Love under contract (17 page)

He was already holding her half up in the air with his arms, and one of her legs was wrapped around his hips; he turned her around so that she was pinned against the wall. The risk seemed to arouse her greatly. He had to put his hand over her mouth as he pushed into her because she cried out loudly, far too loudly. She had now wrapped both her legs around his hips, and he held her tightly – and he had to admit it was quite unique for him too, although he hoped that no one would pass by and see him with his pants down.

Breathing heavily, both stopped briefly. She smiled and kissed him, pulled her dress down and smoothed it with her hands.  She breathed deeply and stroked Gregor’s cheek; he had pulled his pants up, and not a moment too soon – a waiter came through and looked at them pointedly and grinned. What the two had been doing here was immediately clear to him, as he saw the clothing askew, Gregor’s shirt hanging out of his trousers, half open, wrinkled . . . the messy hair.  Good-looking couple – too bad that he didn’t have to come to get the case of wine earlier . . . 

Gregor looked at Zara. “You’re crazy,” he said, after the waiter had passed by. She laughed aloud. “Well, you seemed to enjoy it too.” She buttoned his shirt.

His glance fell on the condom dispenser, and he realized that she had never brought up the topic of protection. “Are you taking the pill?” he asked, as they were walking back. She looked at him oddly, as if he were asking her about something entirely foreign. “Why, should I?” He shouldn’t know about her secret. He was more than astonished. “With so much sex, it’s a real risk . . .” She laughed again and sat down, took a sip of Martini and kissed him as he sat next to her on the sofa. She said no more about it; she wanted him to draw his own conclusions.

Had she decided to have a child? Not that he would have anything against it; in fact, he would welcome it, but it certainly left him at a loss for words. He was quiet and looked at her. She leaned back, and crossed her legs.

He had actually only decided to do without condoms because he considered her to be safe, since the detective had not found any history to the contrary. The detective thought her to be somewhat of a saint, and sexually-transmitted diseases were not ever in question. In addition, he could imagine himself having a child with her, but he didn’t think that she was interested in that right at the beginning. It confused him – why, then, didn’t she want to marry him? Did she feel more for him than she wanted to admit? Was there really more behind all the passion? The thought alone made his heart beat faster.

Zara knew what she had accomplished with her remark. She wanted him to be confused, to deliberate about her hint. She stared into the alcohol in her glass – everything was moving along better than she had hoped.

In the morning, Gregor found her in terrycloth hot-pants and a short T-shirt, lying on her stomach and reading. She must have gotten up very early. Didn’t she need any sleep?

She reminded him of a college-girl. She heard him coming and looked at him. It wasn’t bad with him – and avenging her mother wasn’t bad either, at least up ‘til now – and, my God, in those tight jeans he has a rear end to die for.

He saw the books – what was she studying? “You’re flying somewhere?” he asked, and sat down on a chair nearby. He had seen her suitcase in the entry; she must have packed earlier in the morning.

She played with her ball-point pen and turned a page. Noticing that he was still looking at her, she looked up. He was very serious, as if he were lost in thought.

He didn’t want her to go away, and sighed at the thought. “Hey, that’s my job,” she said, smiling. He bent down, close to her. “I know that, I know our contract . . .,” he said calmly and pushed her glasses, which had slid down a little, back up on her nose, and kissed her on the cheek. According to the contract, he was not to hinder her to travel and pursue her job.

She laughed and bent backward, lifted her legs and wrapped them around his hips, pulling him from his chair. They fell onto the books. “You’re not longing for me already, are you?” she laughed and ran her hand through his hair. He said nothing. “And would that be so bad?” he asked, a little embarrassed. She laughed and kissed him passionately and before he knew it, she had unbuttoned his jeans, pulled up his T-shirt . . .

He would need the days without her to recover, and yes, he would miss her, more than he would have liked.

He was even more surprised when she stood before him later that afternoon, fully dressed, and wanted to say good-by. “You’re leaving today already?” he asked, taken aback. She was wearing a tight black pantsuit, with her dark glasses and her hair pulled back, ready to travel. “Yes, I have to be in France tomorrow morning.” She smiled and leaned toward him.  He had been absorbed in his work, but now he leaned back and pulled her to him. She sat on his lap and put her arms around him.

“Did you tell the chauffeur when to be ready?” he asked, and pushed her glasses back on her nose. “Yes, he’ll be here any minute.” She had already taken charge in the house some time ago, even the housekeeper seemed to idolize Zara. She could wrap anyone around her little finger, which made him a little uneasy; it was usually he who controlled everything.

She laughed as if she could read his thoughts, kissed him gently on the mouth and ran her hand through his thick blond hair. “Doctor, you’re really not going to miss me during these next few days,” she whispered. How blue his eyes were, how longingly he was already looking at her – and that was only after a long weekend. “If you hadn’t been so obstinate, I would have taken you with me much earlier,” he said. That wasn’t exactly the answer to her question, but she understood. His interest in her had not developed overnight. Who knows? Perhaps he saw a photo of her at her mother’s at some point?

“You’d better go, or I might lock you up,” he threatened and pushed her off his lap. She laughed and began to leave. As she reached the door of his study, he asked, “When are you coming back?” She turned toward him and without thinking about it, said “Friday . . .” and whispered, “maybe,” but he didn’t hear that.

Gregor had kept Friday evening free, as well as the entire weekend. He also picked her up from the airport although he actually had a meeting, which he postponed until Monday without hesitation. He wanted to see her and even considered whether he should buy her flowers, but decided against it. He had seen something else when he was in Los Angeles, on Rodeo Drive, at Harry Winston to be exact. It was a unique pair of star-shaped diamond earrings with a pink shimmer.

Zara saw him already in the distance – he was very tall and towered above most men. She was tired, but not so much from the flight. She had celebrated quite a bit yesterday and Paris was exhausting in general. She had also found out that Gregor had put several of the properties up for sale, for which she had given him the power of attorney. If he maintained this schedule, she and her mother would be debt-free soon . . .and that was good. She couldn’t, and didn’t want to stay with him too long.

Gregor saw her coming in his direction. She looked tired and had circles under her eyes.  “What strenuous demands did your job require this time?” he asked. She smiled, but didn’t answer, and studied him silently. He must have come from his office, otherwise he wouldn’t be wearing a dark blue suit and tie. She embraced him and kissed him, carefully. He smelled good and she briefly closed her eyes and breathed in. “And did you miss me?” she asked him teasingly, giving him a kiss on the cheek and mussing his hair with her fingers.

“Don’t get any ideas! I missed the sex,” he said and pressed her against him. She laughed. “Then come with me . . .” He glanced at the clock in the airport. Actually he had to return to the office. “I have to go back,” he said quietly and with great regret. She smiled sympathetically; let him earn a lot of money, she would need it, after all, but he should think of her, and only of her, the rest of the day . . .

In the limousine, Zara immediately lowered the dark partition between the driver and the back seat, and turned toward Gregor with a furtive smile. He had hardly leaned back and the car had just left the curb as she reached for his tie, loosened the knot and pulled it over his head; with nimble fingers she was at his pants, his shirt . . .

Gregor laughed and held her hands tight. “I have to work later,” he reminded her. She smiled with half-closed eyes, unbuttoned her knee-length narrow black coat, and pulled her wrap-around dress high over her hips. Suddenly she sat on his lap – she was wearing thigh-high stockings – and pushed his hand between her legs. He could feel how aroused she was.

She kissed him as if it had been a thousand days since she saw him last. “Zara,” he whispered breathlessly. She knelt down in front of him, opened his trousers and smiled at him before she proceeded to make up for the week away. At some point he succeeded in pulling her up and entered her forcefully while she sat on his lap.

He was happy that the limousine’s windows were tinted so that no one could see them, or hear them. She stayed on his lap a little while longer and he kissed her gently, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the small velvet box.

Zara looked at the box and recognized the wrapping as Winston. He was really very attentive.

He opened the box with one hand and extended it toward her. “You can only have this if you get off me,” he said jokingly. She tried to reach for it, but he pulled it away. She found it very pleasant, actually far too pleasant, when he was inside her. “Move!” he ordered. She twisted her mouth into a pout and gave him a kiss, but obeyed. Then he gave her the box and she put the earrings on.

The jewels were beautiful, very beautiful, she decided as she looked at herself in the mirror. Sex became her well. Her face was still flushed, her lips were fuller than before – she was actually always more beautiful after sex, she noticed with satisfaction.

“Thank you,” she said and kissed him. Gregor had dressed himself again and was searching for his tie. He glanced at her, still looking at herself in the mirror. “Diamonds were not a bad choice, apparently.” “No, never!” she laughed.

She looked at him, fished the tie out of the crease between the seat and the upright cushion, and tied his knot. She was very close to him; he could see her freckles as they danced in front of his nose, and as she moved around he saw her full pink mouth and her little nose.

It may have been the moment that he thought for the first time that he had fallen in love with her and that it wasn’t just sex that he had been missing, but also her intelligence, her humor, her elegance.

“The chauffeur is going to stop at our house, but I’ve reserved a table at Aureole,” he said then, and continued to look spellbound at her mouth and freckles. She smiled; at least he didn’t have a French restaurant in mind, but rather progressive American cuisine for a change.

“Oh, fine, Dante’s food is always good.” Gregor raised his eyebrows. Of course she knew the kitchen chef – that astonished him – since she ate practically nothing, at least in his presence . . .

“As if you were in a position to judge,” he said sarcastically. Zara, who was fixing her hair, looked at him. “Just because I don’t eat much doesn’t mean that I don’t know anything about food.” Gregor smiled apologetically and pulled her to him by the arm. “Okay, you can cook, but not eat.” She pretended to pout, and bit him gently on the lip. “Ow, I have to go to a meeting.” He opened the bar and looked in the mirror – he couldn’t go to a meeting with a fat lip – what would his colleagues think? Zara’s laughter rang out. He was so vain. “Don’t worry, nothing happened. I’m very careful.”

As the car stopped in front of Gregor’s house, the chauffeur opened the door to help them out of the car. He carried the suitcase into the house and grinned at them again and again. He knew full well what the two had been doing in the limousine on the way from JFK to Manhattan.

When the driver returned to the car, Gregor had already raised the partition and said to him, “You’ll have to hurry; they’ll be waiting for me.”

Levin had been Gregor’s driver since he had been in New York; he had seen the actresses, the models, and now Zara. He looked in the rear-view mirror, saw Gregor’s relaxed, happy face . . .lost in thought, but happy. He had never seen his boss quite like this.

“Is it serious?” he finally asked. Gregor looked at the back of the driver’s head. “One could say that, but first the lady has to say yes . . .” Levin laughed. “That won’t be so difficult.” Gregor sighed. “You have no idea!” He looked out of the window. “She is very difficult. Snobbish French nobility.” Levin knew that Gregor was Jewish as he was, and understood what he meant by that comment. “But you’re not religious,” he said. Gregor laughed. “I think Madame doesn’t really care . ” He sighed again and straightened his tie for the tenth time. If it were only that problem, he would have already solved it by now.

Gregor sat in the meeting and from time to time stared out of the window, lost in thought. He didn’t hear when someone addressed him and had to concentrate so that he could follow at least half of what was going on.

Alain shook his head. He had never seen Gregor like this and when he was alone with him in the office, he asked: “What’s wrong with you – you seem so preoccupied, as if you’re away somewhere.”  Gregor smiled. This woman, no, his lover -- even the word made him nervous -- was constantly on his mind, most recently the mental picture of her in the car, as she knelt at his feet, her dark blonde shock of hair in front of him – there was something so devoted, so tender about it, that he could hardly think about anything else except the gratification that she gave him, the passion.

“I’m sorry, I guess it’s just not my day,” he said, evasively. “Catherine?” Alain asked, curious.

Gregor shook his head, leaned back and said, “Oh, that’s been over for a long time . . .” After Zara had stood before him naked for the first time, he had never thought of Catherine again.

“Someone new? Tell me.” Alain sat down; what new beauty had Gregor come  up with now. “Is it another one of these beautiful actresses?” Gregor laughed. “Well, aren’t you the curious one!” “To be honest, no matter who or what it is, your mood of late has pretty much brought us to despair.” He thought about how serious and grumpy Gregor had been lately, hissing at everyone. “That bad?” Gregor grinned and looked out of the window; had Zara already had such an influence over him, he wondered, on his moods, his spirit? There was that fear again; he could love her more than she would love him, and she could leave him.