by TorreS, Pet
Does Larsson Tiger’s kindness have a price?
Is he helping me only to then demand something from me?
I shudder at my thoughts when I realize that he seems to live alone in this mansion. After all, his maid-servant said there is no women's clothing in this house.
What if he forces me to sleep with him? What can I do?
I shudder at my thoughts for a second time and the fear is constant in me.
I can barely relax while taking my bath, thinking about these things. Then I rise from the bathtub and pull a white towel from the rack, wrap it around my body, step out of the bathtub and mark the floor with my wet feet.
Minutes later, I walk lost through the house and finally find myself again in the living room with the tiger carpet. I see Larsson seated on one of the ivory sofas. He is listening to a soft melody that is coming from a stereo in the corner of the living room, as he holds a crystal glass with red wine in his hand. His thoughts seem far away as he stares at the floor.
The sound of my light footsteps interrupts his thoughts and his gaze moves to me. I try to balance my body on my feet while I'm in a fluffy white bath robe.
My eyes look down at the ivory floor as soon as I realize that I’m flushed in my cheeks. My hair is still wet, loose and tousled. But that does not bother me.
What bothers me is that I'm in the living room of a stranger. I have no panties on and I’m in front of a man who is highly intelligent and smart enough to realize that there is a woman snuggled up in a bath robe and nothing else, and I repeat 'nothing else'.
I think about how naked I feel without panties!
Larsson raises his crystal glass with wine in my direction. "Join me?"
I blush at his proposal. In fact I do not know what his intentions are, after all he is offering alcoholic beverages to a woman in inappropriate attire, I would say almost without clothes.
"Oh no, thank you." I show gratitude as I am shaking my head. “Actually, I do not drink alcoholic beverages."
He raises his eyebrows at me, lowers his crystal glass with wine and I see disappointment on his face. However, he does not insist that I drink with him and that's a good sign.
I walk clumsily and sit on a couch facing him. I extend my arms over my legs, as if I'm protecting my intimate parts from some foreign gaze, or in this case, the gaze of the mansion owner.
I turn my head to my left and try to explain to him as my cheeks flush."I'm sleepy."
His green eyes are fixed on my face. His attention is drawn to my beautiful mouth for some secounds.
"I do not see this." He affirms. "Your eyes are very expressive."
I look down at the tiger carpet on the floor and try not to show him that he is correct.
"Sorry," he says, trying to be cordial.
I look up at the white ceiling of the living room and also at objects of great value around us.
"You have a very lovely home!"
He agrees with me, giving me a discreet smile. I am probably not the first or the last person to admire his mansion.
"What do you do?" I ask, looking at him. He’s staring into my eyes.
He leans his back against the couch and places his glass of wine on his right thigh.
"I work in the business of fun," he responds and winks a big green eye at me.
I shrug my shoulders and wrinkle my forehead at him, trying silently to imagine what kind of fun.
“Are you the owner of an amusement park?"
He smiles at me as if I have just told a joke with little grace and shakes his head at me.
"No, no." His gaze reaches an oil painting on the clear wall behind me. "I own nightclubs."
"Oh! Nightclubs you say?" I question fascinated.
"Yes, that’s right." He raises his crystal glass to his lips and drinks the rest of his wine. "Do you know how to dance?"
He looks back at my face.
"I do know but very little. I haven’t attended nightclubs before."
He raises his eyebrows looking surprised at my confession. "What do you do to have fun?"
I shrug my shoulders and squeeze my lips, trying not to look as antiquated. "I read books, watch good films and listen to songs ..."
"That's not fun," he says frankly. "Not my idea of fun."
I turn red completely as I think that his fun would most likely include women.
He puts his glass of wine aside, on the living room floor. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
I scratch my nape before answering him. "No I don't."
"I didn’t think so." He smiles at me, trying to break the tension in the atmosphere. “Dating is one type of fun."
"Do you see 'dating' as fun?" I question disappointed at him.
"Did I say something wrong?" He says somewhat ironically.
"No, I just think that 'dating' is an engagement and not 'fun'."
He shakes his head and laughs looking at the floor. Then he stares at me again and he suddenly becomes very serious.
"It can be both, ' engagement' and 'fun', don’t you agree with me?"
I prefer not to answer him and he takes advantage of my silence. "Now I can see that you are a very romantic person."
I heard the sarcasm in his voice when he said 'very romantic’. This seems to be something he sees as a serious flaw.
I swallow and stare at him seriously. "I am."
He beats his hands on his own thighs. "It might be the reason why you are still alone," he says smiling at me. “You might be waiting for some Prince Charming."
"I do not like your joke."
"Sorry, I did not mean to offend you. I just said this in jest."
"It looks like you're mocking me as if I am a girl who still believes in Santa Claus."
He puts his forefinger between his lips and gazes at my white bath robe. "Where is your family?" Larsson says, quickly changing the subject as he looks back at me seriously.
I hold my own fingers and look down at my lap while I answer him. "I have no family. My parents are deceased and my uncle gave me to a moneylender as payment for his debt."
Larsson opens his eyes wide at me. "Is that really true? Did your uncle use you as a currency with which to repay a debt?"
I raise my head and Larsson can see my tears gathering in my honey colored eyes. "Not even I can believe it."
"That seems like a story from a movie!" He comments almost laughing. "Preferably a drama film."
He rises from his sofa. "But do not worry! You are my responsibility now."
My eyes shine with hope. I shake my head as if I'm waking up from a dream.
"Well, it’s best you go and rest before your sleep escapes through this window," he says pointing toward an open window.
I smile at him like a child who has just won a candy or a special toy.
"Thank you," I say to him as I get up.
"Olinda!" Larsson exclaims and his maid appears before us.
"Yes, Mr. Larsson."
"Take Emily to a bedroom. She wants to rest now."
The maid looks at me. "Follow me, Emily."
Olinda walks in front and I'm behind her. As I look back at the living room I see Larsson with his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. He stands watching us from the living room as we go up the stairs.
"Good night!" I dare to say to him in a low voice.
"Have good dreams," his voice comes back as smooth as silk.
I smile discretely at him and look forward at Mrs. Olinda who remains with her posture erect as an excellent servant should.
Chapter 4
"Of course there was. You needed clothes. It is not suitable that you remain in a bath robe and no panties,"
~Olinda Says
I look up at the ceiling when Olinda closes the bedroom door from the outside. Now I'm completely alone in that majestic room.
The walls are clear. There is a double bed with bedding in shade of white. Both sides of the bed have two white lampshades. On the head of the bed there are some objects and I see a china sc
ulpture of a tiger.
I walk in the direction of the glass wall next to the bed and through it I can see the garden. However, even with so much natural wonder before my eyes, I'd rather unite the white curtains and pull them to hide the room.
I then walk toward the bed and sit on it. My hands glide across the bedspread and I feel the softness of its texture. I smile in silence as I think, “My God, I'm in heaven.”
I slowly lay my head on a giant pillow. I close my eyes, wishing that the next day can be as wonderful as this white room which brought me back a sense of peace.
****
I hear someone knocking softly on the bedroom door. Then I look at the curtains and see the sunlight filtering through. I realize that this is another day. I throw the sheet aside and get out of bed but my hair is tousled and I'm still in a white bath robe.
I open the room’s white door and see Mrs. Olinda before me. She raises several white paper bags.
"Mr. Larsson asked me to buy these clothes for you."
"For me?" I question in surprise. “There was no need for this..."
"Of course there was. You needed clothes. It is not suitable that you remain in a bath robe and no panties," she says sternly and hands me a lot of bags.
I blush and feel despair at her words.
"My God! I forgot my panties and my nightgown in the bathroom!"
"Do not worry about it. I have already taken your garments and thrown them in the trashcan." She turns her back to me. "Now dress appropriately. Mr. Larsson awaits you in the dining room for breakfast."
"Tell him I'll not be late."
I close the door and walk with the bags over to the bed. I do not have any time to look at all the clothes in the bags, and I try to be practical and not make Larsson Tiger wait for me for a long time for breakfast.
***
I go downstairs and can see Larsson standing from a distance, looking at his garden through a glass wall. He is wearing a black undershirt, dark jersey trousers and dark rubber slippers.
His gold necklace with the tiger pendant shines brightly on his dark undershirt. He passes his hands over his hair and looks at me as I am coming to him.
"Did you have good dreams?" His eyes go through my body covered by a cotton dress in an ivory hue.
"In fact, I do not recall if I had any dreams last night." My hands straighten the bun on top of my head.
"Do you like the clothes Olinda chose for you?"
"I have not had much time to check them all, but what I saw pleased me."
"I thought of taking you personally to choose your clothes but as you were only in a bathing gown ..."
He becomes silent and I place my hands over my nose and mouth when I realize he knows that I was wearing no underwear last night.
"Come on, let us have our breakfast," he says as he walks in front and I follow him in silence.
We sit at a huge glass table with ten black chairs placed around it. The dining room is white with a huge chandelier in antique gold hanging down from the ceiling. On one wall, there is an oil painting with the image of a tiger. On another wall there hang white Persian blinds and a very long workbench with three black ceramic vases.
I get lost looking at the variety of food on the dining table. Green grapes, papaya cut in half, jams, toast, sandwich loaf, coffee, milk and orange juice.
"Eat as much as you want," he says filling his cup with milk and black coffee.
"I love coffee!" I exclaim fascinated, looking like a princess in her gold castle.
Larsson smiles with his closed lips and fills my cup with coffee.
"Where is your family?" I ask him, tasting my coffee.
He puts fruit-jelly onto his toast and looks at me with dismay, not seeming to want to talk about it.
"They died in a car accident when I was ten."
"Oh, I am sorry!" I drink my coffee again and try to drown my disappointment in it.
"You're not going to eat anything?" He bites his toast with fruit-jelly.
"May I have a fruit?"
"Of course, you may. I told you to eat all you want," he reminds me and finishes off his last piece of toast.
My hand touches a bunch of green grapes. I pick up a grape and put it into my mouth. I notice that Larsson observes the way I suck the grape.
Chapter 5
"Have we come to this nightclub for you to drink water?"
~Larsson TIGER says.
Lights become blue, pink, violet, red and white and dance from one side to the other in a nightclub. The large space is crowded with young people. Noisy music stirs people on the dance floor.
Larsson holds my hand strongly and pulls me with him to a table at the end of the club. We sit at it and he signals to a waiter with his fingers.
"What would you like to drink?" He asks me and pulls a cigarette from his pocket, catches it between his lips and lights it with a black lighter with a drawing of a tiger.
The smoke comes in front of his face and hides part of his green eyes.
"Water."
He inhales on his cigarette and exhales the smoke through his nose.
"Have we come to this nightclub for you to drink water?"
I stare at him and try to say something, however, he speaks first.
"I'm kidding."
The waiter approaches our table in his dark clothes, puts his arms behind his back and Larsson gives our order to him. "Water, a shot of whiskey and a red bull."
The waiter walks away from our table and within less than two minutes he returns with the drinks on a steel tray. The young waiter puts the drinks on the table and leaves us at ease.
Larsson holds his shot of whiskey and red bull and swallows it up at once.
"Do you always come here?" I question him and take my water soon after.
"No, I don't. It's the first time I’ve come to this nightclub." He looks away and inhales his cigarette again.
"I thought you were the owner of this nightclub." I move the straw in my glass of water.
He looks at my face and smiles at me with a hint of irony.
"My nightclub is totally different from this one here!" He exclaims looking all around him.
I continue contemplating him.
"My nightclub is so much fun!"
I lean my elbows on the table. "And why haven't we gone there?"
He squeezes his cigarette butt against a steel ashtray and looks into my honey eyes.
"One day I'll take you there."
Our eyes are still captured by each other and a tune from Florence and the Machine Band, called 'No Light No Light' starts playing.
Larsson moves his chair back with the strength of his body and he gets up quickly, holds on my arm and pulls me from my chair. "Let's dance to this song."
I twitch my body nervously and blush with shame.
"I do not know how to dance."
"Do not be afraid, I'll lead you," he says, so we stop among some people dancing on the dance floor. The melody is a little stimulating and it makes my inhibitions begin to slowly fade.
His hands hold my waist and I rest my hands on his shoulders. His body moves with nimbleness and I can see the definition of his chest and his abdomen while he is dressed in black jeans, black shoes and black overcoat. As usual, he is without an undershirt and I think that must be his own fashion style.
His gold necklace with tiger pendant shines against my face. The play of light changes the color of his eyes. They become green, blue, violet and red, and this confuses me. However, he continues to move with his hands on my waist and his green eyes locked on my honey eyes.
I feel that my hips move according to the rigid movements of his hands holding my body tightly. The skirt of my doll style dress, in white with printed blue butterflies, whisks from side to side too.
We crouch and twist almost to the ground.
He smiles at my face and his lips come close to my left ear. "You move well!"
At that moment my legs become weak as I lose my coordination at his wo
rds in my ear. I also feel my body shiver with his breath against the skin of my neck.
I look up at the ceiling and see the globes of lights turning over our heads, lights flashing on and off, darkness - it all makes me somewhat dazed.
"I'm getting dizzy," I mutter putting my hand on my forehead and taking a step back, going almost to the floor. But suddenly I feel like I'm being lifted back up when Larsson crosses his right arm behind my waist and pulls me against his almost naked chest which is wet with his sweat.
My loose hair comes in front of my face and Larsson removes a few strands of hair putting them behind my shoulder. Our eyes lock for an instant. Green against honey.
His face approaches and makes a shadow on mine and our eyes lock again.
My lips are half-open and eagerly waiting the physical contact. His lips stop for a moment very close to mine and he thinks a few more seconds before trying to kiss me.
The melody from Florence and the Machine Band ends and it also ends my hopes of being kissed by Larsson TIGER.
"The song has ended!" He says seriously and moves his head back, definitely avoiding touching his lips to mine.
I am disappointed that he decided to back off and not kiss me at that moment. I feel his arm move away from my body. He turns his back to me and walks quickly among the people.
"Come on!"
His voice is rough but I continue to follow him.
We get into his dark car and Larsson orders his driver to move. I look out of my window all the time, avoiding him. I realize that Larsson lights a cigarette and begins to inhale it nervously.
The smoke gathers at the roof of the car. All the car windows are locked. I start to cough but try to keep it discreet.
Immediately, Larsson presses a button on his left side and the glass of his window comes down slowly. The puffs of smoke slowly disappear. Then I sigh with relief.
However, Larsson remains still, looking ahead toward his driver while I still keep my eyes on the window to my right.