Claudine (22 page)

“To tell you the truth, Andrei, I’ve had better sex with my clients. I just don’t want you that way. Could we please call a halt to this?”

A moment of hurt flared in Andrei’s eyes but he persisted. “Look. If you’re still upset about this morning, let me apologize. I was mad, said things I shouldn’t have. I know what happened to you at the orphanage. It was all documented when Ceausescu died and the new government took over. They investigated your father’s death. When I started to work for you, I checked the transcripts. Children like you who are molested often end up damaged and drawn to prostitution. It’s not your fault.”

Maria’s temper flared again. “What you’re really saying is I’m a whore, but you’re big enough to understand how I got so messed up.”

Andrei sighed with exasperation. “That’s not what I meant at all. You’re turning my words inside out.”

“No. You had to come up with some explanation for why I could open my legs so willingly. At the drop of the hat. For money. Men can do that any day and they boast about it. The more women they have, the more they’re admired. When a woman does it, she’s a slut. I saw that box of condoms in your drawer. How many women have
you
taken to bed lately? Well, I’m like a man. My clients are notches on a very tall bedpost. I take them for what I can get and don’t even remember their names. Or faces. You think that’s vulgar. An emotional illness. Self-destructive. But only if a woman does it.”

He blanched. “What do you want from me, anyway, Maria? To watch me burn? You expect men to walk over hot coals for you. And when they do and you hear the skin on their feet sizzling, you pretend you were never interested in the first place.”

“Yeah. It’s a badge of honor the way a brand-new man swoons over me. I love the feel of his cock sliding into me. I enjoy a little bit of strange. Don’t you?”

“That’s just crude. It’s beneath you to talk like that.”

“I’m not ladylike enough—is that what you mean? Well maybe. But I’m never bored. I never have to turn over in bed and wish the man beside me would just go to sleep because I ceased finding him attractive about six months after the wedding. Or standing by, the faithful wife, knowing he’s surreptitiously humping on his lunch hour between business meetings. I don’t have that problem and I hope to God I never will.”

“Tell me something. Does the idea of love ever enter into your mind?”

“Sure it does. When I find a man who doesn’t judge me I’ll invite you to the wedding—it could be a long wait.”

She’d totally flattened him. Her warring words gave him not
an inch of room to move. He did not seem angry. Simply numb, as if his veins had just been shot full of Novocain.

He barely looked at her as he headed toward the door. “You accused me this morning of indulging in a fantasy about you, Maria. And I see now that’s true. Thanks for straightening me out. Send me whatever papers you think are necessary. Our association is over.”

If he’d hoped to see her relent over the prospect of losing him, he was doomed to disappointment. Instead, she gave him the haughty tones of Claudine. “Glad to. It won’t be that difficult to find another chauffeur.”

“A chauffeur, is it?” He emphasized his words with a cynical laugh. “Well, good luck with that.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and at once Maria felt as if everything of substance inside her was dissolving. She’d spoken too sharply. His mention of childhood abuse lit a fuse inside her and she couldn’t stop the chain reaction. In truth she’d often questioned whether those assaults lay at the core of her fascination with the erotic. Yes, she was a lustful woman. But the sexual power she had over men met some deep need inside her too. And the money it brought was its own reward.

But now, with Andrei gone, all she felt was a cramping, deadening melancholy.

The way she’d felt when the frightening strangers first took her to the tiny village called Siret.

CHAPTER
24

In the following days, as May faded into June, Maria and Lillian danced around one another, avoiding the topic of Andrei. Lillian kept her thoughts about it to herself. As good as his word, Andrei sent all the digital business files; she in her turn gave him a generous severance. That included her BMW.

She remembered the nights he’d take her out for a drive. They’d leave the city and find a stretch of country where Andrei could coax the car to perform to its max. She’d get a favorite music CD from the compartment and feed it into the CD player, turn up the sound. She loved the speed, the night wind whipping through her hair from the window she kept open. She couldn’t imagine riding in that car again with some other man’s hands on the wheel.

She bit back tears when she signed the severance check, wishing her tongue had not been so ready to fling acid, even if
she’d told him the truth. She’d had no choice. Nothing could be gained by allowing him to entertain illusions about love.

She canceled all five appointments scheduled over the next two weeks, citing an urgent family matter, and was pleased when all the clients rebooked. One wanted her to role-play as Madonna. In her present mood she couldn’t get worked up about it.

With grim determination, she plunged headlong into reorganizing her life, welcomed it as a way to keep her mind off Andrei. He’d left the files in good shape, although it took a lot of time to set up her own system. She hired an older, married man with a security background as driver and guard. She hit the gym early every day and pushed herself to the extreme till her muscles screamed. Mornings were devoted to business affairs and the rest of the time to her thesis, twelve-hour stretches that barely left her time to eat. She took one break a day to walk in the park at sunset when the shadows of the giant old trees stretched across the rocks and pathways, pools of darkness in the waning light. On one of these walks she found a pile of gray feathers strewn on the ground. She picked one up, running her finger over the soft down. Some little bird had ended up in the park hawk’s talons.

As if he sensed an opening in her heart, Reed Whitman called daily. She agreed to have dinner with him. The air positively crackled in the apartment with Lillian’s disapproval, but she said nothing and did her best to help Maria get ready for her date. It was always fun to get glammed up for a personal occasion instead of for a performance. She chose a simple but stunning dress in black georgette, given to her by a top New York designer when she’d been a featured guest model at a charity fashion show fund-raiser. She added her favorite red-soled black
pumps and a pair of diamond earrings that glittered brilliantly when they swung from her earlobes. Lillian carefully painted on fire-engine red nail polish and matching lipstick, but her hand trembled as she applied the lip color. She left a smear at the corner of Maria’s mouth.

“I’m so sorry,” Lillian said in exasperation. “I thought I could at least manage that.”

“No matter, Lil. You did fine. It will take time.” She reached for some makeup remover and dabbed at the smear. It left a faint pinkish trace.

“Andrei left town.” Lillian said, almost as an afterthought, while she tidied the cosmetics on the counter. “I thought you should know.”

“For good?” Maria’s breath stilled.

“I got the impression it’s just going to be an extended vacation.”

“Oh, that’s great. He deserves one. I don’t think he ever took more than a week off all the time we worked together. Did he ask after . . . say . . . anything else?”

“Not really. I called him to get the name of this new skin care product I’d heard about. One of his friends imports it. She’s a cosmetician. But he was in a hurry. They were leaving for JFK that morning.”

“He was going with someone?”

“The cosmetician. That’s what I meant. I needed her e-mail address before they left.”

Maria smoothed her hair. It was starting to look brittle and washed-out. “That’s fine, Lil. You’ve been a great help—thanks.” She put on a cheery smile as Lillian packed up her things and
left, while raging jealousy clawed away at her insides. She stared at herself in the mirror. The dressing table lights, five bright round halogens, revealed a minuscule wrinkle at the corner of her eyelid. She touched it, then took out a bottle of skin enhancer. The retinol would puff out the skin and make the wrinkle vanish. But how long would it be before her lids turned crepey, beyond the power of the retinol to fix? Before tiny crevices permanently marred her lip line?

She imagined the Russian “friend.” Young. Younger than her. Bubbly personality. Huge boobs. All Russian women were stacked—weren’t they? Orgasmed easily. Probably had two or three a night.

Anger felt better than sadness. Depression drained the energy out of her. She made up her mind that nothing would interfere with her date with Reed.

The doorman called up; Reed had arrived right on time. When Maria stepped off the elevators, she saw Reed chatting with the tangle-haired woman who’d made disparaging remarks to her in the elevator a few weeks ago. She could tell by the woman’s body language, the way she simpered and preened, how hard she was trying to impress him. This should be fun, Maria thought.

She walked toward them with a leisurely swing of her hips. Reed’s face lit up when he spotted her. The woman turned her head to follow his gaze. Her jaw dropped. Reed put his arm around Maria and gave her a light kiss on the cheek. “You two know each other, I imagine?”

Maria tipped her sunglasses down and looked over them. “I don’t remember whether we’ve met. I moved in recently. Do you live here?”

“On the top floor,” the woman stuttered.

“Oh, how lovely.” Maria gave her a fake smile and turned to Reed. “We’d best be off, then, hadn’t we?”

Reed bid the woman good-bye, tightened his arm around Maria as they walked away. “Friend of yours?” he teased.

“She has an attitude,” Maria said politely, and he chuckled. She loved New York on hot summer nights. The steamy smells of overheated pavement and gutters, everyone out on the streets, hawkers pushing their merchandise until well past midnight, restaurants overflowing, the torrid burlesque of neon signs and lights—on the street, in the store windows, at the peaks of roofs, on the caps of soaring high-rises.

Reed hailed a taxi. “I had a fun idea for tonight if you’re game.”

“Game for anything,” she said, his good spirits already lightening her mood.

“It’s so nice out. Let’s walk on the High Line for a while. I know an amazing place for dinner in Chelsea. New start-up. Invitation only. No walk-ins.”

“Sounds brilliant.”

The taxi let them out at Twentieth Street and Tenth Avenue. They climbed the flight of stairs to the old elevated rail line the city had converted to a linear park.

“These shoes weren’t made for walking,” she joked as they reached the top.

Reed grinned. “Well then, my lady, we’ll just have to do something about that.” He guided her to a bench cloaked on either side with greenery, knelt and slipped off her shoes. Then he removed his own loafers and socks. “Nothing wrong with going barefoot.”

The boardwalk and patterned stonework were kept scrupulously clean by park attendants, so they had no worries about hurting their feet. Maria laughed as Reed took her hand once more. She loved catching glimpses of the city below, through gaps in the young trees and grasses bordering the walkway, the angles of building tops looming so close you could almost touch them; one was decorated with artful graffiti. A skateboarder whipped past moms and dads with kids in strollers, babies strapped to their chests, an old man with a parakeet perched on his shoulder.

Reed held her hand. “I’ve missed you like hell, lady. What have you been doing with yourself all this time?”

“Recovering. I fell. Ended up with a concussion. How stupid is that?”

“Oh shit. Is everything okay?”

“Fine. I still get brutal headaches but not so often.”

His tone deepened. “I looked for you on campus every day.”

“I’ve been working at home since my injury. Thank heavens I’d finished the course work before. Now it’s only the thesis ahead.”

“That’s right. You never sent me a draft. Thought you were going to.”

“I’m not there yet. It’s still too raw. But I will. Thanks for remembering.”

They reached the foot of the promenade, stuck their feet back into their shoes and descended the stairs. On the platform halfway down, Reed stopped, pinned her body against the railing and kissed her again. The touch of his lips spurred the memory of Andrei’s mouth on hers, and she felt a painful pang of loss. She pulled back.

He raised his eyebrows. “Too public here?”

“Oh, no.” Maria recovered herself. “When you tilted my head back, it hurt a bit, that’s all.”

He hadn’t released her, his arms still held her close so her breasts pressed up against his shirt. She could feel his erection bulge into her crotch. “Damn, I’m sorry. I’ll be more considerate.”

“No worries. The ache’s already going away.”

“Right now I’d like to skip dinner and just carry you home with me.” He searched her face hoping to find the answer he wanted.

“And what are your plans once we get there?” Her lips turned up in a foxy smile.

He bent his head to whisper in her ear. “Strip you naked and fuck like there’s no tomorrow.”

She hesitated. Do it, she said to herself. It’s the only way you’ll get this crazy obsession with Andrei out of your system. “That sounds like a better deal than dinner.”

Reed owned the building where he kept his Midtown apartment. In the lobby he strode over to one of the two elevators in old-style ornamental bronze and punched in a code. He ushered her through when the doors opened. “This elevator’s reserved for my place. On the top floor.” Halfway up he pressed the Stop button. The elevator jerked to a halt.

He pulled her to him. She ran her fingers through his salt-and-pepper curls and opened her mouth to his kiss. He lifted her dress up to her waist, rolled down her skimpy black lace panties to midthigh. She spread her legs and lifted her bum as he slipped his fingers into her wetness.

She sucked in a huge breath. Felt a pleasant weakening in her limbs. He unfastened her earring and nibbled her ear lobe, kissed
her neck. His breaths came faster. “Christ,” he said fiercely, “the one time I don’t have any protection on me.” Maria was panting when he withdrew his hand and tucked her dress back down. On the rest of the ride up, his words
the one time
rolled through her mind.