by Helen Karol
Claire rode up in the elevator with the others as far as the tenth floor. She found the suite easily enough. It was rather magnificent, it was even equipped with a bar; Andrea would be delighted. There was a door on either side of the room; one closed, the other ajar.
Claire entered the latter and flicked on the light switch; it was obliviously unoccupied. She noticed something on the dresser and walked over to it. It was a key card, probably to the bedroom door, beside it lay a large single gardenia with a small card.
I thought this would nestle perfectly in the pale gold of your hair. Julian.
She drew the bloom to her face and inhaled it's delicate fragrance. He had given her corsages before when they attended functions together, but she had accepted them as a natural courtesy. This, she knew, held a special significance.
A knock on the outer door disturbed her mood; it was the bellman with her luggage. After he left, she laid out the dress she planned to wear for the evening on the bed, before entering the adjoining bathroom to shower.
Half an hour later she stood in front of the mirror, trying various ways of wearing the gardenia in her hair. Finally, she brought her hair back in a soft bun at her nape, placing the fragrant flower to the left side of the golden oval so that it nestled between it and the smooth back of her head. Stepping back, she looked in the mirror. The flower was barely visible and as she turned her head this way and that, tantalising views of it appeared.
Completely satisfied, she smiled at her reflection. Her dress was a cream silk overlaid with shimmering organza. The skirt consisted of a number of tiers of tiny frills angling down to rest some inches above her knees, covering just enough of her shapely thighs to retain modesty. The bodice was completely plain with a small low scoop neckline. It was held together by three tiny bows on either shoulder.
She found she was wearing Julian's designs more and more; almost a quarter of her wardrobe consisted of them now. But all of them were from his ready to wear lines - this little beauty was a West original. It had cost her over four month’s salary, but she had been unable to resist it. Donning a pair of diamond earrings, her only memento of her mother, she left the suite and took the elevator down to the main floor.
The casino was crowded with an assortment of people. All around were the sounds of cards, rolling dice and the ever-insistent jingle of the slot machines. The type of dress varied. Most of the women wore evening clothes, although they ranged in formality. The men were more casually attired. No jeans, but many wore short sleeved shirts and slacks, others were in sports jackets, some wore lightweight suits, very few wore ties.
In the far corner, on a large raised dais, above the rest of the gamblers, sat the baccarat tables. There were only two of them and only men sat at them. All wore tuxedos.
Julian sat at the first table, facing the casino entrance. A stunning redhead stood beside him. She wore a slinky evening gown and a white fur wrap draped carelessly around her. The cocktail waitress came around dispensing complimentary drinks. The redhead took one and offered it to Julian. He looked up and took it, absently.
Just then a group of people walked by and Claire had to step into the shadows to allow them passage. She was hidden from view, but she could still see Julian. He glanced at his watch and then gazed searchingly into the crowd.
He sat back and threw a few chips to the dealer, then, rising from the table, he turned to leave. The woman at his side pressed provocatively against him, her hand on his arm, as if she would detain him. But after a few words, she allowed him to leave, if somewhat reluctantly.
Claire watched him wander around from table to table, his eyes returning to the entrance every so often. He stood out in the crowd, once away from the select baccarat tables, dressed as he was. But Claire knew that for her he would have stood out no matter how he was dressed.
The feeling came upon her suddenly it seemed, but she knew it had been growing in her, slowly, for months, perhaps years, only to come to bloom at this moment. She wanted to step out, take him by the hand, and tell him of her new-found knowledge. But she couldn't, not with the emotion blazing nakedly in her eyes for all to see, as she knew it must be. It was too new, too precious to share with anyone but him.
In the end he saw her standing, immobilised, in the shadows. Her heart quickened as a tender smile lit his face. He moved towards her until together they were swallowed by the shadows. He took her chin and turned her head and his smile deepened as he saw what he was looking for. He spoke of his pleasure at seeing her wear it and of his admiration for how she looked in the lovely dress. She tried to speak, but the words would not come. Finally, he asked her where she would like to go and the words flowed of their own accord.
"I don't care, Julian, as long as it's with you."
He drew her close to his side and led her through the crowd to the elevator. She moved closer to him, rubbing her cheek against his jacket, her hand on his chest. Neither spoke in the elevator and once inside the suite, they simply stood in one another's arms. Claire broke the silence with a soft whisper.
"I love you."
Julian touched her cheek, his fingers trailing across her lips. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips into her palm. And then he said the words Claire wanted to hear. His head bent and their lips met. As his lips moved gently over her own, and his tongue teased her, Claire felt the familiar stirrings of soft, sweet desire.
He lifted his head and Claire felt bereft. Never taking his eyes from her own, he walked backwards and sat against a small table which stood by the wall, drawing her with him until she stood between his legs, resting against one knee. He cupped her face and brought her lips once more to his own.
She returned his kiss, her tongue gently probing. Their lips left one another to move across eyes, cheeks and to the hidden spot behind the ears. Julian trailed kisses along her throat and into the hollow of her shoulder. Claire entwined her fingers in his thick, luxuriant hair, drawing him ever closer. His mouth moved to the bows at one shoulder, his teeth releasing them one by one. The fabric performed beautifully, the whole one side of the bodice floating down around her waist to reveal the soft creamy flesh beneath.
His mouth returned to her own and his hand cupped her breast, eliciting a small moan from her captive lips. And then his mouth was where his hand had been and his hand was caressing her silken-clad thigh. From within, Claire felt the spreading of that slow, gentle fire.
Suddenly, she no longer felt his seductive touch, instead his hands were at her shoulder refastening the bows.
"But ... "
His mouth stilled her protest and then they were both standing. He took her hand and made for the door. Claire was confused, still dazed by their lovemaking.
"I don't understand."
Julian turned and smiled at her - a slow, secret smile.
"You will."
He kissed the tip of her nose and led her out towards the elevator.
Just over an hour later, a slightly boisterous group stood outside the suite on the tenth floor.
"There's no one in there, Andrea. I told you I saw them leave the hotel a while ago."
"Are you sure, oh dear, where will we go now?"
There was definite disappointment in Andrea's face and there was hardly a member of the group who didn't share her feelings - they were a party with nowhere to happen. Andrea's face brightened as something occurred to her. She turned and spoke to Julian's secretary.
"Delia, Julian had a business meeting here, I'm sure he must have given you a key in case you had to collect something for him."
Delia looked uncertain. "Well, yes, but I don't think… I mean, this is hardly business."
"Now don't you worry, I'll handle Julian. After all, I told Claire to expect us. Something must have held them up and they'll be here shortly. They would hardly expect us to stand out here in the hall waiting for them when you have a key. Be a good girl and open the door."
Andrea genuinely believed this, as such would be her sentiments. Her go
od nature tended to attribute her own virtues to others. Especially when it was someone she liked, and especially when she was a little, only a very little, tipsy. Delia looked a little doubtful and then opened the door, after all, Andrea was a family friend. Without more ado the group poured in.
By the time Julian and Claire walked up the hallway, twenty minutes later, the sound of a party in full swing greeted them through the slightly opened door of their suite. As they entered and caught sight of their 'guests' Julian groaned.
"Claire, did you know about this?"
"Yes, Andrea mentioned it, but I completely forgot."
She looked around at the people who had not yet noticed them. Every face was known to her and, with the exception of Stella, either she or Julian could call them friend. It wasn't that bad really, in fact; under the circumstances it seemed rather appropriate. The softening of Julian's features told her he had followed her thoughts and agreed with them. At that moment, Andrea noticed them.
"Julian, Claire, there you are. Now, Julian, you've not to be annoyed with Delia. I told her you wouldn't mind."
Julian walked to the centre of the room, bringing Claire with him. "As it turns out, I don't, this time. Stephen there's some champagne in the fridge, hand me a bottle and open one yourself."
Andrea was a little surprised. "Champagne? Julian, you don't usually drink champagne."
The cork popped and Julian answered as he filled glasses.
"That's because I don't usually have such a good reason to celebrate," he was almost boyish in his good humour.
"Reason to celebrate? What are you talking about?"
He gave Andrea a mysterious smile and turning Claire towards him, announced. "I want you all to congratulate us. Claire and I have just been married."
Claire watched Julian from across the room as he closed the door on Andrea's disappearing back. Only moments before the older women stood at the open door, the last to leave the room.
"I'm so happy," she had been primarily addressing Julian who stood beside her, but her gaze had moved to encompass Claire on the other side of the room. "For you both."
She had left then and now Julian and Claire were alone.
After Julian made his announcement the others crowded in on them, congratulating them, delighted by the romantic turn of events. Claire accepted their good wishes laughingly, her spirits elated. When one or two of her friends remarked on the suddenness of the marriage, she brushed aside their comments, citing the length of her and Julian's relationship. They agreed, remarking that no doubt it was about time.
Yes, Claire had thought, to everything there is a time and this was their time - hers and Julian's. She thought back over the years they had known one another - the years of companionship. Even when the miles parted them she knew he was there and it was to him she returned. The past few months had been leading to something. Hours ago, in the shadows of the casino floor, she discovered what.
When Julian led her to the small chapel, she stopped questioning him. He said she would understand and she did. To marry him, to make a commitment, seemed, so very natural, so very right. Her voice was firm and clear as they exchanged their vows.
Surrounded by well-wishing friends, she looked across at the man who was now her husband. Similarly surrounded, his attention was caught by the others, and she could watch him unobserved. He seemed to her so familiar and yet so new. She noticed the strength of his shoulders under the formal jacket, his clear-cut features, his strong jaw. She saw the way his lashes cloaked his eyes, casting shadows on the skin below. She heard the sound of his voice, it's low full tones and his laughter, deep, pleasant and so sensuous.
Julian looked across at her then and their eyes met, and Claire knew she wanted to know him, know every part of him, in the way only lovers can.
The others saw the look and following one after the other they began to leave. Now, the door was closed and there was only the two of them.
Julian turned, his hand still on the doorknob, his other hand moved upwards loosening his cravat and the confining button at his throat. As his hand left the doorknob and he walked towards her, Claire swallowed and picking up some glasses turned away from him towards the bar. Placing the glasses on the marble top, she wondered what was the matter with her.
Moments earlier, while the others were still here, she signalled him an unmistakable message. Yet now here she was shying away from him like a nervous filly. Why, bridal jitters? She stifled a giggle, the incongruity of the phrase seeming to come from another century.
But some things are elemental and do not change with time. As she heard him behind her and his warm breath fanned the back of her neck, faint shivers of apprehension flowed through her. She felt his fingers at her hair removing the gardenia, and a brief pause told her he had held it to inhale it's fragrance before laying it on the bar. His fingers returned to her hair freeing it from its coil. He buried his face in it and then pushed aside it's silken heaviness to trail feather light kisses on her exposed nape. She felt his head lift and his breathing deepened becoming less regular.
With a swiftness that made her gasp, she was turned towards him and crushed in an embrace which threatened to force the very breath from her body. All feelings of apprehension were swept from her as she felt her passion ignite with his. His hand gripped her hair at the back of her head and his lips plundered hers with a hunger that thrilled her.
Then, as quickly as it had come, his passion was replaced by a quiet tenderness. His kisses gentle and seductive, his hands caressing her body slowly and lightly. Claire felt only a brief longing for the loss of his fierceness before she felt the dawning of the slow fire his gentleness always aroused.
Slowly, she undid the buttons of his shirt, running her fingers provocatively across his bare chest. His hands stopped their arousal and with his lips still teasing her own, he undid the bows of her dress, releasing both sides in unison. They parted, allowing the fabric to fall, and then they were together, warm flesh against warm flesh, the gentle abrasiveness of his skin and the tickling of his chest hair bringing her nipples to a state of arousal. Tenderly, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her towards the bedroom, as if she were as fragile as the single bloom that lay forgotten upon the bar.
The bedroom was illuminated with moonlight, casting shadows here and there around the room. Julian lowered her to the bed and his head darkened all sight, as he kissed her once more. Then his hands dealt deftly with her dress and then his jacket and shirt. He alternated with first one of her garments and then one of his own, until their clothes lay intermingled upon the floor, echoing their own intertwining upon the bed.
With lips and hands they explored one another, whispering endearments and professions of love. Claire knew Julian controlled their lovemaking as carefully as he had controlled their courtship, but for the moment, she rejoiced in his control, because she knew that in the end it brought them both to a sweet fulfilment. Later, when she slept it was with the deep, easy sleep of the untroubled.
Julian lay beside her, his arms behind his head, a feeling of deep contentment washing over him. Claire murmured in her sleep and snuggled closer to him. Removing one arm from its resting place, he encircled her and drew her close. Turning slightly he gazed at her cool, pristine beauty, her hair almost silver in the moonlight.
A faint frown disturbed his features. He had been unprepared for that swift passion that almost overwhelmed him as they stood in the outer room. But unexpected as it was, he managed to bank it; to thrust it back into the recesses of himself where he felt it belonged. Why he felt it belonged there seemed immaterial. Their love, his and Claire's, had been sweetly consummated, so he saw no reason to analyze further.
The frown disappeared. Julian was content.
His growing successful business, his familiar circle of friends, his love for Claire. These were all things he could understand and control, or so at this time it seemed to him. Settling down in the bed, he joined Claire in her untroubled sleep.
The week that followed would always exist in Claire's memory as faintly dreamlike infused with almost magical qualities. Julian had planned for their wedding and he made sure that if his plans came to their present happy conclusion his business would survive without his presence for the week.
A few words with Stella the next morning and Claire was reassured that the magazine could spare her for the next five working days. Had anyone asked Claire how she spent her honeymoon, apart from the obvious; she would have been unable to tell them. She knew she was in Las Vegas and she knew she was with Julian.
When they didn't order room service, they ate in quiet intimate restaurants and snuggled in the corners of darkened bars. They saw a couple of shows and spent an evening or two at the casino. Julian had stood with Claire as she played the fast-moving game of craps, delighted by the sparkle in her eyes brought out by the excitement of the game.
Lounging against the table, a possessively indulgent light in his eyes, he watched her shake the dice in both hands and after a blow for luck send them hurtling down the green baize of the table to crash against the other end and roll perfectly into the hard-eight everyone had been calling for. He had stiffened once when someone placed the unpopular and often thought to be jinxed bet of 'Don't Pass', but had relaxed with a proud smile when her next roll revealed the five she had been waiting for, and not the seven which would have broken her winning streak.
The next night Claire had stood beside Julian at the baccarat table. Her stance, had she known it, was similar to that of the stunning redhead who stood beside him on the night of Claire's arrival. But this night, it was not his companion Julian gazed at absently, but the card game.
Many an eye was turned towards the striking couple as they whispered endearments to one another, her golden head bent to his dark one. When Julian left the game, unperturbed that he had lost a small fortune, his arm encircling Claire's waist, few around them were able to suppress a knowing smile.