Shilo's Secret

by Stephan, Judith

  Regan was a dark-haired man with closely cropped hair. He was fairly attractive although he had a badly pocked skin, evidence of a difficult adolescence. He was amiable enough, yet Shilo felt he was, well … a bit dopey! He spoke in almost a drawl and appeared a bit absent minded. Regan, on the other hand, was decidedly uncomfortable about the dance, having observed Stratt’s flirtation from the night before, and not wanting to intrude on what he thought was a budding romance. Stratt needed a fling to get that stupid Iris off his mind, and maybe this English beauty was just the ticket.

  “I thought you and Stratt were supposed to be doing the music tonight?” she inquired.

  “We had to set up the mobile disco, and then just organise one of the waiters to change the discs,” Regan laughed. “Stratt is the king of delegating and then we are free to enjoy the party.”

  “Stratt’s certainly enjoying himself,” she said cynically, casting a wary eye at Stratt against the wall, and seeing that he appeared not to have even noticed her.

  Stratt had certainly seen Shilo enter, and his breath was taken away by her beauty. But he had promised himself the night before that he was going to try and get her off his mind and out of his system. The arrival of the French couple and their young daughter had been a suitable diversion, but Marie-Louise was only sixteen. He could not keep his eyes off Shilo as she moved on the dance floor with Regan, and he also felt very envious that his colleague’s arms were around her, albeit, he observed, reluctantly. The attractive sixteen-year-old was immature and beginning to irritate him with her constant giggling and inane comments. He excused himself politely and mounted the raised platform on which the mobile disco was situated. From there he watched Shilo, partially hidden by the disco set-up. He loved the way she had put her hair up, and the way ringlets that had escaped hung down her back. He marveled at her lithe figure in the black dress. She danced with Regan three times, and then Ronald, the Californian, stepped in. Ronald had his hands all over her, and kept on dipping her playfully. She seemed to really be enjoying herself … and to Stratt it was like a red rag to a bull. The American’s hands kept on slipping onto Shilo’s buttocks, even though she kept on brushing them away. He was nuzzling her neck and whispering in her ear. He had his hands around her slim waist as he spoke to her, and then held her too close as they swayed to the music. Stratt became more and more angry with himself for being so overwhelmed, so totally consumed with jealousy. At eleven thirty he could bear it no longer. He left the stage, where he had been half-hidden by the giant speakers, and was going to leave and go to bed. But something made him quickly choose a disc, hand it to the deejay and walk purposefully towards Ronald’s and Shilo’s pulsating bodies. The deejay had been told exactly what to play next.

  “I’d like to cut in here,” Stratt said firmly, “if you don’t mind.”

  He took Shilo’s hand and gently turned her around. Ronald was about to object at the disruption, but a withering stare from Stratt made him reconsider. Stratt’s body language indicated that he was not going to take no for an answer.

  “Excuse me, Stratt,” Shilo said, “I actually do mind. I was busy dancing with Ronald.”

  “I don’t care. You’re going to dance with me now.”

  “Oh, am I? Says who?” she said.

  “Says me.”

  He gripped her arms so there was no escape, and he drew her closer to him.

  “You’re going to dance with me, Shilo,” he reiterated through clenched teeth, as she began to struggle.

  Just then, on cue, the rock and roll number faded into “Lady in Red”, Stratt’s favorite song and one that the ladies always liked too. He picked up Shilo’s arms and placed them around his neck. And then he put his arms around her waist, pulling her closer.

  “I don’t understand this,” Shilo began, “You ignore me all evening and you don’t want to dance with me, you chat up young school girls in full view of everyone, and then suddenly I am forced to dance with you at gun point? I’m really getting mixed messages here. I just don’t get it, Stratt. It’s just not fair. You can’t play with people’s feelings like that.”

  “Just dance with me, please, Shilo,” he said gently, drawing her closer until she was crushed against his body.

  She could feel his warm breath on her hair again, could smell his exotic cologne and hear his heart beating in his chest. She could feel his strong arms around her, holding her close – too close, in fact. She gave up her fruitless struggle and surrendered to the moment. She could feel one of his legs between hers as they danced and she found it terribly sensuous. She tried to convince herself that these feelings were silly … but they kept on coming, thick and fast. His hands were on the bare skin of her back and moving gently over her silky skin, her breasts were crushed against him and he was breathing whispers into her hair. She began to feel some deep awakening, some hard and bitter core beginning to melt inside her, and tears welled up in her eyes.

  Then suddenly the song was over. He lifted her face gently with both hands. He wiped her tears away with his fingers, and looked deep into her eyes.

  “Thanks, Shilo,” he breathed.

  “Don’t even think about it,” she began as she predicted what was going to happen next.

  But his mouth had already descended on hers in a long, tender, lingering kiss. Then he released her and was gone.

  Shilo stood there, bewildered, trying to make sense out of what had just happened. Why had he acted like that? Stratt had disappeared from the room, and Shilo, unsure of his motivation, gave chase. She checked both bars. Empty – except for a lonely barman polishing glasses. Everyone was dancing. She looked into the darkened lounge, the television room, even the darkened passage to the kitchen. No one. She met a waiter on room service duty in the foyer. He directed her to the top floor. A huge sign boasting ‘STAFF ONLY’ greeted her as she stepped out of the elevator, and walked along a corridor where guests were normally forbidden to go. There was a light shining from underneath one door only, and she presumed that it had to be Stratt’s room. She knocked lightly but there was no answer. She opened the door silently and looked around nervously. It was Stratt’s room: She could tell from the photographs and certificates that adorned the walls. What a luxurious apartment, as it certainly wasn’t a room. A brown leather lounge suite stood in a nook nestled comfortably around a chrome and glass coffee table. A king-sized bed stood on a carpeted platform against the wall, with continental pillows and silk sheets in a deep burgundy. A wall unit boasted a huge flat screen television, a very fancy stereo and sound system, a collection of music CDs, DVDs and oddly enough, a set of leather bound plays by William Shakespeare. Naturally there were many books about animals, about Africa, about conservation.

  She looked more closely at the gilt-framed photographs. They were enlarged snap shots of Stratt at various stages of his life: A school boy draped over the shoulder of another school boy, dressed in grey flannels and a striped blazer, a basher casually resting at a rakish angle on his head - A St John’s crest in gold embossed in one corner. Stratt, the graduate, complete with robe and hood. Stratt in a tuxedo and bow tie at some formal function alongside other glittering people. Stratt, the ranger, with bush khakis and gun set against the tawny grass of the game farm. She saw an elegantly dressed, attractive woman in some of the portraits… his mother maybe? A few trophies, tarnished memories of an athletic youth, were on a shelf alongside coffee table books containing photographs of African scenes and animals.

  She scrutinised the certificates: “Stratford Ogilvy – Victors Ludorum”, she whispered, “Stratford Ogilvy – Most Outstanding Rugby Player, Stratford Ogilvy – Dux Scholar”.

  His Bachelor of Science, his Honours and his Masters degrees were on the wall above the dresser. His doctorate was in a standing frame. Shilo sighed. She knew so little about this man.

  Shilo suddenly became aware of the sound of water running, and realised that Stratt had to be in the shower. She sat down on the bed and waited.

  N
ot very much later, Stratt walked into the room wrapping a white towel around his waist; his hair all tousled and wet. His jaw dropped in amazement when he saw Shilo sitting there on his bed.

  “How did you get in here?” he asked, walking towards her.

  He pulled her up from the bed, with the intention of sending her away.

  “I asked a waiter where you had gone and I sneaked up – Everyone else is still at the dance,” Shilo answered, secretly admiring his physique still glistening with water droplets, “so no one knows I’m here.”

  Her hand was still in his, and she moved closer, until she was standing right in front of him.

  “Why did you come?” he asked, looking down, so as to avoid eye contact.

  “For an explanation,” she whispered, “I’m so confused.”

  He looked up to meet her eyes and her beautiful face in the soft light emanating from the bedside lamp.

  “Call it one of the great, unsolved mysteries of the world. I don’t know why.”

  “I wanted to be with you. I thought we had made a connection last night …. But you ignored me the entire evening… you didn’t even give me a second look and just chatted up that … that young girl… then you forced me to dance with you. I could not refuse. I wasn’t given the option … and then we danced…” her voice drifted off, “and then…”

  “And then I kissed you,” he said putting the words into her mouth, but his face had not softened. He still wore a serious expression and his voice wavered. He lifted his hand to touch her cheek, and she lifted hers to hold it there. He had the urge to embrace her again, but he controlled himself. “And I shouldn’t have done any of it. I’m sorry. I just couldn’t help myself,” he continued. “I just couldn’t help myself. I was caught up in the moment. Of course I saw you come in and I watched you all evening, watched Ronald’s hands all over you … and yes, then I kissed you.”

  “You did, and it was wonderful…” she said and moved right up to within a few inches from him and put her hands around his waist. “You don’t have to apologise for that.”

  Stratt tried to brush her hands away, but she was persistent.

  “Shilo, this is not right. I’m really sorry that it happened. It was just a wave of uncontrollable…”

  “Passion?” she interrupted.

  “Maybe,” he mused, “I was a little jealous of Regan when you danced with him, and then when that American jerk took over with his hands groping and touching you everywhere … I just …. I just couldn’t control myself, that’s all.”

  “Jealous? I’m very flattered. But if you didn’t want me to be with anyone else, why did you stay away from me all night? This just doesn’t make any sense, Stratt. Why did you just ignore me if you like me in that way? Why didn’t you…”

  “Oh, Shilo,” he sighed and pulled her into his arms. “This is not going to work. It’s really not. You are going to leave soon … go back to England …and then what? Then there will just be that emptiness again… and hurt.”

  He held her close for a few moments and she reveled in the clean, fresh smell of soap and deodorant and cologne … of Stratt. She squeezed him affectionately.

  “But Stratt…”

  “Sssh,” he said, “Don’t say anything.”

  She pulled away from his embrace and he smiled.

  “Really,” he said, “as much as we might be attracted to one another, it’s not going to work. Rather let’s save ourselves unnecessary and inevitable hurt.”

  She glanced around the apartment.

  “It’s a lovely place you’ve got here,” she said, trying to change the subject. “Do all the staff have quarters like this?”

  “Quarters?” he said abruptly. “I’m not just ordinary staff, you know, I’m Stratt Ogilvy.”

  “I don’t understand…” she replied, surprised by his bitter tone.

  “I’m Stratt Ogilvy, son of Philip Ogilvy. We own this Lodge and several others like it. This is my suite because I chose it. I wanted it so my father gave it to me.”

  She stared at him blankly, unaware of his intentions.

  “Ogilvy,” he continued tapping his head, “I’m Stratt Ogilvy. My father and I are millionaires. He made his money in the sixties and seventies on the gold mines.”

  “But I thought…”

  “I know what you thought,” he snapped. “You judged me before you got to know me. You judged me on my career of choice, you judged me on my appearance and on my clothes. You presumed things because you never had the courtesy to ask me any questions. You thought I was some ordinary guy, some Joe Soap, without wealth, without assets and without a promising future … and of a completely different class to you. Just because I don’t go around flashing my money and my status in front of people like you do, Lady Shilo Delucci, does not give you the right to have prejudices. Right from the minute I picked you up from the airport I could tell from your tone and attitude. You never even gave me a chance.”

  Shilo stared at him with tears in her eyes: suitably chastened and hurt by the deluge of vicious, sardonic words.

  “And that wouldn’t be so bad, because everyone makes mistakes. But what really gets to me,” he continued raising his voice slightly, “is that it made a difference.”

  “Stratt?” Shilo sobbed, astounded at his outburst.

  “I have never met such a snob in my entire life. You measure people by what they have materially, by whom they know, by where they stand in society. You don’t ever accept anyone simply because they are who they are.”

  “How dare you scream at me!” she shouted, her voice on the same pitch as his, the tears rolling down her cheeks. “No one has ever spoken to me like that before, and I certainly don’t have to take it from the likes of you!” She met his angry glare. “I just don’t understand where you are coming from. One minute you’re holding me and kissing me and the next… you’re shouting at me.”

  She was locked in his stare, and she couldn’t escape. Something was happening – and yet they were both fighting it tooth and nail. And to Stratt she looked so lost, so hurt, and so alone. The tears were streaming down her cheeks and her hair was tumbling out of the formal style she had so painstakingly done for the dance.

  Then he had her in his arms again, crushing her to his naked chest.

  “I’m so sorry, Shilo. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.”

  She let the tears flow – embarrassed by how easily they had come. She felt him caressing her hair, kissing her neck and his hands moved slowly and gently over her open back and onto her buttocks. He pushed her harder into him. She looked up at him.

  “What’s happening, Stratt?” she whispered.

  He gently kissed away her tears and then his mouth descended on hers, and he kissed her hungrily. She accepted his probing tongue, his caressing hands. She felt his towel begin to slip down and her hands moved down too to touch the hardness, to hold it and massage it until he groaned with pleasure.

  “I want you so much,” he sighed.

  “I want you too,” she said, “so much that it hurts.”

  She pushed him gently backwards until he sat down on the edge of the bed. She pushed him further until he lay down, still glistening with moisture from the shower. She sat astride him, and she could feel how much he wanted her. He searched her eyes for any sign of reluctance as he undid the zip on the back of her dress, and he caressed her breasts with his hands and then his tongue.

  “Are you sure about this?” he breathed.

  “Oh, yes,” she said. And she knew she was.

  And then he rolled her over onto her back, and was carefully undressing her, removing her shoes, her silk stockings her dress and her underwear. He marveled at the beauty of her naked body. His fingers and his tongue moved expertly to all the right places, and then with a deep groan he was inside the welcoming wetness, and thrusting deep inside her until they were one.

  They lay in each other’s arms silently afterwards for some time. Her hair covered his chest, and they simply
enjoyed the mutual feeling of closeness.

  “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered, his warm breath on her hair. “This can’t happen, Shilo.”

  “Oh, Stratt. What are we going to do?”

  “Shilo, it’s not going to work… and I somehow regret having made love to you, as it makes it even harder now. You are not going to be here forever, and we are going to have to say goodbye sooner or later. I can’t go through that hurt again.”

  “But Stratt… this feels so right and so good. How can we stop what we’ve started?” she sighed.