Virginity Despoiled

by Charles Brett

From the conversation Oleg learnt that Kjersti had requested Helga, supported by Freja and Andrei, to note the times when she left and he left. They had indeed been at the roof terrace bar, but not admiring the sunset, at least not until they had seen him pursuing Kjersti.

  It couldn't have been worse. Caught in the act. But what wounded him more was the scale of his defeat. He had not managed to catch up with her, never mind overtake for even a few metres. That might have soothed his pride a little. Instead, at best, he'd been about 100 metres behind and closing when she started the longest four-hundred-metre climb. What a killer! By the time he reached the top she'd disappeared. From here on the most he saw was her gold and yellow running kit, in the not-so-near and then ever further distance.

  He'd thought he could make up the gap on the flat road back from Albir. He'd pushed and pushed himself. Yet, when rounding the final corner, there she was, relaxing on his hotel steps chatting to the doorman.

  Oleg arrived and pretended to be a good loser. Kjersti ignored this with her accusations and proof about his premature departure. The one faint positive was she'd not forgotten their bet. He might yet have a chance to redeem himself.

  He'd accepted icy instructions. He was to appear at her hotel in an hour during which time she would arrange where they would go for dinner for which he would pay. He had no other choice but to agree. He prayed she was not into Chinese or, even worse, Indian food. He disliked the first and feared the second. His one visit to Delhi had convinced him the reason Indians used spices was to hide how the food had already rotted.

  She'd left for her hotel. He cleaned up and changed. Mortification pierced him throughout his shower. A chill thought occurred when drying, bringing out goose pimples. What had she said as she left? So tired was he back there that only now did this penetrate his exhausted brain.

  "Bye for now. See you in an hour, Oleg."

  It hadn't registered then. Now it hit hard. Oleg? How could she know?

  He picked up his mobile and called Andrei. He denied all, even as he could not contain his laughter at Oleg's disappointing start and finish. So how did she know? It couldn't be a guess. There was no point. He dressed, all the while kicking himself. He must have made a silly error. He could not think when.

  Walking across to her hotel he examined and re-examined himself. He was no wiser.

  She was not in the lobby. He called her from the concierge's phone. She gave him her room number, explaining she was almost ready but needed a few more minutes. Why didn't he come up?

  He reached her door, to find it ajar. He knocked.

  "Come in, Oscar. I'm in the bathroom. Just let me finish my make-up. Head onto the balcony and help yourself to wine. It's open. It should be chilled by now."

  He did as instructed. She'd called him Oscar. Good. Had he misheard earlier? Maybe Oleg had been a slip of the tongue. He could relax.

  Beside the wine were a couple of litre bottles of water. He consumed one in moments. His dehydrated body was still fighting to have its sweat loss replaced. He ignored the wine. He should have told her he didn't drink but there'd been no previous reason to do so.

  His eyes drifted out to sea. She had a good room, with a view better than his, though the hotel was not comparable.

  He heard a noise. Turning, he tripped over his own feet.

  "Like what you see?"

  Oleg was dumbfounded. Kjersti stood before him in Adidas-logo shorts and top in blinding white. Both garments hugged like the tightest of gloves. They set off a figure most men would write off as wiry and unfeminine. To him she was close to perfection. Her stomach was firm and as taut as a long-distance runner's should be. In white, set against her tanned skin, she seemed almost virginal.

  He raised his eyes. Unlike before, when noting her lack of make-up, tonight she wore some, not heavy but accomplished and in a way that made his stomach contract. Or was it her expression? For the first time Kjersti's hair was not tied behind her head. It fell to above shoulder level. It suited.

  "I guess you must like what you see. You're gawping."

  She took any sting away by brushing past him to open the remaining bottle of water.

  "What's for dinner?"

  "Didn't I tell you? Silly me."

  Her lips curved.

  "I'm having you. If you perform better than your running, you may have me. It should be much more satisfying than Thai. I've been waiting all week."

  She moved close again, offering to share the water. Her hand brushed his forearm. Involuntarily he bent forwards. She had that effect. Again he was losing. Only, as he was plummeting out of control, did his one remaining rational part note she had spoken her last sentences in Russian.

  Friday, Madrid

  The previous evening Ana had contemplated picking up Toomas when he arrived from Tallinn. When he'd explained Reelika was accompanying him she kept quiet. He hadn't bothered to drive her to Tallinn's airport on the Sunday morning after 'that' Saturday before. Besides, she wasn't sure if he'd fit into her Cinquecento and she was not going to risk the questions that must follow if she tried to borrow Inma's X5.

  Ana still hadn't raised the subject with Inma of that weekend with Toomas. She should have. Now it was too late. She defended her decision to herself on – even to her own ears – the dubious grounds that when they'd first met Toomas's investment firm was not yet a client. It still wasn't. Casuistry, she knew. She just hoped that Toomas would not project the wrong signals.

  He had suggested in his earlier email that they see more of each other if he was in Madrid or when she was back in Tallinn. That sounded a shade ambiguous to Ana, a little too like a woman beside every airport. She'd been non-committal. He was polite in response, at least on the phone, when Inma had asked her to invite him to visit Madrid to discuss moving forward with a deal.

  Today was going to be a big day for Inma's plans. If she could convince Toomas and Reelika, Inma would have the necessary underwriting capacity to offer deals to Lili and Enrique's associates and attract other underwriters. If Toomas could bring more than he'd promised to Ana in Tallinn the pot could be bigger for all.

  Ana carried on preparing the conference room. It was the one decent meeting place they had. Inma and her own office were drowned in papers, mostly research. Inma's was the worst for she maintained she had a visual filing system and had banned Ana the one time she had tried to do some reorganising. According to Inma she could find almost anything by searching her memory for where she had last seen whatever it was she wanted. What irked Ana was, time and again, Inma proved she could.

  For Ana it was different. Organisation was her strength. At regular intervals she would file everything not in Inma's office, plus taking copies of some of what was in Inma's office. This way she ensured their commercial foundations remained intact. Inma disliked but accepted the necessity and even had commented on her confidence in Ana doing it well.

  The dinner with La Abuela had been an eye-opener for all three. Ana suspected La Abuela was the most shaken yet the most pleased. Inma, when she put her mind to it, could switch on the charm. Ana had learnt more about what happened in Rome than Davide had ever related. Her tale about buying clothes and running past the Opus building in Parioli 'to say goodbye' entertained and cheered La Abuela endlessly. The evening finished with all three being happy.

  Inma walked in to their meeting room. Ana put aside her reverie.

  "Everything ready?"

  "Yes. We should be. Coffee will be brought as soon as they arrive?"

  "They?"

  "Didn't I mention Reelika was coming?"

  "Not a problem, as long as they bite."

  Following a knock on their office door they greeted their guests. Toomas was professional and neutral. If anything Reelika provided the warmer greetings. Ana inquired what they would prefer to drink. Coffees all round. She phoned their nearby café.

  Turning back to the others, she caught Reelika assessing Inma. Inma didn't seem to notice but, if Reelika continued, Inma couldn't fai
l to see the interest. Toomas, meanwhile, made appropriate executive noises. He indicated they would like to catch the late afternoon Lufthansa flight to Frankfurt, providing they finished all that was necessary today. Ana was relieved. The chances of avoiding confrontations or having to make personal decisions were good.

  The coffees arrived. Once distributed, Inma began talking business. Although Ana thought the timing back-to-front, Inma started with the subject of how much re-insurance Toomas and Reelika's fund could underwrite. Toomas reiterated his original three to five million estimate before waving a hand for Reelika to continue. From Reelika's next words it was clear they'd talked with fellow funds. They had provisional commitments for at least a doubling of from two other funds, with an additional one more being an outside possibility.

  Inma beamed. This was better than expected. Her concept was ready to fly. Ana was pleased too. Clicking on the projector, Inma stood to present their side of the proposal. Reelika almost whistled aloud as she took in Inma afresh. This time Inma did take notice. Yet Reelika's behaviour was too deliberate, almost artificial. Ana felt uncomfortable for no reason she could isolate.

  Meanwhile, Toomas barely passed a comment, or even seemed interested in Inma. Ana supposed this could be viewed as a compliment to herself. Nevertheless, her antennae told her to remain suspicious.

  The presentation went well. Toomas and Reelika raised the anticipated questions. No show-stoppers emerged. They covered most of the fundamentals before lunch. They left the office and continued while eating.

  The principle difficulty involved the logistics of signing agreements. Inma made the suggestion that, if the olive oil producers meeting went well – they had described this as to happen the following week – Ana could fly back to Tallinn to obtain signatures and complete the formalities.

  Toomas assented. Reelika for a moment seemed about to suggest Inma do this, but kept quiet after an almost mocking glare from Toomas. Ana didn't know how to react. Something existed between them she hadn't sensed when in Tallinn.

  "That's all, Inma? Excellent. I think Reelika and I should head for Barajas. We don't want to miss our flight. Even then the connection only lands in Tallinn around midnight."

  More formally he approached Inma and thanked her. He did the same with Ana. Quite proper. Reelika on the other hand was desultory in her goodbyes to Ana while effusive to Inma.

  Ana walked them outside and waved down a taxi. As they climbed in she instructed the driver where to go before re-joining Inma in the restaurante who waved Ana back to her seat with an invitation.

  "How about a drink? We've been abstemious this far. Would you like one?"

  Ana opted for wine. Inma ordered a cubata, a Spanish size Cuban Rum and Coca Cola before she spoke again.

  "Did you get the sense I was being 'inspected'?"

  "From a man, 'visually groped'. From a woman I don't know the expression. Reelika was so overt and obvious in her regrets that they had to depart now rather than tomorrow. You'll have to watch out."

  "Look at this. Reelika 'provided' with both her email and phone number on this napkin. She transferred it as she smothered me saying goodbye."

  "Did you like her?"

  "To admire? Yes. She's elegant. But with behaviour like that? No, I don't think so. Too much in my face."

  "Perhaps you can go to Tallinn in my place and find out?"

  "Now, now! Don't be catty. And leave Toomas bereft? No way. He has the hots for you, though he was desperately trying not to show it. You didn't notice?"

  Friday, Úbeda

  Lili relaxed in her chair by the fireplace. Although not cold, she'd lit a small fire for the luxury of it. The smell of olive, interspersed with orange, wood always raised her spirits. Enrique continued tidying up after the lunch. The last guest had left a little before six. Some bleary, well-fed olive producers were going to suffer hangovers.

  Lili was grateful Enrique had insisted she stop. She'd been tense all day, from the moment Inma and Ana arrived mid-morning until they had left not long after the olive producers. She ought to have invited Inma and Ana to stay longer but was too tired for that this evening. Perhaps if it had been Inma alone she might have. But Ana too? No, she'd made the right decision.

  Lili heard Enrique loading the dishwasher with glasses. This had a distinctive ring. If he tidied as normal it meant she had at least half an hour more to think, or more likely doze.

  Involuntarily, her brain reprised the main part of the day, which had started at around one. She had thought this premature. Enrique argued that presentation of the proposal should happen before eating so that some part of the lunch might be spent debating whether it made sense.

  What had surprised Lili was the punctuality of most of the olive producers. Enrique had spread the word about the Condesa and her attractive assistant. Their number included the ferocious Soledad Valdez, a sixty-something producer of the old school who knew almost everything there was to know about olive growing. The sad part was Soledad was simply not good at olive oil production. Her business was known to be in a mess.

  Inma and Ana had delivered in spades. Ana wore a remarkable black and white dress, the colours split vertically. In low shoes, the short dress was demure while setting off her long legs. Lili could almost hear the mental whistles of appreciation from the lechers amongst the men when they saw her.

  Yet Inma had outshone Ana, in the simplest and softest black leather trousers with jacket over a pale pearl-grey blouse. Lili, who knew her clothes, detected an Italian flavour. Their guests didn't care. What they didn't drink from their wine glasses they did through their eyes. They paid attention when she stood.

  When Lili first saw Inma and Ana that morning she'd worried. First was Enrique's own behaviour – he was all over them. It was almost offensive. This passed. She had next worried that the olive producers would look but fail to listen. She couldn't blame them. If they didn't listen it was her own fault in requesting Inma and Ana add the 'wow' factor.

  Her concern was misplaced. Inma spoke well, with style. Within minutes the assembly was eating out of her hand. Not only did they pay attention, Inma had structured the proposal to appeal to their greed. All of them found it a struggle to survive. The premium olive oil industry was not for the weak of spirit.

  What Inma described hit their pockets and common sense. Her litany of the pests and fungi they faced displayed a comprehension they could value. Her analysis of the limits of their existing insurance emphasised weaknesses they recognised. The remedies and the possibilities of additional profits by way of partial self-reinsurance attracted.

  Ana had delivered the coup de grâce with a snappy, to-the-point, description of the financial mechanics. She covered who would have to do what. She had a very different speaking voice, less husky but clear. They made a formidable pair.

  With this part finished Inma stupefied Lili. She'd agreed beforehand with Ana that Inma would take questions before lunch. Instead, Inma suggested taking advantage of Enrique and Lili's cooking, paying a couple of gracious compliments in passing (Enrique had glowed): they should eat now. Questions could come later, over coffee.

  Inma had assessed her audience to perfection. They were ready for food, more wine and, most of all, to talk. They'd had enough of listening.

  The night before Lili had decided on two tables, with eight people seated at each, though this was cramped. With some trepidation she'd placed Ana and Enrique to host one table and she and Inma the other. As they were square tables it meant all could hear and participate. Where Enrique and Ana sat together she and Inma sat opposite, which meant she could admire Inma's graceful handling of each objection or question.

  Reluctantly, for she had no love for the old biddy, she had placed Soledad on her own table. Enrique tolerated her less well.

  Inma treated Soledad like the most valued client in the world. Soledad lapped it up, even if she pursued a critical line that questioned whether the re-insurance risks were too great for the supposed benefits. Inm
a's command of her subject, placed against Soledad's refusal to give in or shut up, soon brought support for Inma from the other five oil producers at the table. As much as Soledad persevered, the more they seemed intent on signing up.

  Later on Lili chatted to Enrique. It had been very different at his table. Nobody attacked Ana direct but they had started by trying to belittle her. According to Enrique, her calm command of detail won their respect. Lili was impressed. Enrique, from his expression, was even more so.

  With coffee in front of everybody, Inma had stood again for questions. Silence ensued. For a moment Lili thought all was lost until Soledad, of all people, stood. For her, nothing was outstanding, so why not relax and enjoy the good company? She hoped she could speak for everybody and thank Inma and Ana. This drew suitable vocal agreement.

  Lili was taken by surprise and felt relieved. She would try to think better of Soledad in future.

  Eventually, Lili called a halt to the lunch. She'd explained this was to enable people to leave when it suited them. They did not need to go. They were welcome to stay for as long as they wished.

  Within a quarter of an hour the audience thinned out. As each olive producer left, either Inma or Ana handed over a personalised proposal along with descriptions of what anybody committing had to do to participate. It was smooth, without sales aggression.

  Enrique joined Lili by the fire.

  "We did well, no?"

  "We did. I think we added much credibility. Even Soledad seemed pleased, though I don't think she'll join in."

  "No? Everyone on my table was giving off positive indicators. Maybe they were just trying to impress Ana."

  "You mean you weren't?" Enrique reddened. "We should talk. Perhaps now isn't the moment but it's been coming. We've been pretending to be lovers for too long. The blunt truth is we're not. You're restless. I doubt you'll win Ana but you should at least have the freedom to try. I'm going to move back into what we designed as my suite. No, before you ask, I haven't accepted that job. It still hasn't been offered. I still intend fighting for Olivos Ramos y Tremblay while it has my name."