Marienne giggled. “I’m not sure I believe that.”
“Though it wouldn’t matter nearly as much, because even if I did get it right, I wouldn’t fall asleep straight away, so then I think I’d go out and let men buy me lots of free drinks.”
She smacked him on the leg, and his eyes flashed at her, for if she’d smacked a few inches higher she’d have become aware of how much he was enjoying their conversation.
“If your goal is to spend a day with men buying you free drinks you’d better hope you spend your day inside a woman who looks like Justine,” she said.
A second passed before he heard the double meaning of her statement. She apparently caught it too, because they both roared with laughter.
Actually, I’d much rather spend my day inside a woman who looks exactly like you.
The realization hit him swiftly and was accompanied by far less guilt than he’d have anticipated, which delighted and terrified him at the same time. For the first time since these feelings had started, ages ago, he didn’t care. He was happy to be sitting there, laughing with her and for this one night he wanted to leave it at that.
****
Later, as Daniel weaved across the yard toward his house, he replayed their conversation in his mind. He never tired of being with Marienne. She was different from anyone else he’d ever known, so honest and open, yet shy at the same time. She listened like she really wanted to hear what he was saying. He couldn’t remember anyone ever being that interested in him or his thoughts, and it touched him in a way he couldn’t put into words. The more he talked to her, the more he wanted to talk to her, and that was something he’d never been able to honestly say about anyone else he’d ever met. He felt like he could tell her anything. And that made him want to tell her everything. The thought made the dizziness in his head stronger.
He crept up the stairs of his house, knowing full well that Justine would be so deeply asleep that he could be singing pub songs at the top of his lungs, and she wouldn’t awaken. The TV was on and she was tucked beneath the sheets, hair pulled away from her face, sleeping soundly, as he’d predicted.
Daniel considered going straight to bed, but knew he wouldn’t sleep yet. His mind was still a jumble, and the alcohol was too fresh in his veins. Plus he was achingly aroused. He considered getting into bed and attempting to start up with Justine, but he knew that wouldn’t go well. He’d been down that road too many times. When Justine wanted sex, she made it clear she did, and tonight she’d made it clear she didn’t.
Instead he opted for a shower, thinking the warm water might make him sleepy. He decided to use the hall shower rather than the one in the master bath, because Justine got cranky if he steamed up the bedroom while she slept. Something about too much humidity in the air. It was another thing he’d learned not to question.
He rather liked the steaminess. The air in the bathroom clouded with moisture, and he stepped under the warm spray. His fingers raked through his hair as the soothing water ran along the contours of his scalp. Though he tried to clear his mind, he couldn’t stop thinking about Marienne. The way her hair swept across her face when she bent forward with laughter. The sweet vanilla scent that lingered whenever she was near him. The mischievous gleam in her eyes when she’d said the words ‘jerking off’.
The feel of her touch on his leg.
His hand moved swiftly to his now throbbing cock. It didn’t take long, the images invoked feelings so intense he came after a few dozen hurried strokes. Relief washed over him as the sexual tension that had been building for hours spiraled down the drain. He felt more than ready for bed.
He crawled beneath the covers then felt around for the remote to turn off the flickering television. His hand closed around something long and hard, but he realized it was not the remote. It was one of Justine’s many vibrators. He snorted, shaking his head at himself for being such an idiot. It wasn’t that she hadn’t wanted sex tonight; she just hadn’t wanted sex with him. And for the first time he could honestly say he hadn’t wanted sex with her either.
****
Marienne teetered dangerously close to falling as she made her way upstairs to bed. Her head spun from both the cocktails and the evening’s conversation. She was shocked at the things she’d allowed herself to say, but not shocked that she’d been able to say them to Daniel. Never in her life had she felt more comfortable talking with another human being. It was so effortless, so natural, and ever so appealing.
She always looked forward to spending time with him. She felt like she could talk to him forever. They were in synch, more so than she could recall feeling with anyone in her entire life. And, though she hesitated to admit it, being with him made her feel sexy in a way she never had before. The way he listened to her, the way he focused on her, was more intoxicating than the margaritas.
She climbed into bed feeling slightly disgusted with herself, yet still good enough that she tried to arouse Frank. She laid her head on his chest and ran her hand down the length of his body. He stirred in his sleep, but didn’t awaken. She tried to concentrate her efforts, slipping her hand beneath his waistband. Instead of responding as she’d hoped, he snorted and rolled away, snoring in a deep even pattern.
Hurt, but not surprised, she returned to her side of the bed, and her mind drifted back to Daniel. The way he’d laughed when they were watching the movie, the way he’d stared at her, so intensely, as she told her story, the way his eyes had flashed when she’d touched his leg.
She knew it was ridiculous to think that a man like him, with a wife as beautiful as Justine, would even give a woman like her a second thought, but sometimes, just sometimes, she liked to allow herself to believe it could be true. She let her hand wander down her body and slip into her pajama bottoms. Moving slowly, so as not to shake the bed, her fingers slid lower. She was shocked to find how wet she was—all from a conversation and some fantasies. Her fingers moved with a gentle rhythm, and she allowed herself to imagine that it was Daniel’s hand. Quicker than she even thought possible she found herself silently gasping as an orgasm shuddered through her. Hovering between guilt and pleasure, she drifted into a restless sleep.
Chapter Sixteen
They were supposed to be in NYC, to meet up with Frank and Justine for the benefit, by six in the evening, so Daniel arrived at Marienne’s house at four o’clock. He knocked at the front door, but there was no answer. He was about to knock a second time when a window opened up above, and he heard Marienne’s voice.
“It’s open. Come on in. I’m sending a fax to work.”
Daniel turned the doorknob and walked into the house.
“Come on up,” Marienne called.
He’d never been upstairs to her office. He walked up, taking note of the pictures along the wall. As he moved down the hallway toward her voice, he could see her standing in the far corner room. The door was only partially open, so he knocked before entering.
“Come on in.” She smiled, feeding more papers into the fax machine. “I’ll be done as soon as this stupid thing decides to cooperate.”
Daniel turned in a slow circle taking in the images of the room. His eyes stopped as they came to rest on the antique desk, next to the rear window. While everything else appeared to be work related, this desk stood out as different.
A few colorful pastel drawings were propped against the wall at the back of the desk, one with a striking black silhouette of an intricately patterned tree painted atop it. The rest of the desk contained a pleasant clutter of pencils and pastels scattered amongst cards and knickknacks. An array of sketches was strewn along one side.
These sketches weren’t like the others. These were in pencil and seemed personal. Glancing at them Daniel recognized everything, one was the playground at the park, another was the sweeping arch of Marienne’s front porch. He noticed they were all spread across an open sketchbook. As he looked closer he saw that the bottom of the book was peeking out from beneath the drawings. On the corner of the page, a single word was written: Daniel.
He was surprised to see his name, and almost reached for the book, but stopped himself, asking first, “May I?” He knew he’d been invited in to have a look around, but he still felt like he was snooping. He was so curious to see the paper with his name on it he wasn’t sure what he’d do if she said, ‘No.’
Marienne turned toward him, and her eyes followed the line of his hand. She sucked in a quick breath when she saw that he was pointing to the sketchbook. She was normally quite confident in her artwork, and he wondered why she appeared nervous.
With wide eyes she whispered, “Sure.”
He carefully moved aside the pages. His hand froze as he saw the sketch that lay beneath them. A charcoal portrait. Of him.
“That’s amazing,” he said, unable to take his eyes off it. “I can’t believe you drew this from memory.”
“I have a good memory.” She smiled.
“I’m speechless. Well, not literally speechless, as I’m babbling, but I don’t know what to say.” He turned to glance at Marienne and saw that she was blushing. “I had no idea I was this good looking,” he added, and she laughed, which was precisely what he wanted. He didn’t want her to be uncomfortable, at all, ever.
“Well,” she said. “There’s some artistic license.”
“Clearly,” he said. “And thank you, I’ve never looked better. Though I do look awfully sad. Is that how you see me?”
“I was going for introspective, not so much sad, but the night I drew that, yes, you did seem sad.”
“What night was that?” he asked.
“The night you came for dinner while I was baking all the Christmas cookies, the night you told me about your mom.”
“Then I’d say you captured that mood perfectly.” He looked back at the drawing, still amazed by how much it looked like him, only somehow better.
“But that’s not how I always see you. Turn the page.”
He laughed as the next drawing was also of him, this time with his head thrown back, eyes twinkling, mouth wide with laughter, right hand raised and woven through his hair. Once again he felt like he was looking at a photograph rather that a drawing. He looked at his own hand then at the sketch. She had captured it flawlessly. The expression, the pose, it was all unmistakably him.
How did she do that without me posing for her?
“You’re amazing.” He was in awe, not only of her ability to put his image on paper with such beauty, but to see him with such clarity.
Marienne shrugged. “Good subject matter.”
The fax machine started chugging next to her, and she jumped. She held her hand out to catch the paper. “Finally. Contract signed. Now I can go get ready. Shit.” She glanced at the clock. “We’re late. Give me five minutes, I promise I’ll be fast. I’m packed, I just have to change.” She practically flew out of the room, yelling back to him. “You look great, by the way. You clean up good.” He could hear the smirk in her voice as he listened to her close her bedroom door.
Alone in her studio he took a closer look at the drawings, not just the ones of him, the others as well. He had known that she was talented, he’d seen her portfolio, but her personal drawings blew him away. Looking at them was like seeing the world through Marienne’s eyes and he liked what she saw, immensely.
****
Marienne rushed around her bedroom, stripping off her clothes, and pulling on her ‘good’ underwear and strapless bra. She sat on the edge of the bed and slid on her stockings as quickly as she could without poking a fingernail through them.
“Damn it.” She looked at her hands, thinking she should have remembered to get a manicure. Her nails were long and nicely shaped, but they looked plain and pale. She was sure Justine’s fingernails would be perfect, as always.
She headed into the bathroom and grabbed her makeup bag. Looking into the mirror she saw that she was flushed, enough so that she put her hand to her forehead to make sure she didn’t have a fever. She was not only cool, but also clammy.
“Ewww.” She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. She dried off then went to work on her makeup. Makeup was something Marienne enjoyed; it was drawing, on her face instead of paper. She smoothed on foundation then swept a pearly shadow across both eyelids. Within moments she lined both eyes with liner, smudged it into a smoky edge, and began applying mascara. She worked fast, but with precision. She brushed her hair and twisted it up into a loose knot at the base of her neck, securing it in place with rhinestone-covered barrettes.
She spritzed perfume on her wrists and rubbed them together. It was the same perfume she wore every day, but somehow today it smelled stronger. The scent made her flinch. She felt dizzy. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was the second time she’d gotten lightheaded in the past week.
Maybe I’m not eating enough.
Thinking back she realized she’d barely been hungry all week either.
I must be fighting off some bug.
She tossed her makeup bag into the suitcase and took her dress down off its hanger, smiling as she removed the protective plastic bag. She couldn’t wait to wear it. Three weekends of shopping with Justine had yielded the perfect find. It was a beautiful crimson satin, strapless, with a fitted waist and flared skirt, the entire dress sheathed in the thinnest imaginable veil of black lace. A wide black satin sash accented the waistline.