the latch and the door flung open. There stood Zoe, phone plastered to her ear, (so no man actually physically present), and a smile ready to greet her visitor, which rapidly disappeared when she took in my appearance.

  ‘Mark, got to go, I’ll call you back,’ and before “Mark” had time to reply, he and the phone were forgotten.

  ‘Oh. My. God! What happened to you? Come in before you get a chill.’ And I was ushered into the warmth of her flat.

  ‘I think I can safely say I’ve gone past chill.’

  ‘What are you doing here? I thought you were meant to be enjoying a lovely, romantic night in with your fiancé? Never mind, you can tell me later. First we need to get some warmth back into you. Come, follow me.’

  

  The warmth of the water lapped at my body, slowly massaging heat back into my tired muscles while the fresh, fragrant passion fruit scented shampoo eased my troubled mind.

  However, it wasn’t long before my thoughts started to wander to matters of the mysterious note, specifically focusing on the possibility of who was behind it. Who could have sent such a message? Why send it in the first place? What’s the purpose behind the words?

  It had to be a man, surely. An educated man if the use of “Xanthippe” is anything to go by. I didn’t even know what it meant until I looked it up. The aromatic scents that seemed to be woven into the grains of the paper lead me believe he was a man with expensive tastes. He either had the money to afford such luxuries or imitated a man living that life. The hypnotic rhyming rhythm of the poem had me imagining hands playing a musical tune across my naked flesh, each touch hitting the right chord to produce the magical sounds he desired to hear.

  Did he have dark hair, long enough to run my fingers through causing him to beg for more and brown orbs that radiated naked desire? Or was he angelic blonde with piercing blue pools– the façade of an angel with a hunger of the devil inside – itching to escape from his chains?

  Is he tall and handsome with the physique of a Greek god and the strength of ten thousand men? Or is he short and fat with only the power of his words to torment me?

  Are his lips soft to the touch and would envelop mine in silk? Or are they coarse and chapped and would sear my tender flesh with the lightest of touches?

  Is his voice smooth, sweet and soft, like hot honey being trickled onto the burning nakedness of my stomach, as he murmurs his aim into my ear, leaving me weak and mellow inside? Or is his voice rough and scratchy from years of smoking and drinking as he whispers his desire that would leave me feeling dirty and wanton?

  Whoever he was, he had already caused too much trouble for my liking. I was used to safe and stable; it’s what I am comfortable with. However, the more I conjured up images of his possible features, the more I wanted to see them come to fruition.

  

  Hair up in a hand towel and my body wrapped in a warm, comforting dressing gown, I was about to exit the bathroom when I heard Zoe talking to someone. As I placed my ear to the door, there was a deep, rich, baritone voice that accompanied hers.

  Curiosity getting the better of me, I quietly opened the door a crack and peeped through. All I was able to see was part of Zoe’s face and the guy’s back. With the door slightly opened and the conversationalists in view, I was advantageously placed to better hear their conversation unobserved.

  ‘I’m sorry Mark, but you can’t stay tonight.’ So this was “Mark”, Zoe’s mysterious guy. ‘I have to take care of my friend.’

  ‘What friend? Male? Female?’ the implied accusation wasn’t hard to miss.

  ‘Don’t be silly, Mark,’ Zoe nervously laughed, the only indication she was afraid of this man. ‘It’s only Alex, my female best friend.’

  ‘Alex? Alex Brown?’

  ‘Yes? How do you know her name?’

  ‘Oh, well, erm, you’re always talking about her.’

  As my name passed his lips, I was overcome by an unfamiliar sensation. A sensation I wasn’t entirely comfortable with. Fear and fire coursed through my body. Simultaneously I wanted to run away and place his hand on my burning core.

  He was at least six-foot, with broad shoulders and slender but muscular legs from the looks of them encased in jeans; his arms appeared the same. Forearms toned and covered in fine hair. Strangely, my body screamed to be held by them - to be captured and explored.

  A quick glance at his head had led me to believe he had brown hair, but on closer observation, it was more dirty blonde, floppy and straight.

  ‘Yeah, she came here soaked to the bone. She’
s currently in the bathroom.’

  Mark abruptly turned in my direction. If it weren’t for my quick reactions, I would have been discovered.

  My heart thumped, bashing against the walls of my body like a caged beast. I became hot and feverish; blood rushing to my cheeks and the tips of my ears. I was burning up and the pulse at my neck grew rapid and drowned out the conversation the other side of the door.

  Once I was able to regain control of my faculties, I turned to leave the bathroom - Mark or no Mark – no unknown person could have such an effect on me, it was all in my head.

  I opened the door slightly and peeped through; no one was there. Stepping out into the hallway I heard shuffling in the kitchen. I was about to make my way into the spare room when Zoe came walking into view with two cups of steaming hot chocolate in her hands.

  ‘I thought you could do with something warm.’

  I smiled as she handed me a cup. ‘Thanks.’ It was more than warm; it burnt my tongue and scorched my throat, but none the less, perfect; just what I needed.

  ‘I heard you were talking to someone…’

  ‘That was Mark. I was on the phone to him earlier when you appeared. To be honest, I don’t know why he came round. Probably got jealous and…’

  ‘I take it he’s the same Mark you were doodling over and thought wasn’t going to get in touch again?’

  ‘One and the same.’

  ‘So, what changed?’

  ‘Nothing that I know of. He just phoned me out of the blue and later turned up while you were having a bath. But the weirdest thing happened,’ she frowned in contemplation. ‘I mentioned your name and he came over all…odd. I can’t describe how; wasn’t a major change, just odd. Then he left without a word.’ For a moment she stared off into space.

  Next minute she was back to her jovial self. ‘Bet it was nothing; just my tired mind playing tricks. Not surprising considering how late it is; nearly three in the morning. Speaking of time, what was it that brought your drenched person to my door?’