Devil's Touch

by Tina Lindegaard

  The woman in his office coughs discretely, but the sound is drowned by the noise from the wind and the crackling fireplace.

  He's still not sure how long he stayed in the chair looking at Denize, but he had finally managed to get up and take his wife's hand. Her skin felt as soft as usual, but it was cold. Not cold as when she had been sitting in a draft and her skin was chilly. But cold with a finality that told him it would never be warm again. The word ”final” had returned to his thoughts over and over again. He had looked down at the hand he had held so many times, but if felt different. Maybe the skin felt a little drier. He had put her hand down gently and had left the room.

  "Are you OK?"

  She's standing next to him. He looks at her as if from far away as he leans against the massive oak desk.

  The dark eyes, the blonde strands of hair that fall over her porcelain-like skin are suddenly the most beautiful things he has ever seen. This surprises him and he strongly feels that it is wrong. He lets his eyes rest in hers, ”there’s something familiar about her...” The moment becomes uncomfortable because she doesn’t break their eye contact either.

  "Oh, I think we have met before."

  She speaks the words slowly as if she has read his mind. She looks closely at his face.

  "Yes, we have. It was at one of Stuart's parties - at the marina."

  Her voice fades and then she nods.

  "Yes, now I'm sure. We’ve met before."

  Nathan can’t hide his surprise, and gives up trying when she smiles slightly.

  "Really? I'm usually good at remembering names and faces. Are you sure?"

  "Oh, yes."

  She smiles.

  "But I don't think we were introduced."

  She looks closely at his face. It has changed. Back then, the lines in his face had not been prominent even though he was close to sixty. His body had seemed fit and she had thought that he was close to the ideal of a man his age. She smiles again with regret. Now his lines are deep. The skin had been very tanned back then, probably from all the hours spent on the golf course, but now his skin is coarse and grey and his body seems smaller.

  "Happy birthday!"

  Her voice is cheerful. Nathan's body slowly seems to straighten itself.

  "I read an article the other day in connection with your birthday. It's not every day a practicing lawyer turns 64."

  He nods and smiles wryly. In a glimpse she recognizes the look he gives her. A look she has met so many times before - measured and appraising - like being categorized and psychoanalyzed in one short moment. Once the judgment is made, she has never yet been able to change their mind about her.

  "Thank you."

  Nathan's voice is polite and so is his gaze now. She remembers that Stuart had pointed him out as a potential customer, but she had given up trying. Nathan had stayed close to his wife all the time. Not long after, she had read in the magazines about her death and wondered about it. She had found the articles short and trivial. Stuart had tried to force her into contacting Nathan. Stuart had kept on pressuring her, and she had thought about it for a while. In the end, she had slammed the door in his face with a clear no. The discussion didn’t end there, but she had never tried to contact Nathan. Six months after his wife's death, she had been invited to a party, and she had seen Nathan pass in front of her car. His entire posture had changed, and she had felt a deep sympathy for him, and also an intense physical discomfort at the thought of how cunning Stuart really was. She had felt more trapped than ever, and that feeling has never left her. With a trembling voice, she had asked the driver to take her home, but he had refused, and she had looked at him for a long time. As usual, he had tried to give her a small bag with something white in it. It was so quiet in the car that she could hear the fountain and the muffled voices outside. She had shaken her head and let herself fall back in the leather seat.

  "You have to get out. I'm not driving away with you in the car. "

  She had stared into his eyes, focused on her breathing, and then she had nodded slowly, slid over to the other door and gotten out. She hadn't turned toward the other guests, but had seized hold of the arm of the young man waiting to park the next car.

  "How do I get out of here without being seen?"

  She felt his body freeze, before he suddenly understood.

  "This way."

  He had gently followed her round the back of the house and over to his car.

  "The garden is huge. Wait here for an hour until I finish. I'll drive you home."

  She had looked at him for a long time.

  "You'll have to decide now. I have to get back. I need the money. You can trust me or not."

  She could practically hear the rust when he opened the door of the dark blue car.

  "Just wait. I'll be back."

  Nervously, she had gathered her dress around her and gotten in to the car. The hour had seemed endless. Several times, she had to put her head back, so the tears didn't run down her cheeks and spoil her make up. ”Trapped like an animal in a cage.” That sentence had repeated itself in her head over and over until the young man came back and took her home. He didn't ask any questions and didn't ask for money. He had been polite and silent, and this made Evy feel a strange kind of sympathy for him.

  Nathan examines her face, and then shakes his head and smiles cordially before dismissing her words.

  "I'm sorry, but I don't remember you."

  "That's OK, there was a lot of people there."

  "Hmm, I was actually surprised that Stuart hadn't invited more people that day. It was so unlike him - his parties were usually rather flamboyant. Something to talk about later."

  ”A cage with golden bars made of discretion.” Evy bites her teeth to break her train of thought. Nathan's eyes suddenly fill with a form of intensity and curiosity that she hasn't seen before.

  "In all discretion, now that Stuart isn't among us anymore. He usually invited some, what should I call them, very friendly women in case any of us gentlemen got bored during the evening.

  Nathan's eyes rest on Evy, but he doesn't get the kind of reaction he had hoped for. Not even a twitch. Nothing. His smile vanishes, and he's serious again.

  "I'm sorry, that was inappropriate. After all, Stuart isn't here anymore and I don't know your relation to him."

  Nathan's voice is void of emotion. She raises her hand as if to fend him off.

  "Many people in society haven't come to terms with the fact that these things happen."

  Nathan looks at her again, but her face is unchanged.

  "Yes, it happens more often than you would think."

  "Yes, I've always wondered how Stuart got in touch with these women. They were always beautiful, classy, discrete, some of them almost invisible until Stuart pointed them out. An affair with one of these women could go on for years, even forever, without anyone finding out."

  He carefully watches her face. Only the sound from the fireplace fills the room. The sound of resin exploding in one of the logs makes Evy twitch. Nathan turns and now stands so close to her that his arm is almost touching her breasts. He's smiling. As he watches the fire, his smile slowly fades and he's thankful for his years in the courtroom.

  "I’ve always wondered how Stuart chose these women. He rarely did anything without a reason."

  He turns to face her, and feels the heat from the fire against his back. The light from the fire grows stronger when another log catches fire.

  "It's nice to have a fireplace."

  Nathan nods in the direction of the fireplace. Evy’s stomach turns when her carefully controlled thoughts are interrupted by the realization that Nathan might be lying. He looks at her as if he’s trying to figure out what she's thinking. Then he sits down in the armchair behind his desk. With a touch of arrogance, he nods at the chair on the other side.

  "How did you know Stuart?"

  She doesn't answer him. Instead she takes her time getting comfortable in the chair before finally crossing her legs and
looking at him.

  "We usually met over lunch."

  "There was a big age difference."

  He notices how her upper body relaxes and how she slowly tips her head to one side.

  "Yes, but we had a lot in common. Otherwise we wouldn't have kept on seeing each other for so many years."

  "Four or five years, wasn't it?"

  She leans back in the chair, looking relaxed in the uncomfortable chair.

  "Yes, I think he mentioned something when he turned sixty."

  Evy's body is suddenly tense, ”and now your memory has suddenly returned.” She looks at Nathan's hands and then at his face.

  "That sounds about right."

  It's as if the grey color in his face has gone and he's glowing. She begins to suspect that he still spends time on the golf course.

  "How old are you now? 24?"

  She blinks a few times before bending down to pick up her bag. Her head is tilted to one side again.

  "Close. 25."

  He can feel himself squint a little and stops the movement. ”Don't give anything away. Don't give anything away. That has always served me well.”

  "What do you do for a living, Evy? I can't remember if Stuart told me. It's been a while after all."

  He makes a gesture of apology.

  "I'm getting older, you know."

  His voice sounds cheerful, but Evy has a strong feeling that he wants a particular reaction from her, and her temper rises. She forces herself to smile and runs her hand through her hair, pushing it to one side, so her neck is exposed. Nathan swallows and his eyes trace the red patent leather from her waist to her shoulder to her neck. He swiftly runs his hand over his lips.

  "I run a small business."

  Her voice is calm, and she's back in control. She knows that Nathan will follow her every move, and she feels a vague discomfort mixed with a feeling of power. She's suddenly disappointed in him. The brilliant lawyer reacts just as every other man she has tried this on. She had believed, even hoped, to someday meet someone who was different. She moves her head a little - exposing her neck even more. Nathan's reaction doesn't fail. He gets up abruptly and stands with his back to her. She bites her lip - disappointment showing in her face. A low sound is heard.

  "Nathan, shall I bring in some coffee before I leave?"

  He looks annoyed, breathes out and lets his head fall toward his chest a little. He wets his lips, feeling how her mental hold on him gradually weakens.

  "Yes please, Petra. Just put it on the table here."

  He nods at the desk between them. Without any eye contact, they both watch as Petra puts down the coffee tray.

  "Coffee?"

  Petra kindly asks Evy, who shakes her head, looking confused. Petra then focuses her attention on Nathan. She can hear how annoyed he is.

  "I won't be having any coffee for a while."

  He raises an eyebrow as he answers her.

  "Thank you, Petra."

  He nods politely, well aware that he won't. The stomach ache he has had since lunch still bothers him. His voice is no more than a whisper and he sounds aggravated.

  "Petra, will you bring me some painkillers before you go?"

  Petra looks at him and lowers her voice.

  "Of course. The usual ones?"

  He nods, looking pensively at Evy. The sound of the door brushing the carpet, a faint clicking sound. He smiles - these are sounds he associates with the level of quality he has worked so hard to obtain when renovating his office.

  "Nathan."

  Evy speaks slowly, almost tasting the word. She rounds her lips and presses them against each other as if she has just put on lipstick.

  "Nice name. Very nice."

  He looks at her, ”No, I'm not falling for that twice.” He smiles politely.

  "Evy, I asked you to come because Stuart left you some money. I don't know what you meant to him even though we have been friends for almost twenty years. In any case, he has left you some money - enough money, in fact, to give you a comfortable life if you are careful. As I mentioned earlier, he has asked me to make sure you get the money fast before his family starts asking questions - preferably without them knowing anything about it, actually. This is hard for me because I’ve known them for so long, and it's a personal loss for me as well. I'm surprised that you..."

  Nathan stops and looks at the fire. Then he draws himself up a little and looks directly at her.

  "If you give me your account number, I’ll make sure you have the money tomorrow."

  "Now?"

  She sounds surprised.

  "That would be nice. Then we'll start the payments tomorrow morning when Petra is here. I'm not quite sure why he wanted to make a fund with the sole purpose of paying installments to you. It's a strange purpose, since you'll never be able to get the money except in portions. Allow me."

  He opens a drawer and takes out a small, yellow notepad. He runs his fingers over the paper and walks over to her side of the desk. He hands her the notepad and pulls out a fountain pen from his inside pocket. He carefully unscrews the top before handing it to her. She looks at him while she slowly opens her bag. Finally she breaks eye contact, looks into the bag and takes out her credit card. He leans back against the desk and follows her movements as she writes. She looks at the account number for a long time before looking back up at him - this time her eyes seem to reveal everything.

  "Are there any similar arrangements? If I can call them that."

  Nathan has only been this surprised once before in his life, when he found out during the trial that his client had in fact killed not only his father, but also his mother, who had died the year before. Nathan remembers a strong feeling of hate - like someone had hit him in the stomach - and he had difficulty breathing for the rest of the cross examining. He rubs his nose. Hate changes to a feeling of surprise that is just as strong as the hate had been.

  "You’re the only one mentioned in the will. It says that you are his regular physiotherapist."

  He pulls out an envelope from the brown cardboard case file on the desk.

  "He left you this letter."

  He hands it to her. Slowly she puts the yellow notepad and the fountain pen on the desk and reaches out to take the envelope. Her feeling of discomfort increases as she looks at it. The envelope is the usual quality: thick, inflexible textured paper.

  "May I?"

  She looks at the shiny and heavy silver paper knife on the table before him. Nathan nods.

  "Yes, of course."

  He gives it to her with the handle first. She stands up a little, and her bag falls to the floor when she grabs the handle. He feels a sudden pain in the palm of his hand.

  "I'm sorry."

  He hardly hears her voice but nods, accepting the apology. There’s a little blood in the palm of his hand, so he pulls out his handkerchief. He wonders why Evy isn't looking at his hand, but only stares at the envelope.

  "I..."

  He stops when he realizes that he has no idea what she's thinking. He folds up his handkerchief and puts it back in his pocket. Her eyes scan the surface of the envelope over and over again as if every little details matters. Nathan recognizes the quality of the paper. He used to get letters like this - letters that Petra wasn't allowed to open. Evy touches the surface of the paper. She clearly remembers the first time he gave her money. Back then, she had taken out the letter many times and held it up to the light to enjoy the watermark. The words had been the same every time.

  No one is like you when the night is long, your body, the way you.....

  After a very long time, Stuart pulls away from her and looks at her face.

  "How much longer?"

  Stuart's voice is demanding, and he doesn't let go of Evy's chin until the driver nods and speeds up.

  "Let's start with some champagne."

  Stuart smiles at her as he bends down to get the champagne from the hidden fridge. Evy tries to move over, but Stuart's hand is resting on her thigh. He takes
two glasses with the same hand that’s holding the champagne bottle and leans back in the seat. Evy feels the sweat from his hand on her thigh before he removes it and puts it behind her neck. He forces her closer to him and kisses her again. Suddenly he pulls away and falls back in the seat.

  "Time for champagne."

  His voice is cheerful now, and he quickly loosens the yellow wrapping around the bottle neck. Then the sound of the cork popping fills the car. When the cork hits the roof of the car, the driver looks back in the rear-view mirror, but Stuart pays no attention to him. The champagne runs down over Evy's thighs and down in the leather seat under her. The champagne penetrates her dress, but before she can move, she feels Stuart's mouth against her thigh - his whisper filling her head.

  "No need for a glass."

  "We're here."

  The limo slows down and pulls over to the curb in a brightly lit street. Stuart hesitates, and then he sits back in the seat and stares at the driver.

  "Sometimes it's just faster. The traffic wasn't so bad..."

  The driver turns around halfway and lowers his voice.

  "Do you want me to drive around the block?"

  Nathan sees how the hand that holds the letter is shaking. He looks at her silently, while his mind goes over the last few years of his life and the role Stuart has played in them. Some events seem strange but not significant in any way. Evy sighs a little, but Nathan doesn't notice. She lets the knife slide through the paper and feels the familiar resistance from the thick paper. She slowly unfolds the letter and reads.

  No one is like you when the night is long, your body, the way you.....