Back After the Break

by Anita Notaro

  ‘Mr Dowling asked me to look after your food and drink order,’ the porter explained, as if all this was quite commonplace.

  ‘Maurice,’ Chris explained as they were shown to their room, which turned out to be a magnificent suite on the top floor, bigger than the whole of Lindsay’s house.

  ‘Would you like some food?’ Chris asked as the porter hovered. She shook her head, suddenly feeling nervous and a bit sick.

  ‘We’ll have a bottle of champagne and . . . erm . . . some er . . . strawberries.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll have them sent right up and if you need anything else there will be someone on duty at the porter’s desk all night.’

  ‘Strawberries?’ Lindsay couldn’t help asking as the porter made a discreet exit.

  Chris grinned at her and again, he looked slightly vulnerable. She liked it.

  ‘Yeah, it’s the only thing I remember from that godawful movie with your woman with the teeth, when Richard Gere brought her back to his suite . . . you know, the . . . er—’

  ‘Prostitute.’ Lindsay didn’t know whether to be insulted at that, or take it as a compliment that he wanted to impress her.

  ‘God, every woman I knew, including my mother, dragged me along to see that one. By the way, I wasn’t implying anything about you, you know . . .’

  ‘Sure.’

  He grinned at her. ‘I’ve been waiting for an opportunity to try it out to see if it would impress, though. I can see it was wasted on you. And these kind of situations don’t happen to me often, as you can probably tell, given that it must be ten years since I’ve seen the movie. Sad, eh? Come to think of it, you do look a bit like Julia Roberts.’ It was the nicest comparison she’d ever had, even if it was a downright lie. And she didn’t believe for one second that he hadn’t had a million chances to try it out on someone before now, but she liked him for saying it.

  ‘Well, thankfully, you look nothing like Richard Gere, or all the Dom P in the world wouldn’t have dragged me up here. I’m more a Johnny Depp girl.’

  ‘So why did you come?’ She’d walked into that one. A discreet knock saved her. Chris opened the door to the waiter who left a giant silver tray on the nearest table. It was dominated by a huge cut-glass bowl of strawberries so perfect they looked waxy. Some had been dipped in thick, velvety chocolate and it added to the surreal appearance of the platter. A bottle of champagne nestled in a huge ice bucket almost overflowing with cubes. Two delicate, long-stemmed glasses and snow-white napkins stood to attention and the tray held a collection of tiny creamy porcelain dishes of nibbles – toasty, salty nuts, lurid green olives and even a little bowl of fluffy pink marshmallows, complete with a long toasting fork.

  ‘What on earth are you supposed to do with this?’ Lindsay was intrigued. ‘You need a fire to be able to toast marshmallows.’

  ‘Will this do?’ Chris had left the hallway to explore and had opened the double doors to a sitting room. A big, squashy couch with about a hundred soft, fat cushions dominated the room, which also housed a large Georgian fireplace with a huge metal basket in the grate, where a substantial log fire was crackling away merrily.

  ‘How on earth did they get that going in the twenty minutes since we rang?’ Lindsay couldn’t believe it.

  ‘All part of the service, ma’am.’ Chris was clearly delighted. ‘God, I’ll be doing favours for Maurice for years to make up for this.’

  It was a beautiful room, with a line of creamy candles burning on the wide mantelpiece that was dominated by an intricately carved gilt mirror. The floor was covered in several old gold rugs. A drinks cabinet and a huge TV and video were evident yet discreet and there seemed to be flowers everywhere, masses of white lilies in balloon-like vases and scented hyacinths, seasonal at this time of year, in baskets. The overall effect was opulent yet charming, expensive but homely, something rarely achieved in modern hotel rooms, at least not the ones Lindsay was used to.

  Chris appeared suddenly with the tray. ‘OK, let’s see if champagne really does taste better with strawberries.’ He smiled, setting the tray down on the floor in front of the fire and pulling a big cushion down beside it. ‘You look freezing, sure you wouldn’t rather have a hot whiskey?’

  ‘No, I told you, champagne only tonight.’ She plonked herself down on the cushion before she fell down with nervous tension. Suddenly she needed something to pep her up because for all her bravado earlier she now felt terrified. They both tried a strawberry and as she bit into the soft watery red flesh and sipped the chilled wine she tried to think sanely. She could make some excuse, pretend she’d been a bit drunk earlier and leg it.

  ‘Well,’ Chris sat on the sofa and looked at her with amusement. ‘You have juice all over your chin. Is it worth it?’

  She hadn’t even tasted the strawberry, so intent was she on getting to the bubbles to give her Dutch courage. ‘I’ll have to try at least one more before I decide.’ She was waffling as she popped one of the chocolate ones into her mouth, swallowed it whole and had to drink most of the champagne to avoid choking.

  ‘What are you like.’ He slid down beside her and patted her back, then took a napkin and wiped her mouth. She was mortified and before she had time to recover he leaned over and kissed her, softly at first and then more urgently, but still slowly as if they had all the time in the world. Just as she realized what was happening he stopped.

  ‘Bite, chew and sip,’ he grinned, handing her another one and refilling her glass. He sipped his and watched her. She tried to remain cool as she bit and then forgot to chew, swallowing half a strawberry, which immediately stuck in her throat. She decided to leave it there and keep drinking, anything to avoid looking at him. Unfortunately, it didn’t stop her feeling him near. He was very close and in that moment, with the warmth of the fire and soft light of the candles, it suddenly felt OK. Mad, insane, incredible, ridiculous but OK.

  She felt a hand under her chin, forcing her to look up. ‘Tell me a secret,’ he smiled at her.

  ‘A secret?’ She didn’t quite understand.

  ‘Yes, you know what a secret is.’ He wouldn’t let her off the hook.

  ‘OK, a secret is that I haven’t a clue what I’m doing here and I can’t believe I said what I did to you in the bar. I’m sure it happens to you all the time but I’ve never done it before. And now it’s very scary. And very exciting. Now, you tell me one.’

  ‘I fancied you the minute I saw you tonight and I was wondering if you’d agree to come out with me when you said what you did. This is much more than I’d hoped for.’

  Suddenly she wanted desperately to kiss him properly and he must have had the same idea because they met somewhere in the middle and it was as if they couldn’t get close enough to each other. They kissed for what seemed like an hour and she was surprised to find that she made the next move. She couldn’t seem to stop herself tugging at his jacket and slipping her hands in under his shirt. He felt cool and lean and hard. She had to see him, so she took off his jacket and he loosened his tie and she unbuttoned his shirt and he felt gorgeous. She kissed his stomach and his neck and his ears and he let her. He ran his fingers through her hair and traced a line down her neck and around her throat and looked at her strangely with the bluest eyes.

  ‘You’re beautiful.’ He smiled at her and she wanted desperately for him to touch her but he just continued to look.

  ‘I want you to touch me.’

  ‘Where?’ He kept his eyes on her face.

  ‘Everywhere.’

  She slipped off her soft velvet jacket to reveal her tanned shoulders and long bare arms. Her bustier made her boobs look bigger and her shoulders broader and with her long dark hair cascading down her back she felt sexy and powerful as she led him back onto the sofa and straddled him, playing with the ribbon front of her top, making to undo it but leaving it for him. She wanted to feel her bare skin next to his. He kissed the top of her shoulders and every bit of exposed skin before he very gently tugged at the ribbon and undid eac
h hook, revealing her shape a little at a time and kissing each bit he saw.

  ‘I want to look at you,’ he told her, standing up and pulling her with him as the bustier gave way, revealing her soft, warm, rounded breasts.

  They were facing the huge picture window and the moonlight flooded in, silhouetting her voluptuous shape, with the contours of her bottom and legs only half hidden under the chiffon skirt. He knelt in front of her and moved his hands slowly up her legs, feeling the satiny smoothness of her tights and breathing harder when he came to the thick lace top that told him they were, in fact, stockings.

  He unhooked her skirt and let it fall and she stood before him all legs and breasts with only the flimsiest bits of nylon and lace protecting her and she felt beautiful.

  ‘My God,’ he grinned at her, ‘you are one incredible woman.’

  He stood and pulled her to him and she could feel him through his trousers and she wanted to touch him more than anything so she moved away slightly and never took her eyes off his face as she plunged her hands inside his trousers, desperate to feel if he wanted her as much as she wanted him. He groaned and threw his head back and she got down on her knees and kissed him everywhere, exposing him, eager to see him naked for the first time. He did the same and suddenly they were glued together feeling skin on skin, revelling in each other’s nakedness and beauty.

  You are one gorgeous man, Lindsay thought, staring at him unashamedly.

  ‘Tell me another secret.’ He was watching her closely. She held his gaze.

  ‘I’m wondering what it will be like to feel you inside me.’

  His eyes darkened. She pulled away and took a sip of champagne. ‘Tell me one.’

  ‘I’m hoping I don’t disappoint you.’ She laughed, delighted that he was able to admit it.

  ‘Somehow, I don’t think disappointment is on the menu tonight. Anyway, I’m more scared than you so let’s take it slowly, otherwise I might run away.’

  He moved the tray and took her hand. They lay in front of the fire and kissed and touched and explored for ages before she surprised him by climbing on top of him in such a way that he seemed to shoot inside her. They both gasped at the sensation and he pushed her back to look at her, each of them afraid to move, knowing they couldn’t hold on much longer yet wanting to savour the moment. She thought he had the longest legs and the sexiest stomach as he lay underneath her with his piercing blue eyes and strong beautiful face and then he laid her down and kissed her everywhere from her little toe to her ear lobes until she was laughing and crying and sweating and writhing and begging him to stop and pleading with him not to.

  It was four a.m. when they finally got enough of each other and they snogged and drank some more champagne and finally got to toast the marshmallows on the still smouldering fire. Then they cleaned their teeth with their fingers and Lindsay tried out the complimentary cleanser and moisturizer and anything else she could find before pulling on the softest white towelling robe and jumping into the huge old bed beside him. Lindsay sank into the feather pillows, he pulled the eiderdown up around them and they said very little. She fell asleep thinking what an incredible night it had been.

  Chapter Twelve

  ‘OH MY GOD, Charlie.’ Lindsay didn’t realize she’d said it aloud until a sleepy voice asked, ‘Who the hell is Charlie?’

  Oh my God, Chris, was Lindsay’s second, silent thought. She didn’t know which was more worrying but she definitely knew which was the most important right now. She leapt out of bed, pushing back her tangled hair and glanced at the clock as she tried to dial a number and nonchalantly shrug on her robe at the same time, hoping he hadn’t seen her undignified exit.

  ‘Tara, it’s me. I need a favour. Could you go over to my house and rescue Charlie?’

  ‘Who’s Charlie, for God’s sake?’ Chris was sitting up now.

  ‘Who’s that, for God’s sake?’ Tara was all ears.

  ‘Can you do it?’ was all that mattered right at this minute.

  ‘Yes, but where are you? How did the night go? This must mean you didn’t make it home. What happened? I insist you tell me everything.’

  ‘I’ll talk to you later,’ Lindsay sounded sheepish. ‘Are you sure you can get him now?’

  ‘On my way, you just caught me going out the door. I presume you want me to feed him and let him out for a run. Will I take him back to my place just in case?’ Tara was teasing.

  ‘Yes,’ Lindsay just wanted to get off the phone, conscious that Chris was looking on with some amusement and she knew she must look wrecked. Besides she needed water and coffee badly. ‘Thanks, I’ll ring you later.’ Lindsay hung up.

  ‘My dog, I left him in the kitchen all night and it’s twelve o’clock and he’ll be chewing the leg off the table to get out for a pee.’ Lindsay bolted for the bathroom herself, where she managed to splash some water on her face and clean her teeth with her finger again, drinking a gallon of tap water whether it was safe to do so or not.

  She emerged looking only slightly more together, running her hands through her tangled mop.

  Chris was on the phone, ordering breakfast. ‘I just ordered everything they had,’ he grinned at her and patted the side of the bed next to him.

  What the hell am I doing here, looking like something the cat dragged in, with Chris Keating of all people? Lindsay moved slowly towards him and sat down, surprised in a way that he’d bothered to order food, convinced he’d want to make his escape and mutter something about calling her.

  ‘How are you feeling?’

  ‘A little bit seedy and a good bit shell-shocked.’

  ‘OK, breakfast and then a walk, that’ll sort you out.’

  ‘I’ve no clothes.’ Lindsay couldn’t believe her ears. ‘How the hell can I go for a walk in stilettos and a see-through skirt and bustier?’

  ‘Point taken.’ He looked at her solemnly. She felt like bursting into tears, for no reason.

  ‘I know, Maurice keeps a room here, he’s bound to have some clothes. Otherwise I’ll go out and buy you some. At least my suit isn’t transparent.’

  Of all the stupid things I’ve done, this has to rate in the top three, she thought, suddenly feeling very awkward with him.

  ‘Back in a sec.’ He headed towards the bathroom, sensing she needed time to herself.

  Lindsay crawled back under the covers and propped herself up, glad that the room was still dark with the heavy drapes drawn.

  ‘OK, let’s talk.’ Chris yanked back the curtains, letting the pale grey December light invade her safe corner.

  A knock on the door meant breakfast, interrupting their potential heart to heart. Chris carried the giant tray over to the bed and got in beside her. She took one look and burst out laughing.

  ‘What? Well, I didn’t know what you liked so I ordered the lot.’ He wasn’t lying. A pitcher of freshly squeezed juice and a bowl of the most exotic fresh fruit, everything from lychees to mangos, apricots to figs sat next to a mound of golden toast wrapped in a napkin and a basket filled with croissants, pancakes, muffins and scones.

  She lifted a lid to reveal fat sausages, runny eggs, bright red tomatoes and crispy bacon. A huge silver pot of tea and a jug of frothy coffee sat beside dishes of creamy butter and sweet-smelling jams, honey and even maple syrup. She suddenly realized she was ravenous.

  ‘Mind if I check the news heads?’ he asked.

  She shook her head with a mouth full of pancake. She just couldn’t resist. It all smelt so delicious, sort of home-made, with vanilla and sugar wafting up from the still-warm pastries and breads. A bit of mental space was exactly what she needed and the sharp juice and soothing tea helped clear her head. They ate in silence, watching the news stories of the morning and tucking in to the feast.

  ‘It feels like a picnic.’ Lindsay felt more relaxed now. She cast a surreptitious glance at him. How come men always look the same, whereas women looked wrecked in the morning, she wondered.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked without looki
ng at her.

  ‘What on earth are we doing here, in bed at midday on Saturday in one of the most expensive hotels in Dublin?’

  ‘Eating breakfast and watching Sky News. Seems OK to me. What would you be doing otherwise?’

  ‘Oh, something equally exotic like putting out the bins or picking up dog pooh,’ she laughed, realizing how ridiculous the whole thing was. ‘How about you?’

  ‘Working or sleeping or reading the papers. So, it’s not that different. I presume you don’t have to work today?’

  ‘No, not till Tuesday morning. How about you?’

  ‘Not officially, but I need to check in with the office, just in case. My mobile’s been off, but it doesn’t look as if there’s much happening.’ He jumped out of bed and switched on the phone, quickly checking his messages.

  ‘Great, nothing. So, let’s make a plan.’

  ‘Isn’t this where we get dressed and part and make a big deal about exchanging phone numbers?’ Suddenly she wanted to get it over with.

  ‘I don’t really know because this is not my usual morning-after-the-first-date scenario. Why don’t we go for a walk and take it as it comes?’

  ‘I’d like that, with some warm clothes, but don’t we have to be out of here?’

  ‘First things first.’ He dialled a number quickly.

  ‘Maurice, how’s it going? OK. Listen, thanks for the room, it’s really great. Do you need us out, or could we stay tonight if we wanted to?’ He wasn’t looking at her again.

  ‘Sure. By the way, do you have a couple of pairs of jeans and shirts we could borrow? Oh and a pair of shoes that aren’t stilettos? Size five I’d say.’ He glanced at her.

  ‘Seven.’

  ‘Or maybe a bit bigger.’ He laughed. ‘Of course I mean yours, I’m not asking you to go shopping. Where are you at the moment?’ Chris turned to Lindsay. ‘He’s here.’

  ‘I don’t want to meet him,’ she said quickly, afraid he was going to suggest Maurice come to the room.

  ‘Give me fifteen minutes to have a shower and I’ll meet you at your room. What number? . . . OK, great, see you then.’ Lindsay looked up at him.