The Unforgiving Minute (13 page)

into chino slacks, a blue oxford button-down shirt, and loafers.

I splashed Paco Rabanne cologne on my face and chest and, just in

case a miracle occurred, another splash in the pubic area. I

still had about fifteen minutes until five o’clock and I spent it

nervously pacing about the cottage. There was a small radio on

the night table which I unplugged and replugged into an outdoor

outlet on the porch. I turned the tuning knob until I found a

suitable station. The music was classical and was soft and

light.

I finally stood in front of the cottage nervously. Five

o’clock came and went. With every passing minute I was sure she

wasn’t going to show up. At ten minutes after, I was in a state

of panic. At twenty after, I was absolutely sure she wasn’t

coming. I felt hurt and lonely and had that urge to call Ann

Marie and cry on her shoulder. Just when I was about to give up,

I saw her hurrying up the path. An immense feeling of elation

came over me. She was wearing a denim skirt with high leather

boots and a short-sleeved white sweater. There were onyx beads

hanging from her neck, which, on close examination, seemed to

match her eyes.

“Oh, Robert, I’m so sorry. I was running a bit late and I

had to go back to my cottage to freshen up. Please forgive me.”

“Think nothing of it,” I said. “I just got back from a

hike in the woods and was running a little late myself. Come on

in. I have our cocktails all ready.”

I took her hand and led her to the porch. I poured two

glasses of water and sat down across from her. I don’t know if

she could see the adoration in my eyes, but it must have been

obvious.

Our conversation immediately turned to telling each other

about ourselves. I was glad she went first. I didn’t have the

foggiest idea what my story would be. I certainly wasn’t going

to tell the truth. I was a little ashamed of my story and wanted

her to think highly of me.

I learned that she was a Briton by birth. Her parents

were also British-born. Her grandparents had come from China

years before and were long dead. The family tried to keep the

Chinese traditions as best they could. Hence, the keeping of the

Chinese name, Chen Lei. It seemed, though, that she was known

also as Lee Chen in many circles. She met Christine Dinsmore in

college and their friendship lasted throughout their lives. She

was forty-seven years old, which amazed me. She looked no more

than thirty-five. She had been married to a successful Caucasian

British businessman, who was later elected to Parliament. Their

marriage was childless and after twenty years they felt

themselves drifting apart. Lee had a clinic in London and

wrapped herself in her work. Her husband, Derek, became more

involved with his Parliamentary duties and less involved with his

home life. Lee tried desperately to save the marriage but found

herself doing that halfheartedly. It wasn’t a surprise when one

spring evening three years ago Derek broke the news that there

was another woman in his life. Lee was surprised at the manner

in which she coped with the news. At first, she felt nothing.

About three months later, depression set in. She felt that

twenty years were wasted and that somehow she had failed. Most

of their friends were from Derek’s world and she found herself

more alone than she thought. She sank into a depression and was

terribly unhappy. She took the job with Dr. Bierbauer as a means

of getting away from everything in her life. The spa was only

open seven months a year and she spent the rest of her year

living with a sister in New York. It turned out that this

exquisite creature had actually been living four blocks from my

office in New York.

Christine had taken over Lee’s practice and the workload

was overwhelming. Chris had begged Lee to come back constantly

but London was the scene of her great failure in life and she

could not yet cope with it. Lee was thrilling me with the most

intimate details of her life even though we had just met. I

wondered if our mutual friendship with Christine was the bond for

this intimacy or if she was feeling what I was feeling. When it

was my turn she filled a few things in that she already knew.

“Well, enough of me. Let’s get to Robert Boyd. Let’s

see, I know you’re happily married to a very lovely woman whose

name is Julie. I know you have three beautiful children. I know

you’re intelligent and I know you’re a smashing-looking man,

which I’ve already seen for myself.”

Her smile at that moment almost made me faint again and

the fact that she thought I was smashing-looking thrilled me. Of

course, she might just be saying that to be polite.

“As far as my lovely wife,” I said, “we’re separated. The

same thing happened to me. We just drifted apart. Actually, I

came here for the same reason. I had to get away from my life

and all the reminders. I’ve also been terribly lonely.”

I could see a mixture of concern and relief in her eyes.

I knew at that moment that there was going to be something

between us.

“I feel so bad for you,” she said. “I know what you’re

going through. You must try to pull yourself together somehow.”

I felt like a real heel. I just couldn’t tell her that I

voluntarily took off suddenly, leaving my family behind. I

preferred the tragic story of a marriage gone awry that I was

embellishing by the minute. After all, it had, hadn’t it?

“Thank you, Lee,” I said somberly. “I appreciate your

concern. I really do. Meeting you has been so good for me.

This is the first time I’ve felt relaxed in months.”

“It’s funny,” she said. “I feel the same way. In fact

you’re going to think me very cheeky for saying this, but from

the moment I saw you I felt a certain chemistry. I think you’re

a very handsome man, but that’s not it. I felt a certain warmth

that seemed to radiate from your presence. I felt protected and

comfortable and, yet, I didn’t even know you. It’s a very

strange feeling.”

I couldn’t believe it. Here I was in awe of her and she

felt the same way toward me.

“I’m glad you said that, Lee. I can tell you now that the

moment I saw you, I was totally taken with you. I haven’t been

able to think of anything else for hours.”

I knew that the time had arrived for me to kiss her, but

how? She was sitting across the table and it would have been

awkward for me to walk over, bend down, and kiss her. Instead, I

reached across the table and took her hand. The way she

responded was mind-boggling. She intertwined her fingers in mine

and lightly stroked and caressed my hand. An electric feeling

went through my body. The message was clear. It all happened so

fast that I really was lost for words. I pulled her hand to my

lips and kissed it. I ran my tongue lightly over her fingers and

erotically licked and sucked them. I could see the passion in

her eyes and face and could feel mine growing in my loins. I

stood up, lifting her by the hand and arm as I did so, and we

literally fused into one as we coiled in an embrace. Our tongues

hungrily sought each other and our hands lightly and tenderly

explored each other’s bodies. I walked her slowly to the bedroom

and eased her down on the bed. I found myself in no hurry to

consummate the act, but instead spent a long, luxurious time

kissing, stroking, and gradually undressing. We finally stood up

to complete the undressing process and I pulled down the

bedspread and blankets, exposing the sheets. She stood there

naked for a moment before coming to the bed and I looked at her

with adoration. Her skin was golden and the thatch of black,

thick pubic hair set the golden color off perfectly, as did the

dark nipples on her small, little-girl breasts. Every muscle and

curve on her body seemed to be sculpted by a master. Her thigh

and buttock muscles were as hard as a body builder. There wasn’t

a soft spot on her body. She was like an airbrushed photo in a

girlie magazine. I felt flabby and inadequate in her presence.

She was magnificent as she stood there nude with only the black

onyx beads dangling from her neck. I pulled her to the bed and

slid down her body, kissing and licking from her breastbone to

her pubic area. I reached down, spread her legs, and placed my

tongue at the source of her passion. She gasped and moaned and

came almost instantly but I stayed there, causing her to achieve

orgasm again and again. She squirmed and almost screamed but I

just wouldn’t let up. I wanted to satisfy this woman more than

any man in her life ever had. She was a goddess and I worshipped

her.

Finally she said,” Robert, you are wonderful. Now let me

make you happy.” She pushed my head away and slid down my body

as we traded places.

She took my erect penis in her mouth and it felt like

velvet. She was tender and gentle and her tongue, lips, and

palate worked in concert to take me to a place I’d never been

before.

We took turns devouring each other’s bodies, sucking,

licking, and caressing. Our moans intermingled in a chorus of

love and passion. We seemed to be prolonging the moment of

entry, the moment of truth.

Finally, I entered her and our joy was sublime. It was

like a ballet, every movement graceful and seemingly

choreographed. We responded to each other’s moves and needs like

lovers who had been together for years.

Finally, her legs wrapped around my buttocks, we came

together in a moaning, gasping crescendo that I was certain could

be heard through the entire complex.

Afterward, as we lay in a euphoric state, I ran my hands

lightly over her body. Her skin was smooth as silk. I had truly

never felt anything like it. I read somewhere that Orientals

don’t have the hair follicles in their skin that we do. Whether

it was true or not, I couldn’t keep my hands off her.

“Lee, I know this is crazy. I know we just met. Forgive

me, but … “

“I know what you’re going to say. You’re going to tell me

you love me. I think I love you too but let’s wait until we’re

sure. I vowed I would never fall in love again. I didn’t want

to complicate my life. Let’s just make the most of your stay

here and then see what happens. As things stand now, you’re only

going to be here two weeks. The spa closes for the winter in

three weeks. I don’t want to commit myself now to go back to

America with you. We’ll take it one day at a time until then.”

“Okay,” I said. “But I know my feelings aren’t going to

change. I’ve never experienced this before.”

Switching to a note of levity she said, “After your

trainer, Tush Wertmuller, gets through with you, you probably

won’t have the strength to make love anymore. You’ve got the

toughest trainer in the spa.”

I smiled, “In that case I’ll have to kill him.”

We wrapped our arms around each other and lay there in the

now-dark room. I could smell the scent of her perfume and I

breathed it in. I was intoxicated by her smell, her feel, her

very presence. She switched on the light to check the time and

as her body stretched I placed my lips on one of her nipples and

started sucking gently.

“Robert, I want you, desperately, but you must get up.

You are expected at dinner tonight and the rules are very rigid.

I will meet you back here at nine tonight but I must leave early

in the morning. I don’t want anyone to see me here and

jeopardize my position for next year.”

I reluctantly left the bed and walked with her to the

bathroom. I ran the shower water and we stepped in together. As

we lathered each other we became aroused again but controlled

ourselves in deference to the tight schedule I was on. We dried

each other off and I marvelled at her again. As I looked at our

nude bodies in the mirror I promised myself I would work very

hard at the regime. I wanted my body to be worthy of hers. She

stood there, naked, drying her short straight hair with a towel

and I realized I had another bonus. I finally found a woman who

wasn’t afraid to ruin her hair standing under a shower. I could

have just stood there watching her dry her hair for hours. She

was such a vision. I couldn’t believe she was mine.

As she left the cottage and I dressed for dinner, I was in

a state of supreme elation. I almost forgot how hungry I was.

I walked into the dining room and looked around. It was a

pleasant, oak-paneled room with subdued lighting. There were

four round tables that could seat four at one end of the large,

carpeted room. Each had linen tablecloths and were set with fine

silverware and crystal. At the other end of the room were two

long tables for the staff. They were set less opulently than the

guest tables. A maitre d’ escorted me to one of the round

tables, at which a couple was already seated. They were a

married couple from England, both overweight and of dubious age.

I was obviously seated with them because of the language