Up for Love in London (5 page)

I try to
present myself in a favourable light – curiosity and imagination,
as he said - while still harbouring self-doubts about my
suitability as a girlfriend for a man like Charles – handsome,
well-bred and immensely rich. I remind myself that the grandmother
of the future King of England was once a flight attendant.

Charles listens
attentively. He teases and taunts, questioning me about passengers,
layovers and my favourite destinations.

“Do you find it
difficult to maintain a relationship when you’re away so often?” he
asks.

“The old saying
– ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ - may have a grain of truth
in it. I like to believe that people in love can surmount any
challenges.” I take a sip of Champagne, and notice how handsome he
looks in the candlelight. “And overall, flight attendants have more
free time than someone who works a regular nine-to-five job. You
also travel a lot and probably work very long hours. Has that
affected your relationships?”

I expect him to
answer “Touché” but he takes time to think before replying.

“It has and it
hasn’t. In my situation, the media is more of problem than travel
or work. My personal life is always under scrutiny.”

“It sounds like
the airline industry. Everyone knows what everyone else is doing.
But with me, it’s not usually malicious or gossipy, it’s just
conversation and concern for your colleagues’ welfare. No one
passes judgement. Well, not often anyway.”

“So you’re used
to being under the microscope as well?” A smile forms at the
corners of his lips and I wonder if he’s joking with me.

I answer
honestly, nonetheless. “In a way, yes. I’m not saying that I like
it, only that it’s a familiar situation.”

He nods in
agreement. “I’m sure we have many other things in common.”

I wonder if
that’s a standard line for him, having heard similar ones before.
Am I just a quick conquest or is he really opening up to me?

My musings fade
with the appearance of dessert - one plate with two silver forks. A
perfect square of miniature dark chocolate cake decorated like a
jewellery box. I allow my mind to wander into the future. Wouldn’t
it be delicious to open a box like this and find an engagement ring
inside? The thought makes me smile broadly at my own ridiculous
fantasy and Charles pulls me back to the here-and-now when he
touches my hand.

“You like
chocolate, I gather?” He thinks I’m pleased about the dessert.

“Oh, yes, who
doesn’t?” I’m still beaming at my deception as I enjoy a first
bite. Even though the waiter is silent and skillful, the arrival of
coffee signals that the night is coming to an end.

I take a few
sips and stifle a yawn. Charles glances at his watch.

“I know how
horrid jet lag can be.” He leans over and lifts my chin with his
finger, directing my gaze into his deep blue eyes. “I’m going to
drive you to your hotel.”

My eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
Just like that?
My mind works
furiously for an excuse to linger with him but he insists on taking
me back. I wonder if he has a later date with someone else. After
all, it’s Saturday night and he’s probably one of the most eligible
bachelors in London. He motions for the bill, signs it with a
flourish and the next think I know, we’re inside the
Bentley.

He drives with
focus, barely speaking for the first few blocks until he drops a
bombshell.

“When is your
next trip to London?”

It’s a casual
question, but for me, the implications are immense. “Next weekend,”
I answer, perhaps a little too quickly. He doesn’t reply and I
sense he’s considering his response, manoeuvering the heavy vehicle
through twisty roads while occasionally glancing my way.

He catches me
staring at him. “I’d like to see you again,” he says, and holds my
gaze for an instant. Not a question, but a direct statement of
fact.

My heart skips
a merry beat. “That would be lovely.” We exchange knowing smiles
and I turn my attention to outside, where through the slow sweep of
the wipers, festive lights herald the promise of a happy
Christmas.

The car pulls
into the hotel driveway and Charles waves the valet away. He places
the car in park and brushes a strand of hair from my face. I can
see his eyes twinkle in the dim light. I reach out and touch his
face; a bit of stubble greets my fingertips and my heart flips.

In an instant
our lips meet. His mouth is soft but intent as it crushes against
mine. We kiss slowly, deliberately for a few moments while the
passion builds. His tongue teases my lips, gently touching my
teeth.

A
sigh escapes from deep inside me. I’m carried away with excitement,
the unexpected thrill of his scent and the warmth and nearness of
his body. I’m on my way to becoming a total, uncontrollable mess,
until I glance over his shoulder. I can see half of my crew
returning after dinner.
Damn. Think
fast.

“Charles,” I
whisper in his ear.

“Yes?”

“I’d like to
buy some bottled water. Would you mind driving me around the corner
to the 24 hours shop?” He looks perplexed but agrees with my
request. “And would you park up the way a bit? I’d like to walk a
bit, catch some fresh air before bedtime.”

Two blocks from
the store, Charles turns onto a quiet residential street. “Park
over there.” I direct him to a spot in front of an evergreen hedge,
away from the streetlights. He pulls in and switches off the
ignition, straightens his tie and reaches for the door handle.

“Wait.”

I lean over and
kiss him long and hard. His initial surprise eases and he eagerly
returns the favour. I explore his body with my hands – his strong
chest, flat stomach, firm thighs - and can feel his passion growing
with each touch.

He exhales a
low moan and passes his fingers through my hair, grabbing it firmly
while pressing his mouth to mine. He cups his hand over my breast
and squeezes gently, rubs his open palm against me before sliding
his hand down to the small of my back.

We tease each
other play like this for a while longer. The windows are steaming
up and so are we but I know we can’t return to the hotel.

I fumble around
until I find the switch to recline my seat. I can feel a smile
spread across his lips when he hears the low buzzing sound and the
seat slowly slides backwards. He flips up the steering wheel and
eases over to my side of the vehicle, our lips still locked
together.

I’m almost
horizontal and for a moment, I think about the flat beds in first
class. Charles straddles me, exposes a breast from inside my wrap
dress and rolls his tongue around my taut nipple.

I kick off my
shoes and as soon as I tug at his belt buckle, his hand slides up
my thigh, pausing briefly to caress the bare skin at the top of my
stay-up stockings. His eyes, blue-black in the dim light, flicker
with intensity and a wicked smile crosses his lips. My kisses
encourage him to continue and he pulls my panties aside.

His touch is
gentle and deliberate – a man who know which buttons to push and
when. Thoughts of his past lovers are swept away by the sheer bliss
rising inside me. I arch my back to reach him and can’t contain the
sigh that falls from my lips.

All at once, I
can feel the warm leather seat on my bare bottom, then his strong
hands lifting me as he slowly guides himself inside.

His hot mouth
moves from my lips to my neck and I can feel his ragged breathing
in my ears as we move together, giving to each other but also
taking for ourselves, our pleasure heightened by this almost public
lovemaking. He slows to my pace, ensuring I’m satisfied before
letting himself glide over the edge, his breathing fast and
heavy.

“
Oh God, Lauren, you are fantastic.” We embrace for a while,
then he kisses me fully on my lips before dropping back onto the
driver’s seat.

“You too,” I
say. But there was no time for lingering in the afterglow. “I
should get back to my hotel.”

“What about the
bottled water?”

I almost laugh
aloud, but I don’t want to reveal my ulterior motive for this
drive. “You made me forget that’s why we’re here.”

We make
ourselves decent and exit the car into the chilled night air. A
bright crescent moon breaks through a patch of cloud and a few
random snowflakes tumble from the sky. Charles offers his arm and I
loop mine through, snuggling against him as we stroll down the
quiet street. We circle the block silently, it seems neither one of
us wants to break the spell by talking.

He tries to pay
for the water but I insist, wanting to at least show some ability
to fend for myself. Once again, we’re in the hotel driveway. I wait
until he walks over to my side of the car.

He takes my hand and helps me out. “I’ll call you tomorrow,”
he says, as he pecks me on the cheek and closes the car door behind
me.
Aren’t those the words every woman
wants to hear?

“That would be
lovely. Good night Charles.”

“Good night,
darling.” And he watches as I push through the revolving doors.

Thankfully the
lobby is now empty, except for the receptionist, who nods politely
while I wait for the elevator.

Upstairs, I
roll around naked between the smooth white sheets, recalling every
detail of the evening, from the first sip of Champagne to the last
kiss, and everything in between.

CHAPTER 5 ~
Afterglow

It’s just past ten a.m. when I
awake, having slept like a baby on Valium. I emerge from the shower
and the red light on the phone is flashing. The message is from
Charles. A brief, “good morning, hope you slept well,” sort of
message. I almost drool over his smooth, classy accent before I
realize how dismayed I am to have missed him. The fact he even
called has me dancing around the room.

I bump into
Richard in the lobby and we walk to the high street for a late
breakfast of cappuccino and croissants. The sky is overcast and the
temperature is milder than yesterday.

“You seem very
cheerful this morning, Lauren. Did you have fun with Mr. Sterling?
You can rate the evening on a scale of one to ten if you’d rather
not share the details.”

“Well, where to
begin?” I say, cupping the warm mug between my hands.

“Begin at the
beginning or jump to the good parts. I’m easy.”

“We had a
lovely dinner at a gorgeous restaurant and then he drove me back to
the hotel.”

“Ho hum,” he
says and mimes a fake yawn. “I find it hard to believe you didn’t
let him nibble your ear lobe or at least kiss your hand. You’re a
very beautiful and charming woman, Lauren. Unless you’re still
pining for bad Bradley? Tell me it isn’t so.”

“Not so, on
both counts. There was some kissing involved.”

“I knew it. You
can’t fool old Richard. And…?”

“And we’re
going out again next week.”

“Next Saturday?
That’s Christmas Eve.”

“Oh God, you’re
right. Maybe he forgot too. Anyway, he left a message this morning,
so I suppose more details will emerge later. Are you here next
week?”

“Thank you for
the compliment darling. You know I’m senior enough to not work over
Christmas but flattery will get you everywhere. On the twenty
fourth, I shall be at home with my loved ones - Gordon, his mother
and the two pommies. We’re visiting my mother on Christmas day and
I’ll spend the rest of the week at the gym, sweating off the extra
weight, which is far easier to manage than guilt.”

“Oh, it sounds
like fun, Richard.”

“Exactly. It
‘sounds like’ fun. If Mr. Sterling isn’t available, I’m sure the
crew will have something planned, so there’s no need to sit in your
room, crying into your eggnog.”

We finish
breakfast and walk onto the street. “I’m going to Boots – do you
need any last-minute gifts?”

“No thanks
darling, my stockings are already stuffed. I’ll see you at pick-up
in a few hours. Ciao for now.”

We hug and
Richard walks away.

I wander in and
out of a few shops on the high street. Elegant Christmas
decorations abound, real evergreen wreaths and trees festooned with
white lights and cheerful red ribbons. No tinsel and no
poinsettias, real or fake. When it comes to the holidays, the Brits
know how to exude restrained style and good taste. I fall in love
with a magnificent floral arrangement of holly, ivy, gigantic pine
cones and hydrangeas overflowing a neo-classical urn.

The crowds’
festive mood is contagious. I’m feeling generous and scout for
gifts. Even a few simple items, like unusual soaps, chocolates and
jams, are well-appreciated by people who don’t have the opportunity
to travel much.

I meander back
to the hotel, taking a short-cut through an old church yard and
cemetery. There’s one couple strolling hand in hand before me. They
seem so obviously in love, I’m drawn to recalling the previous
night with Charles. I wonder if he will try to call me again before
I leave. Once I’m back in the room, I see there’s no flashing light
on the hotel phone; just a note under the door that our transport
to the airport has been delayed by 15 minutes. But I’m still pumped
by his earlier call as I pack my bags and head to the lobby.

During the bus
ride, I take Charles’ business card from my purse and play with it.
Should I send him an email or text message? If so, what should I
say? I opt for a brief email acknowledging his phone call and
referencing my upcoming trip.

Charles - Thank you for the lovely evening. Sorry I missed
your call. Looking forward to my next visit to London.
Lauren.
I know it sounds stilted, maybe
formal, but I don’t think I’ll win any brownie points for gushing
or sounding needy. I turn my phone off and close my
eyes.