Without You I Have Nothing (9 page)

BOOK: Without You I Have Nothing
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“You’ll find out -
all in good time. I have an innocent little interest that I would dearly love
to share with you.”

To save further
questions Peter changed the subject. “Are you enjoying driving this little
beastie?  I think it suits you. A dealer friend lent me this demo for you to
try out. I did promise you’d be calling on him soon. Hope I'm not too pushy. Really,
I am only trying to be helpful.”  The words tumbled out.

Jennifer said
nothing, her mind in a spin. ‘Is this man trying to control me?’

Suddenly, she no longer
cared as her feet danced a light tattoo over the controls and the car rocketed
ahead. “Well, at least I know we're not off to the trots or the casino to spend
the night gambling but after you spoke of your love of ballet, opera and
symphonies. I can’t guess where we're going. You really are a deep one.”

Following Peter’s
directions carefully, Jennifer lapsed into silence as she concentrated on her
driving.

At last, Peter
indicated that she should pull into the car park of a suburban Town Hall where
she parked the car with the thirty others. Perplexed, Jennifer could see no
reason to be there.

“Come and meet
everybody.”  Peter led Jennifer by the hand, her touch scorching his skin.

Off he marched,
leading Jennifer into the large, dimly lit building. Down darkened corridors,
they strolled until they entered a huge auditorium and made their way onto the
stage where the local dramatic society had gathered for the final casting
rehearsal of the latest production - a melodrama.

Introductions
concluded, Jennifer and Peter sat together and listened to the members
auditioning for parts. Jennifer leant close and whispered, “Why didn’t you warn
me?  All day I’ve been worrying what mischief you had planned.”

“Hope you don’t
mind.”  Peter was worried but his voice was no whisper and the director’s grunt
cut across Peter’s conversation.

“Peter, will you stop
whispering sweet nothings into that poor girl’s ear and read the part of the
villain.”

Blushing furiously,
Peter stood and began reading. This was the part he obviously wanted and he
threw everything into the words, twirling an imaginary moustache, waving the
mortgage on high and enjoying himself immensely unaware of the laughter about
him.

“Stop!  Stop, for
heaven’s sake, stop!  Jennifer, would you read the heroine’s part, please?” 
Studying her carefully, the director grinned, adding, “I know you're a visitor
but I think we’ll need someone to tame Peter and you have the look of the
demure young heroine - the lion tamer - I need.”

“I’d love to,
although I haven’t had much experience since leaving University.”

Jennifer entered into
the spirit of the play and Peter’s mind could see her bent back in his arms as,
waving the mortgage above her head, he uttered the infamous words, “Come!  A
kiss to seal the bargain.”

Later, the reading
completed and both of them with scripts in their hands, they left.

Peter was ecstatic. Jennifer
was to be the heroine and he was to be the villain. He did not care what
experience Jennifer had on the stage. As he drove all he could think of was the
perfect excuse he had to monopolize her time at least twice a week and perhaps
they would need extra rehearsals at kissing.

“Now let’s eat.” 
Peter had made up his mind.

Jennifer had a dreamy
quality in her voice. She turned to stare at Peter who wished he could stare
back into her eyes but the traffic was too dense. “You really are a devious
character, Peter. You wouldn’t tell me where you were taking me and yet you
dragged me off to one of the delights of my life. Are you a mind reader?”

There was the
slightest suggestion of laughter in her voice as she patted his arm, “Really I
don’t know how to thank you.”

“That’s easy,” was
Peter’s grinning reply but his innermost thoughts must have shown on his face
as she quickly pulled her hand back and the chill returned.

“Just be my friend -
my very best friend - my 'bestest'.”  He softly spoke with such sincerity that
the stiffness in Jennifer’s body seemed to melt. With a mischievous grin, he
continued as he threw the car keys to security. “And for God’s sake, trust me.”

She did not demure as
he took her hand and led her to the elevator where he punched the key for his
apartment - the penthouse. Although apprehensive, she didn’t hold back. She was
distinctly suspicious yet her curiosity had ultimately overwhelmed her fears
and she failed to notice how closely Peter stood, bathing in her fragrance. The
lift stopped and Peter broke into her thoughts, “All out!”

When Peter had left
earlier that evening, Mulligatawny soup (that delicious, but rarely served,
Indian Chicken broth) and a Beef Salad Thai Style were left in the fridge and
the curtains were drawn. Peter had already dimmed the lights and music - Die
Fledermaus - would play softly in the background when he pressed the switch.

Hand-in-hand they
stepped into his apartment. Jennifer seemed oblivious of her hand in his as
Peter led her through the bachelor’s pad.

“Not what I thought a
bachelor’s apartment would be,” she stammered in confusion. “I mean it’s so
neat and tidy and so... well... It is so expensive!” she could not go on as she
attempted to find the correct words.

“Oh, don’t be fooled.
It took weeks of cleaning to get this place tidy, hoping you’d come. I had to
do something to make it presentable.”

“You do tell such
lies.”  Jennifer was no fool. “This apartment just screams of the care and
attention you’ve given to its furnishings. Is that a picture of your parents?” 
She pointed above the fireplace.

“Yes.”  Peter was
very brusque.

“What a beautiful
woman and he’s so handsome in his RAAF uniform. He’s a squadron leader, is he
not?”

“He was actually a
Wing Commander!”  The anguish in Peter’s eyes was enough to warn Jennifer not
to continue on that topic.

“What an unusual
plaque under their photograph. Those little, crossed swords look dangerous. What
are they and what does the inscription say?”

“They're Gurkha
knives called kukri and the badge is the crest of a Brigade of Gurkhas. That
inscription is private and I beg you not to ask anything further.

“My parents are dead
and I am alone. This apartment was their last gift to me

“You are the first
woman I have ever invited to share my home even if only for a few brief minutes.
You're the only female I’ve escorted through that door and I'm deeply honored. Inspect
the apartment. Inspect all the rooms while I prepare us a little something to
eat.”

Jennifer’s squeal
stopped him in his tracks. “You do play chess!  I didn’t believe you but you do
play chess and these pieces are exquisite. The carving is delicate and it’s
solid ivory not fishbone. It’s very old because the world has now banned trade
in ivory. You must have saved up forever to purchase this set. I can’t play but
at least I know these pieces are not only valuable but they are for use. They
are not decorations. If only I could play.”

“I’ll teach you.” 
Peter rushed to volunteer but there was more than chess on his mind. There was
so much he would love to teach her.

That perfume of hers
was insidious as it reached out to entice him. Her voice just burnt into his
heart.

“But I'm a bad host,
please make yourself at home. My home is your home. Have a look around.”

He raced back to the
kitchen shouting as he went, “If the young memsahib would be seated. Oh, there
are four bathrooms if you wish to freshen up. There are clean towels in all of
them.”

“And the biggest
Jacuzzi I have ever seen in the master bathroom, and that bed in the master
bedroom is absolutely gigantic. How do you sleep in it?”

“That’s not my room. That’s
for my wife and me - should some woman be silly enough to say yes. That’s my
dream room, my prayer room where I ask God to help me in my life as I search
for a partner to love, cherish, honor and yes - obey.”

Peter’s eyes clouded
but then he shook himself before continuing, “I sleep in the third bedroom. Would
like some wine with your meal?”

“A light wine would
be acceptable.”

Peter breathed a sigh
of relief. “Thank God Bob insisted the bar is always full so he and Ted never
go thirsty, otherwise you’d be restricted to iced water, tea or coffee and I
can’t make good coffee.”

Jennifer noticed he
poured wine only for her and he toasted their success at the play reading in
iced water. She looked even more suspicious when he smiled and joked.

“I'm not trying to
get you drunk so I can seduce you. I’d prefer that you remain sober and seduce
me.”  Well, at least Peter thought it was funny, but Jennifer was not amused.

Realizing his gaff he
continued, “To be truthful, I have a low tolerance of alcohol. I can’t drink.”

As he seated
Jennifer, the curtains silently slid open and he placed the meal of
Mulligatawny Soup, Beef Salad Thai Style and Nasi Goreng (Indonesian Fried
Rice) before her. Her eyes were not on the food, as he made certain she noticed
he gave her a fork and spoon as fitting a Thai meal.

She sat open mouthed
as the sails of the Opera House came into view and the fairy lights of Circular
Quay with its ferries began twinkling. She said nothing but turned to stare at
Peter. In silence, she began to eat, periodically turning to resume her
inspection of her dinner companion.

Peter started the
music and the strains of Die Fledermaus gently filled the air. His eyes began
to fill, as he so desperately wanted to touch her. The food was of no
importance.

“Kick your shoes
off,” was his command and startled, Jennifer did just that.

He pulled her chair
back and lifted her like thistledown into his arms just as the waltz Dui Du
struck up. Peter’s rich baritone voice startled her as he began singing. She
floated in his arms high above the Opera House and the ferries.

The lights dimmed
even more.

Her head was on his
chest and, as he sang, he repeatedly kissed her hair. When the waltz died away,
she looked up into his eyes as if expecting a kiss but Peter was unable to
trust himself and merely kissed her eyelids before leading her back to the
table.

Once Jennifer sat, he
knelt before her and, taking both her hands in his, kissed them gently. “Thank
you, Jennifer. I’ve always dreamed of doing that and you’ve made my dreams come
true.”

Peter’s voice was so
soft and gentle Jennifer had to struggle to hear the words.

The meal was
finished.

“It’s time to take
Cinderella home. Otherwise, this Prince Charming will turn into a frog.”

Desperately Peter
tried to make light of the ending of their night, which had meant so much to
him. Jennifer liked his music. She wanted to learn to play chess and she was
the heroine in the melodrama. Peter’s life was complete.

In the car, he almost
spoilt the night when he allowed his sense of humor to surface. “Put your knees
closer to me. I would rather play with your knees than change gear.”

Although the Ice
Maiden returned briefly, Jennifer smiled indicating that she was beginning to
relax to his sense of humor.

He believed he had
Jennifer’s friendship and, as he escorted her to the door, he knew he wanted
more than just friendship and ached to kiss her. Terrified of drowning her in
the sea of fire that a kiss would ignite, he merely kissed her hair and quietly
left.

Jennifer crept to her
bed and lay there staring at the ceiling talking to herself. ‘Peter, you are
everything I dreamed of in a man - yet you are not a man - not a full man. You
lift me in your arms, you dance with your arms around me and I am safe. My body
knows you're a man. Yet you bring me home and don’t attempt to kiss me - why? 
I'm falling for you, Peter and I can’t afford that luxury. I can’t fall for a
gay man.

‘There’s something
seriously wrong - why the dark shadows in your life?  I see your parent’s
picture and your eyes show the horror and hurt and I dare not question. The
plaque showed strength, not weakness, and again your eyes showed hurt and you
denied being able to read that inscription but the twinkle around your eyes
belied your words.’

She rolled into a
ball as she continued. ‘That picture was so lifelike. Was it a picture or a
painting?  Your mother’s eyes seemed to stare into me and to follow me and she
seemed so happy with me.

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