Pack of Wolves
”You left me alone!” Carol hissed between her teeth as she and Therese sat down at the dinner table.
“Relax, I kept my eye on you all the time,” Therese replied unfazed by her hurtful tone. “I had to check out the seating plan to see if it’d been rigged…” She lowered her voice further. “It was so I rigged it right back.” She tapped the white tablecloth with her index finger – it pointed at Megan who was sitting on the other side of the table. She wasn’t a happy camper. In fact she was seething with suppressed anger. “I was supposed to sit over there.”
Realizing the close shave she'd just had, Carol gulped. “Thank you…” was all she managed to mumble in return.
“Don’t mention it,” Therese replied focusing her attention on Megan instead. If looks could kill, both women would be decimated in a matter of seconds, occurred to Carol. She’s just doing her job, she thought stealing a look at Therese. The things she must’ve seen in her life.
“What is this?” Abby questioned seeing them next to each other in the dinner table. “I’m quite sure I placed Lauren right next to Carol, not you, lover girl…” Being the woman of the hour, Abby was the only one to get away with a quip like that.
Wrapping her left hand around Carol, Therese flashed a wicked smile. “Never gonna happen.” Her right palm landed on Carol’s thigh and gave it a noticeable squeeze. At least Abby and Carol were paying attention. “If you don’t mind…”
Shooting a bemused glance at her friend, Abby was clearly taken aback by Therese’s lewd gesture. “Whatever you say, my dear,” she capitulated as if knowing it would be futile to push any agenda with her, let alone one dealing with a seating plan.
Carol stared at the plate and the silverware in front of her shockingly aware of Therese, of her hand, her perfume and the sweet cloud of surrender it seemed to waft over those who crossed her path. She studied the dish adorned with the Gerhard family emblem and found solace in the unpretentious elegance it displayed. Seeing the distinguished cutlery in its proper place had such a sobering effect on her agitated mind she managed to bring the water glass on her lips without spilling a single drop in the process. There’s comfort to be taken in orderly things, she thought solemnly. When Therese finally removed her hand from her lap, she breathed a sigh of relief and she was happy to do so – even if it was tinged with something resembling sadness.
Soon after the waiters brought the first course in. Each guest was presented with an entire, boiled globe artichoke and a small bowl of butter sauce accentuated with parmesan and lemon. It was simplicity itself but a fitting one – “Only to whet our appetites for what’s to come after,” Abby explained raising her glass of Sauvignon blanc.
“I love this South African one you’ve come up with, darling,” Megan complimented Abby, “As we all certainly know, artichokes are notorious psycho wine killers.” Glaring at Therese, she pulled off one of the outer leaves of her green globe and stuck it into the hot butter.
“Funny she should use the word psycho…” Therese whispered to Carol paying close attention to the way Megan hollowed the juicy leaf with one angry suck. Seeing the green debris pile up on the redhead’s plate, Carol snorted at Therese’s witty remark. She felt relatively safe sitting next to her, at least for now.
“How’s one supposed to eat… this?” Therese asked quietly after Abby had launched into an impromptu and rather uncalled-for lecture on her choices of wines for the night.
“You pick a leaf like this,” Carol replied discreetly pulling one off of her vegetable. “Then you dip the broken end into the sauce and voilà…” The green petal vanished inside her mouth only to reappear the next moment. Furrowing her brow, Therese looked nonplussed.
“Here, let me help you…” Carol continued empathizing with her companion’s hesitation. She pulled out another leaf and prepared it for Therese. “Open your mouth,” she asked kindly, “take it between your teeth ever so gently and use them to nibble the flesh off the bottom…” The buttery nugget slid inside Therese’s mouth almost drawing Carol’s fingers in with it.
The tips of Carol’s thumb and forefinger bumped against Therese’s lips but she managed to hold on to the leaf nevertheless. “Now let me pull it out slowly while you suck out the juicy part, okay?” Therese’s eyes smiled as she nodded her agreement. She finished the task gazing at Carol all the way through.
“How adorable…” Megan retorted viciously, “Anyone got a bib? I think we’ll need one once the sugar mama starts spoon-feeding her young.” Carol flinched at the sheer venom of her words.
“Megan!” Abby interjected appalled by such an undeserved insult. Visibly shaken, Carol got up and left the room in haste. Tears were stinging her eyes but she was sure as hell not going to break down before Megan and her like.
As Abby was about to follow her, Therese stood up and motioned her to sit down. Before she hurried after Carol, she cast a furious glance at Megan who didn’t seem affected in any way by what had just happened.
“Carol? Are you okay?” Therese found her standing by the terrace doors in the parlour. Carol was looking out her vision distorted by both her tears and the hand-blown glass panes.
“Did you know that all the dubious food that demands ridiculous amount of effort to be consumed – like digging snails out of their shells or extracting juicy tidbits out of plumb leaves – was never something the poor people opted for?” Carol said trying to keep her voice level.
“No, I didn’t.” Therese replied simply.
“The poor never had the time to dillydally with their food, they wanted it hearty and as plentiful as possible,” Carol continued. “Only the rich could afford spending countless hours in something as frivolous as that.” She sounded bitter and angry. “And still we seem to have far too much time in our hands.”
“I did like that leaf though,” Therese said taking a step closer. “Before tonight my idea of an artichoke was limited to those pale lumps swimming in brine.” She was finally standing next to Carol. “I like to learn new things. Thank you for showing me what a marvel a small green petal can be.” She smiled warmly at Carol who only now felt brave enough to meet her gaze.
The lights turned dim and void of previous hurly-burly, the parlour was an enchanting place. Time has stopped here, Carol mused, it has become redundant. When she looked at Therese running her fingers over the spines of the endless rows of books, she thought she saw something timeless in her as well. Therese was not in a hurry to go anywhere. She was perfectly at ease with the present, so completely focused on the moment at hand it left an indelible, delightful mark on Carol. She didn’t recognize it as an epiphany of any kind, only as a burning wish to know more about her. Much more.
“I guess we ought to return to the table,” Carol spoke knowing their absence to be far too conspicuous by now. She was repelled by the idea but she knew it couldn’t be avoided. Therese, however, was quick to catch the hesitation on her face.
“You must not let her get to you like that,” Therese said softly. “As long as she smells blood, she’ll keep attacking you till you cave in.” Puzzled, Carol didn’t know how to take her assessment of the nightmarish situation.
“Let me put it this way: imagine that we are dealing with a pack of wolves here,” Therese elaborated, “a pack of she-wolves who have all pretty much slept with one another, right?” Carol didn’t know for sure but according to Abby’s past, racy recollections something like that might have very well happened. She acquiesced to nod.
“Our beloved Megan here is an alpha, and she yields a considerable power over the other ladies,” Therese continued, “That’s why hardly anyone has stepped in to protect you so far.” Smirking, she tilted her head to one side as if to make a quick estimate of Carol.
“You’re an alpha as well, make no mistake about it,” Therese stated grinning unabashedly. “At the risk of getting my bestial metaphors hopelessly mixed, I’d say you are a lioness and your presence is a threat for someone like Megan. She wants her women housebroken.”
Carol opened her mouth to object but failed to come up with anything worth saying. Therese, on the other hand, was all too eager to continue. “We need to tip the balance here,” she pointed out taking a first step towards the dining room, “and we will – you just need to trust me with this one.” Noticing how Carol made no attempt to follow, Therese extended her hand to her. “Are you coming?” Their fingers met, prepared the way for their palms to fuse definitively.
“What about you?” Carol asked apprehensively as they approached the noise of the dining room. “Are you an alpha as well?” She knew her question was far too personal yet she had to ask it.
“I don’t subscribe to that dynamic,” Therese said determinedly. “Or to any kind of herd mentality for that matter.” She paused for a second. “Not anymore.” Another skipped beat. “Being a lone wolf has its perks,” Therese murmured giving Carol’s hand a provocative squeeze.
The dinner went on without further interruptions. A ceasefire of a sort had been evidently negotiated while Carol and Therese had had their private moment in the parlour. The Lobster Thermidor prepared by Abby’s long time chef or rather surrogate mother, as Margaret herself never quit reminding her, mellowed the tongues as well with its impressively elegant, refined aromas.
“So, Therese, tell us a little bit about yourself,” Genevieve initiated her brown eyes lit with kind interest. “What is it that you do exactly?” Leaning forward to hear better, she gave Carol an encouraging smile.
“I study photography,” Therese replied courteously, “I have two more years to go, and then I’m hoping to find work in the field and maybe an opportunity to showcase my more ambitious stuff as well.” She picked up her goblet of wine to enjoy a generous mouthful of Bandol rosé.
“Have you already exhibited your work?” Genevieve asked raising her eyebrows. “You look awfully familiar…” she continued pensively.
“No, I haven’t,” Therese was quick to clarify, “I haven’t even put together a decent portfolio yet although I do have a lot of material to choose from.” She seemed eager to concentrate on her lobster claws but Genevieve wasn’t done with her yet.
“I could swear I’ve seen you somewhere…” Gen insisted, “It’s almost like I know you from some previous occasion.” She turned to Abby. “Say something, honey, doesn’t she look familiar?”
Downing her Chablis, Abby shook her head and patted Gen’s hand. “Beats me, baby.” She, for one, had no recollection of ever having had the pleasure of bumping into Therese Belivet before this very evening.
“I hardly ever forget a face, least of all one so soulful and stunning,” Gen said wistfully, “but I guess I’ll have to rely on the good old subconscious to do its work…” She kept staring at Therese as if the answer to her riddle could be readily derived out of the classic features of her fair face.
Carol had followed their conversation with growing trepidation. Gen’s prying into Therese’s private life had already been troubling enough but her stubborn insistence of recognizing her by some earlier happenstance sent her reeling with worry. Besides Therese wasn’t taking this intrusion to her privacy well at all. Luckily their dialogue hadn’t attracted all that much interest among the rest of the women, Carol noted with relief. At least Megan seemed to be enjoying a light-hearted chitchat with her ex-lover Sandra. Megan. She would have a field day with Therese’s real identity should it be revealed with all of us here.
“Listen, everybody!” Abby tapped her glass with a spoon at the end of the dinner.
“Speech! Speech!” The women roared fuelled by their intoxicated spirits. Knotting her brow in mock disapproval, Abby raised her hands to quiet everybody down.
“I am not going to give a speech nor is anyone else for that matter,” she declared in her gregarious manner. “What we are going to do now is to retire to the salon for…” She waved her hands in the air like a conductor coaxing a crescendo out of her fine-tuned orchestra.
“PARTY GAMES!” The choir of inebriated women exclaimed in unison.
Carol looked at Therese and for the first time that night she saw a faint glimmer of fear in those dark green eyes.
Shit.