Love under contract (26 page)

A man close to Zara in age stood in the entrance way. He had dark hair, blue eyes – a blue that was probably provided by contact lenses, since it looked so fake that it couldn’t have been his natural eye color – and fine facial features with which he probably also earned money as a model. He looked at Gregor, speechless – with wide-open mouth – and stammered, “My God, my God!” Gregor laughed. “No, that I am not, but the synagogue is next door; perhaps you can find him there!” What kind of a guy was this, Gregor asked himself. Definitely gay. “Oh, my God,” Marc continued and now held his hand over his mouth. Gregor was a little confused. “Can I help you?” Gregor asked and suppressed his laughter. “Yes and how... !” he was able to utter. Zara now came to the door, stood behind Gregor, and looked past him. “Marc, close your mouth!” she ordered, and laughed too. She knew why Maurice was reacting like this, and that’s why she hadn’t said anything when Gregor volunteered to go to the door. Zara was wearing only her lace panties, but she knew Marc’s preferences. She could stand in front of him stark naked and he wouldn’t notice, even though her figure was quite boyish.

“This is Marc,” she introduced him to Gregor. “He is my neighbor.” “What do you need?” Marc smiled and pointed to Gregor. “This man, please.” Gregor shook his head and took a step back. Zara was still laughing. “He’s already taken, Marc . . .” Marc stared at Gregor’s perfect body. “You’re Gregor Levy, right? And perhaps also gay, no?” Gregor laughed even harder. “No, I’m sorry, I can’t help with that.” He embraced Zara with one arm and kissed her hair.

Actually the neighbor came at an inconvenient time, now, when they were finally getting to the point. He hadn’t seen his wife for a few days and now that he was sleeping with her again, the desire for her was so strong that he often had only one thing on his mind during the day, namely sex – instead of concentrating on his work.

“Marc, you’re interrupting,” Zara said and laid a hand on Gregor’s naked chest. “I see; how unfortunate. I only wanted to borrow some crème fraiche.” Marc grimaced dramatically – oh, why were men like him heterosexual – although he liked Zara very much, this man … he was too good for her.  He let out a dramatic, loud sigh. “Too bad, I would have taken him instead of the crème fraiche.”

Gregor stepped forward and said, “I’ll get it.” He didn’t find the young man’s stare all that pleasant. He didn’t appreciate such glances during his modeling career either.

He overheard Marc saying to Zara, however, “You didn’t tell me anything about him. What is Gregor Levy doing in your apartment?!” Zara laughed softly. “He is my husband.” “Oh, no! Since when?” Marc could hardly believe it. “You’re curious, and it’s none of your business; I’ll tell you all about it some other time. Now get lost with the crème fraiche, and have fun!” She took the container from Gregor and pressed it into Marc’s hand. Since he made no pretense of leaving, she shoved him out the door. When he was gone, she leaned against the door and sighed. “He’s very nice, but a handful . . .”

Gregor stood before her and looked at her. Had he heard pride in her voice for the first time as she spoke of him as her husband, even if it was just because he was her gay neighbor’s pin-up boy? “Marc has several photos of you in his bedroom,” she explained grinning. “I’m more interested in why you have crème fraiche at home.” Zara smiled. “For cooking?!” Gregor laughed. “But you don’t eat it yourself, do you? Zara laughed and embraced him around his hips. She stood on her tiptoes. “Now don’t say that I have an eating disorder again!” Gregor grinned. “It’s alright, I don’t want to fight just now.” He had something entirely different in his mind and picked her up to carry her to the sofa. She was so light!

She sank into the cushions of the broad, soft sofa and wrapped her legs around him. “Gay neighbors and a synagogue next door! Where did the woman with the perfect manners that I met in New York go?” he murmured and pulled Zara’s slip down. “She wasn’t authentic,” she whispered and ran her fingers through his hair. Yes, she liked him, she admitted to herself, even if she was sometimes furious with him, it was better with him than with most other men. She looked at his lips and came nearer, almost shyly, but Gregor, who had waited for days that she would kiss him, responded to her touch immediately.

She tasted like apple, like mint, like more, and he pushed her into the cushion. She simply held him fast with her legs and they lay there like teenagers for a long time, kissing and petting.

There was hope for him and Zara, he thought, smiling, as he saw her closed eyes between kisses, her full mouth, which she held out to him greedily, because she loved being kissed by him, because she loved every touch and wanted more, much more. She pulled down his pants with her toes and held him by his hips. At some point in-between he quietly asked, “Now admit that sex with me is fun, even without any of your crazy intentions and absurd thoughts of revenge!” She smiled and kissed him. “Hmm, I have to think about that, and I’ll tell you later.” Her eyes had something wily about them. What the devil did she have in mind now?

After they had sex on the sofa and on the rug, and climbed into the large round bathtub, Gregor said again “You’re going anyway, even if you don’t want to!” “Compromise?” she responded timidly. She pulled his hands up and held them, looking at his long fingers. Was there anything that wasn’t perfect about this man? He sat behind her, with her between his legs, leaning against his chest. She looked up at him. How could he resist her? She knew exactly how she could persuade him.

“Suggest something,” he said obligingly. “We’ll go to dinner and then I’ll take your people to the club. It’s supposed to be good.”  Gregor wrinkled his brow. He was skeptical; in the meantime, he had gotten an idea where Zara hung out night after night and thought it might be a little much for these men in their conservative suits with their even more conservative views. “And what do you mean by good? Sex? Naked women? Drugs?” Zara laughed. “No, well yes, maybe all that as well, but leave that to me.” “Zara, these aren’t some kind of crazy artists.” “Hey, I was once an attorney for these guys; I know that I can’t drag them to a hip-hop club!” “And you may well become their banker, if someone takes you on after this change in your way of life.” In fun, he pushed her underwater with one hand. “Are you crazy!” she cried out, when she came up for air. She wiped the foam off her face and laughed.

He knew that she had already gotten a job; he would have her by his side so that she wouldn’t do anything nonsensical. Plus, he would be able to credit the employment of his own wife, with her top-notch qualifications, to others. It hadn’t been his decision to take her on. He had even used his veto, but only to get his way. And, thank heavens, his plan worked. He pushed her wet hair out of her face.

The sound of the telephone pulled him away from his thoughts. Zara had brought the cordless receiver into the bathroom, and it lay on the wide rim of the huge bathtub, although tub was the wrong term. It was almost a Jacuzzi. Gregor reached for it, but Zara shook her head. “Don’t! It’s my mother.” She took the telephone away from him and answered.

It was, in fact, her mother, who was planning her next wedding. She was going to marry Owen in September. “Hello, Mama,” Zara said, trying to keep the receiver dry, and sat up a bit. She was sitting so close to Gregor that he could also hear her mother’s voice, bringing thoughts to his mind that he would rather have forgotten.

“Zara, am I interrupting you?” Aceline heard Zara’s voice, which sounded a bit strange. It echoed a little in the bathroom. “I’m in the bathtub.” She looked up and smiled at Gregor. “It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, Zara!” Aceline feared that her daughter was turning into a do-nothing lazybones since she had become a student again and was making Parisian nightlife unsafe for man and beast.

It was time that Zara came to her senses.

“I had sex all afternoon and after that, one has to take a bath,” Zara said amiably. Gregor couldn’t believe it; this woman was truly shocking. “Zara, you can’t be serious, can you?” Aceline naturally thought it was a joke. “Yes, naturally.” Zara had to stifle her laughter and, in the meantime, kissed the palm of Gregor’s hand, which tasted like bath oil.

“Well, I’ve just decided to get married at the Pierre again, or do you think it inappropriate?” It would be her second wedding that she would have at the hotel. It was more than inappropriate, Zara thought. Zara made a face, and gestured helplessly toward Gregor. Her mother and her weddings! “If you think it’s alright.” What does my new stepfather say? Are you getting a discount?” “He doesn’t care one way or the other; it will be a small wedding.” Aceline didn’t hear the second remark. “Does small mean 100 people, or 200?” Zara had to laugh; she knew her mother. “Approximately...” She was silent. “You’re making fun of me, right?” “Mother, you should write books about weddings.” “Zara, I’ve had bad luck, and I don’t like being alone!” Zara sighed. “As usual; get married at the Pierre – just let me know when everything is arranged.”

Zara turned around, and the water sloshed over her. “Are you alone? What are you going to do in the fall when you’re finished with this course?” Aceline somehow had the feeling that her daughter wasn’t bathing alone.

“No, I’m not alone and I don’t know what I’m going to do in September. Maybe I’ll go to Africa as a Peace Corps worker. I should probably try to do something for others.” Gregor had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing. “I’m hanging up. You’re talking nonsense. Have you had something to drink?” “No, Mama, not yet. Talk to you soon . . .” She hung up and burst out laughing.

“My mother and her weddings. I really liked Antonio, but this Owen...” She shook her head as she thought of him. Gregor wrinkled his forehead. “Owen Keanne?” he asked. “Do you know him?” Gregor was holding Zara’s buttocks. How lovely she was, how soft her skin was. He actually didn’t want to talk any more, rather...  “Yes, I actually am involved in some business with him currently.” “Oops.” Gregor’s face became serious. He stroked Zara’s face with his index finger. “At some point, we have to talk about your mother,” he said slowly. Zara sighed. “But not now!” She kissed him; she didn’t want to talk about her and ruin her good mood, and in a few minutes Gregor, too, had forgotten what he wanted to ask or say.

A little later, Zara was sitting on her apartment terrace in her Juicy Couture jogging outfit with her Notebook and wrote her paper, while Gregor had spread out in the study and was on the telephone. From time to time he glanced out through the door of the balcony and saw her sitting there, in her Bikini top and jogging pants, busily writing. Why couldn’t it always be like this?

He had placed her wedding ring on the desk in front of him and sighed. He looked at his wristwatch. Tomorrow he had to fly to New York again. He would rather have stayed with her than being in New York alone for a few days without her. He got up and went out onto the large terrace. It was actually a beautiful apartment, although not as large as her grandmother’s by far. The environs were livelier too. He saw the busy streets, the street musicians who were playing in front of a restaurant not far away. From the terrace there was a view of the Centre Pompidou, which provided a colorful contrast to the rest of the surrounding houses. He could see people leaving the synagogues, and bent over the balustrade and watched them for a while.

“Oh, that’s Gerard!” She pointed to the rabbi, who was speaking to several young people. “You know the rabbi?” he said, and hoped she wasn’t going to tell him that she’d had sex with him. At this point, he thought Zara was capable of anything. Zara laughed. “Oh, yes – I know him!” As she saw Gregor looking at her askance, she considered briefly whether she should lie to him to make him jealous, but she had left all that behind. So she simply said, “Have no fear, I haven’t slept with him! I met him in the café, and we’ve conversed about this and that. Sometimes he’ll come for dinner, when I’ve invited friends in. He’s pretty liberal!” She smiled and stroked Gregor’s cheek. “You really thought that I had slept with him, didn’t you?” She knew him, and he realized she had read his thoughts. “It’s quite possible that I’ve slept with many men, but there’s not a pastor or a rabbi among them.” Gregor laughed, relieved. “Good to know; I would have a real problem with a rabbi.”

The sun began to set over the rooftops of Paris and Gregor found it so beautiful that he could fully understand Zara’s homesickness for the city. Professionally, Paris was unfortunately not for him, and Zara had, after all, applied for some positions in New York again. Gregor had always felt at home in Paris. He pulled Zara away from the balcony railing and put his arm around her. “Have you finished your work?” he asked. She nodded and looked at him. He was so perfect in so many ways that she had to be careful that he didn’t hurt her. She missed him when he wasn’t with her.

“We have to leave soon,” he said then, pulled her hand up and put her wedding band on. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, startled, and wanted to take it off again.  “Oh, come on, you can wear it this evening!” He pulled her to him and kissed her. “Why should I?” she asked saucily. “Well, let’s think about it?! Maybe because it’s beautiful?” She smiled. “Who, the ring or you?” Gregor laughed. “Both?” She took his face in her hands and stood on her tiptoes. He was handsome, but the ring with its many diamonds was also nothing to sneeze at. Did he still have the engagement ring?

“Okay, you vain man, but only for that reason!” She kissed him passionately and pressed him to her. She pulled her legs up and Gregor couldn’t resist holding on to her. Her hands were everywhere, and his trousers fell to the floor. Gregor sighed loudly. They were going to be late.

Zara watched as he got dressed. She was ready to go.

He’s actually too beautiful for a man, she thought once again, as she watched him tie his tie. Gregor noticed her watching him and looked in the mirror so that he could see her face, and smiled at her. She looked beautiful, although the turquoise dress was a little too low-cut for his taste, actually to her navel, and he hoped that the two pieces of fabric – one really couldn’t describe them as anything more – would stay in place and cover what needed to be covered.