by A Rosendale
“Ready?” she asked enthusiastically. She stood and swept a robe around her own shoulders. The obscurity did nothing to quell Dirk’s sudden rise of desire.
“Are you sure about this?”
“Absolutely! I’ll just hang out at the pool until you’re done. Just meet me there. And if I don’t hear from you, I’ll meet you back here in three hours. No worries!” It was obvious she was trying to exude positivity.
In an effort to satisfy her, he smiled and nodded. It was painfully clear that the overseas experience had robbed him of confidence. Whereas the ordeal didn’t make him physically ill as it had initially, it still sickened him. He was wondering what it would take to regain some modicum of self-control and assurance when Alma motioned to a door off the hallway.
“It’s all yours!” she announced. Standing on her tiptoes, she pecked him on the cheek.
Refraining from frowning, he entered the small, steamy chamber and closed the door behind him. He was skeptical of Alma’s means of healing, but determined to please her. Mineral water lapped quietly in a dimly lit pool. Two lounge chairs rimmed the pool. Dirk hesitated, then shed his robe onto the nearest chair. Unsure what he’d do for three hours, he stepped into the pool. The hot water was slightly milder than the scalding showers he entertained at home. Three steps descended into the pool. There were lighting controls mounted within reach of the water. Dirk faded the ensconced bulbs to almost nothing and lounged back in the water with his head propped against the edge of the pool.
At first, his thoughts mulled restlessly. Then, with an effort, he turned them to the musical he and Alma had viewed the day before. Les Miserables was a powerful story made only more so by Schonberg’s music. He allowed the tunes to march through his mind and closed his eyes to reimagine the action.
* * *
“Hey!” Alma greeted. She looked up at Dirk’s robed figure standing on the side of the pool. “How’d it go?”
She sensed the relaxed slope of his shoulders. Even the creases of his eyes seemed shallower.
“Good.” He looked pointedly at the man and woman she’d been talking with.
“Dirk, this is Michelle and Michael.” She pronounced the woman’s name with the French emphasis.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said. Under normal circumstances he would have stooped to shake their hands, but he was still stiff and sore, not to mention the action would have revealed the obvious welts on his legs.
“We were just asking Alma if you’d like to join us for dinner,” Michelle added.
Dirk and Alma exchanged a glance. They’d been together nearly a year, but not quite long enough to develop the silent language of couples. They struggled, wondering at the secret desires of the other before Dirk folded and said, “Of course. We’d be glad to.”
He ignored Alma’s stare of shock.
“Excellent! Say six o’clock at the Seasons?”
They nodded and Alma exited the hot water. Dirk couldn’t help staring as water dripped from her skin, shining on her midsection and sculpted shoulders. She shrugged on a robe, didn’t bother fastening it, and strode across the patio to him. He noted other gazes with distaste, including that of Michael. Placing a firm and possessive arm around her shoulders, he kissed Alma’s cheek and accompanied her from the area.
* * *
Dirk was already dressed in slacks, dress shirt, and blazer and seated in the living room while Alma finished dressing. Gloved hands sat idly on his thighs.
“You enjoyed it?” she asked.
“Yeah, actually. I didn’t think I would. Thank you.” He hadn’t thought of the foreign man’s hands on his body at all during the three hours surrounded by mineral water and Broadway tunes. “Do you want to join me tomorrow?”
There was an audible pause from the other room.
“Really?”
“Yes,” he answered confidently.
Another silence. “Are you sure?”
He smiled, a foreign expression of late. “Yes, I’m sure. Please join me tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She finished applying earrings and stepped from the bedroom. She grinned as Dirk’s jaw dropped. A twirl of the knee length purple dress caused the skirt to swirl dramatically. Despite the amethyst earrings to match, a sapphire and diamond necklace still adorned her collar.
“You know that doesn’t match,” he teased, gaining his feet to meet her and touch the pendant.
She shrugged. “So? It’s my favorite necklace.”
He grinned and kissed her lips. “Then by all means…” He made a point of roving his gaze over her. A low grumble announced his positive appraisal.
He offered her his arm and they exited the suite.
* * *
“What do you do, Dirk?” Michelle asked after they’d ordered and passed menus to a black clothed waitress.
For some reason, the question caught him off guard and he struggled for an answer. ‘Reporter?’ he thought desperately. ‘Operative?’
Alma placed a reassuring hand on his knee and smiled pleasantly. “He’s a computer specialist for the Navy.”
With a sigh of relief, he took her hand in his gloved one and squeezed in appreciation.
“Oh! How interesting!” she exclaimed. “Alma says she works at Boston University.”
“Yes. She’s a brilliant professor. In fact, she lectured at the Smithsonian this past November.” Latching onto a topic he could discuss, he lavished praise on Alma.
“That’s incredible!” Michael remarked. “Please, enlighten us!”
Dirk didn’t appreciate the warm stare he aimed at his date, especially with his wife right there.
Alma proceeded to explain her summer study of orcas and depicted the magical moment on Puget Sound with such detail, even Dirk was fantasizing. Her explanation was interrupted by the arrival of the main course.
“What brings you to the hot springs?”
Another question that caught Dirk off guard. He assumed everyone came to resorts like this to relax. What kind of question was that? His puzzlement must have been evident because Michael motioned pointedly to the soft leather encasing his hands. It was an odd garment for the situation.
Alma struggled to come to his aid, but couldn’t think of a lie. She couldn’t even fathom the truth.
“I was in an accident recently,” Dirk answered. Lying was part of his career and the skill came back to him easily. He flexed his gloved hands tenderly. “The mineral water is easing some of my injuries.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michelle said sympathetically. She regarded the stranger for a long moment and tenderness crept into her gaze that made both Dirk and Alma uncomfortable. His appearance was initially unremarkable, but after longer study, one found rugged good looks highlighted by intelligent green eyes.
“What do you folks do?” he asked, steering the conversation another direction.
“I’m a banker,” Michelle answered.
“And I’m a lawyer.”
‘Ah,’ Dirk thought amusingly. ‘That’s why I don’t like you.’
“How long have you been married?” Alma asked.
Michelle shot a wifely challenge at her husband.
“Um, thirteen years?” he guessed, eliciting a laugh from the whole table.
“Try fourteen,” Michelle corrected humorously.
Michael snapped his fingers and shook his head. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“How long have you two been dating?” Michelle’s fork hovered above her plate while she waited for the answer.
“Nearly a year,” Dirk replied as he shot an affectionate smile at his date.
The fork dropped to her plate in astonishment. “A year? You seem like you’ve been together for years! That explains why that finger is bare.” She pointed at Alma’s left hand.
The remark unexpectedly flustered Alma.
“I haven’t gotten around to a ring yet,” Dirk said with a smile. “But Paris was pretty special, I think. In fact…” He dug in the inside pocket of the blazer
, fumbling with gloved fingers, and extracted a black velvet pouch. “I never got around to giving this to you. I remembered it while I was packing.”
Alma felt the other woman’s envious stare as she loosened the drawstring and shook a sparkling trinket into her hand. The crystal shimmered in the light and twinkled in Alma’s silvery eyes. “I love it! Thank you!” She kissed his cheek and placed the tiny sculpture on the table. Two orcas leapt playfully through crystal waves. A matted finish on the smooth material depicted the black of their bodies. “Is it Swar…” She faded in the middle of the word, fumbling for the pronunciation.
“Swarovski. Yes. I saw you admiring it on the Champs Elysees.”
“You’re so sweet!” This time, she kissed his lips. The spark of brilliant green that lightened his recently dark irises gave her a jolt of reassurance.
Michelle shot her husband a pointed glare and he shrugged.
“How did you meet?” Alma inquired after an awkward silence.
“At a benefit for disabled children in D.C.” She smiled reminiscently and replaced the glare with a loving stare. “It was love at first sight.”
Michael grinned and kissed her. “Sure was.”
Dirk was glad the man’s gaze was finally on his own wife instead of Alma.
“And you? Certainly you have a romantic tale of how Dirk swept you off your feet.”
They glanced at each other and simultaneously shook their heads.
“Not love at first sight,” Dirk confirmed. He returned to that day in the coffee shop. ‘Curiosity, maybe,’ he added to himself, seeing Alma folded into her chair, that musty copy of Dante’s Inferno open before her.
“Definitely not.” Alma had hardly cast him a second glance while he read a table away.
“Nothing so romantic as that.” He shot Michelle a reassuring smile, allowing her to keep their ‘love at first sight’ fantasy. He placed a hand on Alma’s thigh as a signal.
She folded her napkin and placed it daintily next to her clean plate. “This was delightful! Thank you for the company!”
“Yes! It was nice to get to know you.” The couple stood and hugged Alma as if they were old friends. Michelle lingered in her hug with Dirk until he stepped away to shake Michael’s hand.
“So we’ll be having Sunday tea with them once we get back to Boston?” Dirk joked as they exited the resort restaurant.
Alma laughed and threaded her hand through his arm. “Uh, no! They seemed nice at the pool, but a little creepy at dinner, huh?”
He chuckled at her description.
She kicked off her shoes while Dirk closed the suite’s door behind them. Before she could turn around, soft leather kissed her bare shoulders and a warm breath tickled the back of her neck. Although his advances surprised her, she was pleased. She leaned back into his embrace as he planted whisper-light kisses on her neck. Finally, she turned and cupped his cheek, drawing his lips to hers.
“Are you alright?” she whispered.
“Hmm,” he hummed. “Brilliant.”
She ached to trail her fingers over him as she tended to do while in his embrace, but refrained.
* * *
He curled himself around her back as she drifted off to sleep. He’d shed the gloves and bandages to allow the wounds to breathe. Sleep came easily for the first time in days.
* * *
Rough, leather-like fingers probed at his jaw. He shook his head to dislodge the groping, but the clean-shaven foreigner grabbed his jaw forcefully. The glare uttered the command his language couldn’t. Dirk’s heartbeat pounded in his ears and his skin crawled. His hands were locked above his head in a vice-like grip while the stranger’s other hand squeezed a powerful shoulder muscle approvingly before trailing down his chest to linger over pectorals chalky with dust and made taut by years of rowing.
Possessive hunger in his eyes and the way his fingers caressed his skin so much like Alma’s made Dirk sick. The man’s intentions were clear, even without muddled language barriers. He tried to struggle free, but the man’s weight prevented any movement. His efforts received a sharp slap to the face, then the palm was spread across his flat stomach.
The foreigner ignored the disgusted gazes of his hosts who stood by the door of the hut, stroking their long beards. He had eyes only for the fascinating specimen before him. His appraisal nearly complete, he touched his fingers to the pronounced ribs, lingering over an angry purple bruise. Probably a fractured bone lay below the ruptured blood vessels. He glanced up at his victim. The dull glaze in the young man’s green eyes was that of a man trying to distance himself from a horrifying experience. Grinning, he dug a knuckle into the bruised rib and watched the man return swiftly to the moment where a stranger straddled him, promising terrors to come with his vile gaze while sharp rocks dug into his raw skin. He leaned forward with the grin still in place and sent a hot, putrid breath over his captive’s face while releasing a hardly audible moan. The men standing a few feet away wouldn’t have heard it, but his victim both heard and felt it. Dirk turned his head away, stomach heaving.
Dirk shoved himself away from Alma in sudden self-loathing as he shot awake. He stumbled through the dark hotel room to the bathroom, shut the door, and vomited. Even a scalding shower did nothing to erase the feel of those stout fingers. Pressing both palms on the glass wall, he let the water beat over his head and back. It poured over his body in steaming sheets, burning the tender welts and cuts. Although pain made the memories all the more real, it also served as an effective distraction.
When he could take it no more, he shut off the water, dried himself, and returned to the dark bedroom to dress in comfortable jogging pants and a loose T-shirt. Then he retired to the living room, sure to close the door silently, and splashed a healthy amount of whiskey from a crystal decanter into a plastic hotel cup.
* * *
“Dirk?” Alma muttered groggily. She rubbed her eyes as she entered the living room in the bright morning sunlight.
Dirk was sleeping upright on the couch, his feet propped on the glass coffee table and an empty plastic cup in hand. Curious and concerned, she took the cup and sniffed. Overwhelming whiskey fumes burned her nostrils and she took an involuntary step back.
‘Just when I thought he was getting better,’ she thought dejectedly.
Leaving him to sleep it off, she went to shower.
* * *
“You’re sure about this?” Alma asked yet again. She hesitated outside the private spa.
Dirk nodded tiredly and drew her in. His hands were bare and she could see the angry red lines of torn flesh on the palms.
It wasn’t until Alma was in the pool that Dirk dimmed the lights slightly and shed his robe. He could feel her watching, but her warm, concerned gaze didn’t produce the same nauseating effect as the gaze from his nightmares.
She bit her lip to keep from gasping at the marks that scored his bareback. She could tell they were healing by the pale pink outline, but the injuries looked excruciating. Not for the first time, she wracked her brain for what could have possibly caused the damage. Trailing her sight down his back and past the swim trunks, she took in the same painful lashes on the backs of his legs.
When he finally gathered enough courage to meet Alma’s eyes, he turned around.
‘Oh, Dirk,’ she moaned to herself, recognizing that he wouldn’t appreciate the sympathy. Bruises mottled his smooth skin especially on his lower right ribs and the angry red lines continued on the front of his legs.
Tentatively, he stepped into the water. He wished it were hotter, even when the piping liquid burned the lowest of the welts on his shin. Lowering into the water with a hiss, he settled on the opposite side of the tub than Alma and dropped his chin to avoid meeting her stormy gray eyes.
It was several minutes of tense silence before the water rippled and she moved across the pool. Even then, inches away, she hesitated to touch him. She imagined every inch of skin was raw with pain. He resisted the urge to draw his knees to his che
st, a childish posture of insecurity. He was staring at the hazy water between them when he saw her slender hand pass beneath the surface and a gentle finger raised his chin.
Her expression roiled with an incomprehensible infusion of emotion, but even when she didn’t know what to say or think, her entire being exuded one certainty and for that Dirk was eternally grateful.
“God, I love you,” he whispered. His voice cracked with emotion.
“I love you, too.” Her voice was even quieter than his, her eyes shifted constantly, trying to decipher the secrets behind his jade eyes.
He pulled her into his arms. When she hesitated to return the hug, he gently guided her arms around him. She found smooth, undamaged skin over which to place her hands and squeezed him tight. The embrace lasted a long while. By the time they separated, a visible weight had lifted from his shoulders.
Alma settled next to him. He took her hand underwater and she could feel the raised burn across his palm. She opened her mouth to speak.
“You know,” his voice echoed in the small room, “I have to say I appreciate your confidence.” His head was back against the edge of the pool and his eyes were closed. He didn’t see her frown.
She’d just been about to ask what caused all those injuries. Now he was saying thank you for not prying. She chose not to reply. Copying his posture, she tried to relax and ease the weight on her chest.
“This explains the scar cream Christian gave me the other day.” She cracked an eyelid to see his brow rise, but he didn’t open his eyes. “He came by while you were asleep and said it would come in handy. He was very cryptic. Actually, he always is.”
Dirk smiled at her observation.
“How long have you been friends?”
“Since I moved back to Boston.”
“Back to Boston?”
“Yeah. After college I moved out of the city.”
“I didn’t know that. Where did you live?” She watched him in the dim, steamy light. He settled deeper in the water, eyes closed and fingers entwined with hers.