A French Kiss in London

by De Ross, Melinda

  “I intended to, but I thought I could do a better job by saving children’s lives. For now, no matter their genetic baggage, they all deserve a chance to live. And maybe this will make them better people. The ones who survive, that is,” he added, a hint of sorrow in his voice.

  They remained silent for a moment, each absorbed in their own thoughts. She was the first to reopen the conversation.

  “How did you test your miraculous treatment?” she asked, returning to the main topic. “And what kind of treatment is it?”

  Gerard linked his hands under his jaw, supporting his elbows on the table.

  “A serum and an ointment made from snake venom. It’s mainly intended to cure some types of skin cancer.”

  Her eyes widened in amazement.

  “Is that so? I thought any kind of venom is harmful, not beneficial for the human body.”

  He smiled slightly.

  “That’s what most people think. I’m a nonconformist. I want to prove that any organic substance has its uses. It’s just hard to determine the proper way it needs to be used. The Mojave rattlesnake venom has some special features, discovered by researchers who try to produce anti-venom vaccines. It contains a very powerful neurotoxin and other substances which, to put it simply, transform the affected cells into a sort of soup. True, the destruction is nonselective, and the objective is to destroy the cancerous cells. But, as an alternative to the traumatizing and invasive effects of surgery and chemo, it’s preferable to inject a well-calculated quantity of serum into a tumor. In the first phase we obviously try the ointment.”

  He shifted in his chair, then went on, “Unfortunately, it’s impossible to annihilate only the cancerous cells without affecting at least some of the healthy ones. We’ve made numerous tests in vitro and, by using other methods and meticulous calculations, we’ve determined a treatment formula. Of course,” he admitted, “it can’t be applied in all types of cancer, but for small external tumors we’ve already obtained encouraging results on two volunteers.”

  “That is spectacular!” she exclaimed, animated. “I suppose there are a lot of parents who give their consent for their children to serve as guinea pigs.”

  “Yeah…after all, their fate is pretty much sealed from the moment they’re diagnosed, so they haven’t got much to lose by trying new treatment methods. Nevertheless, our calculations are very exact and the risks are minimal for volunteers.”

  Linda sighed, resting her chin on her hands.

  “But what exactly provokes cancer?” she asked. “A virus, a bacteria, what?”

  Gerard looked at her, seeming surprised by the acute interest she manifested regarding this subject.

  “To be painfully honest, not even medical science can exactly pinpoint the cause of this disease. The most plausible hypothesis would be that, under the influence of certain factors, the growing and multiplication systems of normal cells change. In other words, the cancerous cells multiply in a chaotic, uncontrollable way. Their number increases until they form a visible tumor.”

  “I know tumors are malignant and benign, and the malignant ones are nasty, so doctors have to get rid of them. Right?”

  He gave a short laugh.

  “Something like that. Would you like to be my assistant? I could really use having you around.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m more in my element amidst pieces of wood, metal and sharp implements. Biology was never my forte and, most importantly, I don’t have the required psychological structure to work in healthcare. I get teary-eyed just by seeing sick people,” she said with forced cheerfulness. “Or did you forget the earlier demonstration?”

  He covered her hand with his, stroking it lightly with the tips of his fingers.

  “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s not shameful to have a soul. You have to be glad that society didn’t turn you too into an insensitive robot, like the ones surrounding us.”

  She didn’t withdraw her hand, but fully enjoyed the pleasant feeling seeping into her at his warm touch.

  “Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “I’m not ashamed for having weaknesses. Not really. I just wish I could hide it better, so I won’t be easily read by just anybody like an open book.”

  A corner of his sensual mouth lifted.

  “Believe me, you’re far from being an open book. When I first saw you I got the impression you’re a cool, distant dame who does charity just for publicity’s sake.”

  This statement made her jaw drop, literally. When she stared at him, he ran a hand through his short hair.

  “Damn it, I can’t believe I’ve said that.”

  He laughed chagrined and, after a moment, she joined him.

  “For such a smart man, you’re not so clever, Mr. Leon. Or didn’t you know I’ve always preferred to remain anonymous? What is known about me, is discussed only inside the clinic. At least, I thought so. But considering how informed everybody is about my personal life, I wonder how come they don’t speculate about the color of my underwear,” she joked without malice.

  Gerard widened his smile.

  “If you’d like, I’m perfectly available to check, just so there won’t be any uncertainties.”

  You have no idea how tempting it is, she thought, but asked with a dry smile, “Are you so friendly and helpful with all women?”

  “Only with the incredible ones, like you,” he answered, as his expressive eyes turned dangerously serious.

  She felt her cheeks coloring and lowered her gaze to her plate, suddenly seized by a wave of strange excitement. Realizing that both their plates and glasses were long empty, she grabbed her purse and stood, trying not to appear as though she was running away.

  “Thank you for the treat, but I’d better get going,” she said. “I’ve got some work to do.”

  “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you to your car. Just hold on a minute, while I pay our bill.”

  Outside, the sun had long gone past its zenith, but the asphalt was still very hot.

  They walked in silence the few dozen yards until they reached the clinic, where Linda had parked her car—a light-blue Mercedes Benz coupe, its top carelessly left down.

  “You should be more careful. Don’t ever leave your top down, especially when you park on the street.”

  “Oh…” She gesticulated vaguely. “There’s nothing to steal, really. Only some chisels somewhere in the glove box, but I have a few dozen more at home, of all kinds.”

  Gerard took her hands in his once again.

  “It was a real pleasure meeting you, Linda.” He held her eyes captive with his. “When will I see you again?”

  She hesitated, before answering on a neutral tone, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, here at the clinic. Now that I live in London, I’ll pass by more often. Good luck with your treatment. I’ll check on your progress.”

  He smiled, as though unaffected by her apparent indifference.

  “I’ll see you around,” he said and kissed her cheek, before she had time to dodge it.

  * * * *

  After her car was out of sight, Gerard entered the building and went straight to the room where he’d met Linda earlier. From the floor, next to the chair where she had sat, he picked up the sunglasses he’d removed himself not long ago. With a short satisfied laugh, he headed toward Carolina’s office. She was one of the nurses and occasionally also served as a secretary.

  Displaying his most seductive smile, he approached the plump, blonde woman, who resembled a bit his own mother.

  “Caro, Ms. Coriola forgot her sunglasses here. Do you by chance know her address and phone number?” he asked.

  The woman’s glowing face was turning somewhat admonishing, so he added quickly, “I know they’re confidential, don’t worry. This data is safe with me.”

  ****

  Although she owned the house for a few months, Linda’s excitement toward the rust-colored brick building hadn’t decreased in the least. The two-story house had three bedrooms and two baths. Its simple façade was si
milar to those of most nearby houses, which formed an upscale neighborhood somewhere in South London. Next to the main building there was a small, white garage and in front of it stretched a driveway guarded by old trees. The access to it was through a massive gate, old looking and elegant, like the entire setting. The only modern element was the security panel, placed on the side of the gate’s sturdy stanchion.

  Linda leaned into the dashboard and pressed a button on her remote. The ornate gate slid open fluidly. She took off her sunglasses as she drove down the lane to the house. The trees and shrubbery on each side of it filtered the light, making it look like a tunnel of vegetation.

  She pushed another button and the garage door lifted. She parked her car, then climbed out and unlocked the side-door to the house. A short hallway led to a spacious living room, with enormous windows, which revealed the panorama that had enchanted her so much—a swimming pool with sinuous, asymmetric forms, which meandered behind the house. Alongside it, numerous garden dwarves, elves and other fairytale characters held in their ceramic hands dozens of lanterns. When night fell, the combined lights lent the scenery a fairytale charm. Next to the pool was a narrow platform with several lounge chairs. Beyond all these stretched a wild-looking yard, its trees and shrubs sheltering a small gazebo, which Linda used as her workshop.

  She sprawled on the living room couch—one of the few pieces of furniture in the room—in front of a massive TV screen. Browsing through channels in search of something interesting, she called her companion. He immediately appeared from the kitchen, tail raised in welcome, and jumped on her lap purring noisily.

  “How’s it going, babe?” she asked the cat, lovingly stroking the soft white fur, immaculate except for some black spots on the front paws, which looked like cat shoes. A patch of dark fur spread around his left eye. The nearly circular dark patch gave him a prankish look and had brought him the name Pirata.

  In the three years since he’d been born, Pirata and his mistress had been inseparable. He was her most faithful friend and wisest confidant.

  The cat let out a melodious meow, to which she promptly replied, “I just came from the clinic. If it were possible, I would’ve taken you along. I’m sure you could have cheered up the children a bit.”

  She kept talking, caressing his sleek fur, while he listened carefully to her every word, watching her with slanted blue eyes.

  “I’ve met one of the doctors, a guy…well, a great guy apparently. But you know I don’t trust men much, right? Especially the ones who seem too good to be true.”

  Pirata gently rubbed his pink nose against hers, making her laugh.

  “Geez, would you look at me? I’m completely pathetic! My best friend is a cat and the funny thing is that I get the impression you truly understand what the hell I’m saying. Let’s grab something to eat.”

  Pirata jumped down promptly to lead the way to the kitchen, and she followed lazily.

  The kitchen was furnished as simply as the rest of the house. In the center stood a triangular counter, which also served as a table, and two chairs. Dishes and utensils were stacked neatly in glass-paneled cabinets. Everything was stark white and pristine.

  “Let’s see what Mrs. Adams cooked for us,” she muttered, referring to the housekeeper, whom she’d hired at the recommendation of the old couple who sold her the house. They had benefited from Mrs. Adams’s services for five years, and declared themselves fully satisfied.

  Linda inspected the fridge. She found a pot of chicken soup, something that appeared to be mushroom omelet, and pumpkin pie—her favorite dessert.

  “Yum! We’re going to eat excellent tonight!”

  She put food and water for Pirata in his zone—an area next to the kitchen door where the cat had his sleeping basket, toys and a swinging door, specially built for his access and cattish needs. Finally, she sat at the counter and ate some omelet.

  When she finished, she took a piece of pie and plopped down on the couch in the living room.

  While changing the channels, bored, she stumbled over one of the many film versions made after Paul Feval’s book, Le Bossu, a book she had especially liked in childhood. The movie wasn’t half bad, so she watched it with interest. After it ended, she noticed that darkness had fallen and her elves—actually, the photo-sensors with which they were equipped—had turned on their lanterns and were playing sublime games of light on the pool’s shiny surface. Since it had probably been one of the hottest days in London’s history, the pool seemed more alluring than ever.

  Pirata had sprawled on her lap at some point in the middle of the movie, and was sound asleep. She lowered him gently onto the sofa, receiving in exchange a small protesting meow.

  She climbed the stairs to her bedroom and undressed, leaving her clothes in her specific disordered style, discarded on the huge bed covered with blue sheets—same color as the walls. She donned a tiny, black bikini, almost new. She grabbed her cell phone and turned on the Radio App, enjoying the pop music, which perfectly suited her mood.

  She trotted downstairs and left the back door ajar behind her, as she walked to the pool. She could almost hear the water calling to her when she dropped her phone on a lounge chair. She slowly descended the stone steps, then submerged herself, savoring the prickly liquid coolness. It felt even better than sex—from what she could remember, anyway.

  Pirata, awakened by the commotion and music, had come to keep her company. He watched his mistress swimming idly, while he sprawled among the dwarves in the grass.

  After she swam several laps, a pleasant fatigue seeped into her muscles. She lay on her back in the water, let herself float and gazed at the dark sky, where no star ever seemed to show itself.

  Smog, she thought melancholically, then started to move her arms and legs to reach the pool’s side, wondering how to kill the long hours of the night to come.

  Precisely when she was getting ready to climb out, the radio stopped and the phone started ringing.

  “Who the hell is it at this hour?” she asked rhetorically, looking at the cat. He was imitating her, stretching with his belly in the air and scratching with his playful claws at the paint of a poor elf.

  Linda rushed out of the pool, quickly dried her hands on a towel and grabbed the phone. She didn’t know the number on the display.

  “Hello,” she answered, a tad too briskly.

  “Hello, Linda. It’s Gerard Leon. I’m standing in front of your gate, but I don’t know how to get in and it’s kind of difficult to climb over it. Could you open it for me?”

  For a few seconds she didn’t manage to utter a sound, even though her mouth was agape.

  “Gerard?” she blurted out eventually, not believing her ears. “What the hell are you doing here at this time of night?”

  “I’ll explain when you open. Or would you rather I climb over the gate?”

  “No, don’t touch it! It’s going to start the alarm and alert the security company. Although maybe it’s not such a bad idea,” she muttered under her breath, aggravated. “Hold on, I’ll be right there.”

  What the hell is he doing here at this hour? she asked herself once more, while she hastily wrapped a towel around herself and slid her feet into flip-flops.

  The driveway leading to the gate was quite long. With her hair and skin wet, she immediately felt the cold brought by nightfall. However, by the time she reached the gate, the cold was forgotten, replaced by hot, blazing anger. Or so she tried to tell herself as she looked at Gerard through the thick bars. She couldn’t see what he was wearing, but his features were quite distinct in the moonlight. That face was unforgettable.

  She was breathing hard when she punched in the code to disable the alarm and demanded furiously, “How do you know my address? What are you doing here?”

  Chapter Three

  Gerard couldn’t distinguish much in the deep darkness. Nevertheless, he spotted the white towel, which revealed Linda’s beautiful legs, smooth shoulders and graceful arms. In the moonlight, her skin
had a pearly glow. The water dripping from her hair rolled down her bare cleavage and was lost somewhere behind the fist that gathered the towel to her chest.

  He clutched hard at one of the gate’s bars, trying to control the incredible reactions triggered in his body and mind by this semi-nude living fantasy, toward whom he felt a magnetic attraction.

  “You forgot your sunglasses at the clinic. I took your address from the register and came to return them to you. Along with this.”

  He extended his other arm, revealing in the low light the single white rose in his hand.

  “Can I come in? I swear my intentions are as innocent as this rose,” he said jokingly.

  She appeared hesitant. But considering she was probably half-frozen by now, she pushed back the gate, then stepped aside to make room for him. He knew he was watching her with an almost tangible intensity. The glow of his eyes defied the darkness and he was helpless to tear his gaze away.

  He handed her the sunglasses and the flower. She took them with a shaky hand, murmuring, “Thanks, but you shouldn’t have bothered.”

  “It was no bother. On the contrary. I was hoping you’d invite me in for coffee. You look like you could use something hot to drink.”

  He smiled playfully, though he felt a twinge of unexpected nervousness.

  “Alright,” Linda said after a few tense moments. She pointed her chin in the direction of the house and they both headed up the winding driveway.

  He continued to watch her discretely from the corner of his eye. As the lights from the windows revealed a clearer image of the woman beside him, it was increasingly hard not to touch her. He felt an acute need to enfold her in his arms, to warm that suave skin with hot kisses. Did she feel the same attraction, or was she as cold and distant as she seemed? He would have given anything to know what she was thinking right in that moment, but she kept walking without sketching any gesture that could reflect her thoughts.

  “Do you live alone?” he asked, before he could choose to ignore the voice of reason and do something he wasn’t sure he should.