She kissed him awake and handed him his soup. ‘Sustenance,’ she explained with a grin. ‘You’re going to need all the strength you can get.’
‘Hey!’ He sipped the hot soup. ‘You certainly know how to open a can!’
She laughed softly. ‘For you I’ll learn to cook.’
‘You will?’
‘Not really. But it sounds good!’
He abandoned the mug and reached for her. ‘C’mere.’
She didn’t argue. She yearned for his touch, he made her skin electric, and every caress gave her small exquisite shocks.
They experimented with each other’s bodies, teasing, holding back, testing to see who could last the longest before dissolving into orgasmic ecstasy.
‘You
are really something,’ Lennie said, meaning every word.
‘And you are not exactly a slouch yourself,’ Lucky replied, smiling.
They talked deep into the night. She told him about Gino’s tax exile and how she had taken over the family business. ‘I built the Magiriano,’ she said proudly. ‘I was twenty-five years old and female. It wasn’t easy.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘No you can’t. Not really.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘Try this.’
She wanted him in her mouth. She wanted to feel his hardness, the beat of his maleness. She wanted him in her power, under her spell.
He groaned his pleasure.
She smiled her triumph.
He confessed his once passionate obsession for Eden. How trivial it seemed now.
‘What did she look like?’ Lucky wanted to know.
‘Skinny, blonde, predatory.’
‘She sounds like a bird.’
‘She was very beautiful.’
‘Who cares?’
‘I don’t.’
He spread her olive thighs and buried his head between them. Her jet pubic hair felt like silk. She tasted of musky crushed flowers. Bittersweet.
She threw her arms above her head and murmured his name over and over until she came in heavy throbs of abandonment as he sucked her dry with feverish desire.
They slept through the rest of the night.
In the morning Gino called. She couldn’t remember what she said to him. She didn’t want real life invading her time with Lennie. Soon Dimitri would be back and things would have to be settled.
Francesca dragged on a long thin black cheroot as Dimitri’s plane flew her and Olympia toward Paris. ‘Did you ever think about having a series of slimming injections?’ she asked Olympia with harsh directness. ‘There is a clinic in Switzerland . . . they specialize in weight problems.’
‘Oh,’ said Olympia brightly. ‘Is that the place where you had your face lifted?’
Francesca frowned. ‘I have never had a face lift,’ she lied.
‘No?’ said Olympia innocently.
‘No,’ stated Francesca firmly.
Conversation lapsed. Olympia wished Flash had come with her. She could just imagine him with Francesca. What a collision!
She summoned the stewardess, a tall Swedish woman with tanned skin and an icy smile. When Dimitri travelled she gave him massages. Olympia imagined that was not all she gave him.
‘I need a chocolate fix,’ she told the Swede. ‘What do we have?’
‘Parfait, sundae, fresh berries.’
‘Strawberries?’
‘Blueberries.’
‘Dip them in chocolate sauce for me, I suppose they’ll have to do.’
The Swede flashed her icy smile and retreated to the galley.
‘Blueberries
, in
chocolate sauce
,’ admonished Francesca, fanning her horsy countenance with a copy of French
Vogue.
‘You must be desperate.’
Olympia, secure on coke, smiled. ‘Not half as desperate as
some
of the people I know,’ she said, and reached for a set of headphones.
* * *
‘How civilized,’ observed Paige, gazing at the English tea Susan had set out. There were wafer thin cucumber sandwiches, light scones with a touch of cream and jam, a ginger cake, Earl Grey tea, and fine bone china plates, cups and saucers to put it all on.
‘Tea was served on the Stanislopoulos yacht every afternoon at four,’ Susan announced proudly.
‘What a cosy little get together
that must
have been,’ replied Paige, unimpressed.
‘It was wonderful,’ Susan sighed. She
had
enjoyed the trip. She just wished she hadn’t succumbed to the Contessa’s perverted advances. ‘I wish you had been there,’ she added, fixing Paige with an intimate look.
Paige wolfed a sandwich. Hadn’t she told Susan it was all over before her trip? Surely the woman had understood her?
‘I missed you,’ Susan said, drawing closer on the pale beige damask couch. She put her hand on Paige’s shoulder. ‘Very much.’
The sound of a bee droning broke the afternoon silence. Paige shifted uncomfortably. Why were affairs so difficult to end? Male, female, there was always the final struggle.
She took a deep breath and stood up. ‘Susan, dear,’ she said, facing her perfectly groomed blonde friend. ‘I know we had something good together – once.’ She emphasized the once. ‘But time passes, and things change. I told you the last time we saw each other that Ryder and I were giving our marriage a second chance.’
Susan’s clear blue eyes, beautifully tucked and stitched, filled with tears. ‘I know, I know,’ she said, trying to control herself. ‘But I
need you
, Paige. You mean so
much
to me. We’ve meant so much to each other.’
Paige glanced anxiously at the door. It wouldn’t do to have the housekeeper eavesdrop on this little scene.
Susan followed her glance, and rose from the couch. ‘I gave the couple the rest of the day off,’ she said. ‘They won’t be back until late. And Gemma has gone to San Francisco. We are quite alone,’ she added meaningfully.
Paige nodded. One more time with Susan. A proper goodbye.
It wasn’t the way she wanted it, but it would work.
Reality invaded. Lennie had a career on hold. And commitments.
He called Jess in L.A. and listened to her yell like a deranged Indian. ‘Where
are
you?’ she screamed. ‘You told me you’d be back in twenty-four hours for crissakes. And then you fucking vanish! You start taping the new series in two days! The network is going bananas, and so am I. Where
are
you, Lennie? Christ, don’t you have
any
sense of responsibility?’
‘Calm down,’ he admonished. ‘You’ll have a heart attack.’
‘I’m too young for a heart attack,’ she replied dourly. ‘And
you’re
too young to screw up your career on account of the fact that your dick is out of control again. What happened to the stud I once knew and loved?’
‘You’re a princess with words.’
‘And you’re a major asshole.’
‘Now that we both know what we are, I called to tell you I’ll be back tomorrow.’
‘Great. Marvellous,’ she snorted her disgust. ‘What’ll you do? Go straight to the studio from the airport?’
‘I thought you said I had two days.’
‘That’s right. Today and tomorrow. There’s a script waiting at your hotel, read it on the plane. Your call is eight a.m. on Monday.’ She paused, then said, ‘Lennie.’
‘Yeah?’
‘I just want you to know that I hate you.’
He laughed. ‘And I love you.’
‘Big fuckin’ deal,’ she said grudgingly.
He hung up. Lucky sat cross-legged on the bed beside him clad in a huge sweat shirt, with knee socks and her hair in braids. Without make-up she looked like a glowingly beautiful sixteen.
‘I guess the world is creeping up on us,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘It had to happen.’
He held her with his eyes. ‘I wish you could come with me.’
She nodded, seriously, wishing the same thing, but they both knew it was impossible. Dimitri was due back with Roberto, and there was much to sort out before they could be together for the rest of their lives. They had spent hours discussing their future, and a short separation was the only way to handle it. She was going to tell Dimitri it was over. And he would contact Olympia.
‘I don’t want to leave you,’ he said, stroking her leg.
‘You think I want you to go?’ she replied. And she meant it.
He took her in his arms and cradled her gently.
She breathed his special smell and was content.
‘You’re shaking,’ he said with concern.
She snuggled closer. ‘I’m cold.’
‘We won’t be apart too long.’
‘I know that.’
‘I can fly back Friday after taping. I’ll take the Red Eye – meet you here – we’ll have all day Saturday and most of Sunday.’
She laughed softly. ‘Then I shall cook you great meals.’
‘Yeah. Stock up on cans. Your potato soup wins prizes!’
‘Wait until you taste my wild mushroom. Mister, you ain’t had nothin’ yet!’
‘Hey – lady – I’ve had the best time of my life. I want you to know that.’
She touched his cheek lightly. ‘I do know.’
They made love again, and it was more tender, more caring, than either of them had ever experienced before.
Lucky slept the night wrapped in the protection of his arms, and in the morning they awoke early and drove silently back to New York.
The idyll was over.
Marco had left her once . . .
She had never seen him alive again . . .
Gino did not like getting older. He didn’t mind it in one way because only the fortunate were still around to tell their tale. But – on the other hand – getting older sucked. Suddenly, at seventy-four, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel, and it seemed to be coming closer every day.
Unlike Costa, he was not falling to pieces. He still had his hair – mostly grey now – but thick and strong. And his teeth – all his own. And since the heart attack, no real problems. Indigestion sometimes, a recurring ulcer, an aching shoulder now and then – but nothing to get alarmed about.
While he was in New York he went to his doctor for a full check up.
‘You’re in marvellous shape,’ his physician assured him. ‘You’ve got the heart and lungs of a man of fifty.’
Screw fifty. He wanted the heart and lungs of a twenty-year-old. One’s own mortality was a frightening thing.
He flirted with the stewardess on the flight back to L.A. She had copper hair – which reminded him of Paige, and a pertly pretty face – which reminded him of Cindy – his treacherous first wife all those years ago.
She responded nicely. He didn’t know if it was because she found him irresistibly attractive, or because she sensed he was rich. It was not difficult to know. His suit was custom tailored, his shirts silk. His gold Rolex watch cost six thousand dollars. He knew if he invited her out she’d say yes in a minute. Women. Easy. The story of his life.
But he didn’t come on to her. He felt a certain sense of loyalty to Paige. Right now she had his full attention. Every inch. And there were still plenty of inches in that department.
Plenty.
Susan had disappointed him. Underneath all the grooming she was a cold one, and somehow he had never gotten through to her.
At the airport he took a cab into Beverly Hills. He should have phoned Susan and told her to send the car and driver, but he had left in a hurry due to Lucky’s unavailability, and besides, he liked the idea of surprising Susan. She wanted every move plotted and planned – a little unexpectedness would do her good.
The cab driver was foreign. He talked non-stop in broken English about every subject that took his fancy. Gino just grunted occasionally and told him to slow down when he jumped two red lights.
The man grinned and waved stubby fingers in the air. ‘I no kill you, meester!’ he joked, just missing a poor old lady who was crossing the street. ‘Jaywalker!’ the cabbie screeched from his window.
‘Prick!’ the old lady yelled back, giving both Gino
and
the driver pause for thought.
Beverly Hills was manicured, peaceful and perfect. Just like my wife, Gino thought, as he paid the driver, adding a hefty tip.
‘You a real gentlemans!’ the cabbie said, screeching off.
Two squirrels ran across the front lawn as Gino approached the house. Susan’s Rolls was parked in the front drive, and behind it was Paige’s gold Porsche.
Two for the price of one. He would get to see Paige sooner than expected.
He quickened his step and reached for his keys.
* * *
Once rid of Francesca, whom Olympia decided was the pain of the century – even worse than Lucky if that was possible – Olympia settled down to some serious shopping. She wished to return to New York with an entire new wardrobe, and Flash on her arm. The party season began in September, and she did not plan to miss one of them.