The Femme
People say I'm a beautiful woman. Easily the most beautiful woman in a room. In any room. Maybe it's true, but even if it is, it doesn't mean anything. Not to me, to Mrs Carol Aird.
There is one beautiful thing in my life, my daughter Nerinda or Rindy as I prefer to call her. She's the only good thing to come out of my marriage to Hargess Foster Aird. The rest isn't even worth mentioning. He picked me for his wife as if I were a rug for his living room. I, however, was far too clever to remain flat on my back. I'm no trophy wife, maybe I'm nothing although my best friend Abby won't like me to talk that way about myself.
The truth is that my life has been denegerated by mere beginnings none of which have ever taken me anywhere. Finally divorcing my husband, I'm holding on to my daughter and my best friend, my former lover. Oh yes, I do like the ladies if you must know and they seem to like me. We're everywhere nowadays, even in department stores tripping over train sets and hiding behind the plants at the Ritz lobby bar. The formerly unseen has become quite ubiqitous.
I became aware of the poor waif-like creature because of her utter clumsiness. She kept following me everywhere like a stray puppy. Abby suspected foul play right from the beginning. "It's Harge. He's put her on your tail." I found it difficult to believe my soon-to-be ex-husband's fortunes couldn't buy her a more professional spy but her words stuck with me nevertheless.
So I decided to find out who the mystery girl was. I staged a sudden car trouble knowing she would have to stop to help me. She offered me a ride and I invited her for a nightcap. Oh, and then I drugged her. It was too easy, and I felt almost sorry for her. I went through her pockets while she was unconscious on the sofa her petite frame hanging over the armrest like a sack full of dirty laundry. But I could tell she was beautiful. I opened her shirt buttons - I couldn't resist the temptation - and marveled the impeccable paleness of her delicate skin. I never looked like that.
Abby came over to help me carry her upstairs. We couldn't just leave her there because of Rindy. "So she was sitting on the sofa with her shirt open when she passed out?" Abby questioned me. I just shrugged. It could have happened. One thing bothered me, though. The girl - Therese Belivet (what a lovely name, isn't it?) - had tried to tell me something just before her lights went out.
We went through her things - briefcase, notebook, camera bag, pockets - but couldn't really find anything too incriminating as far as she was concerned. Expecting to find some sort of a log of my daily activities on the notebook, I stumbled across a sketch of my own behind. Well, I wouldn't have recognized it hardly ever seeing it myself but Abby said it was spot-on. She had also practised writing my name on its pages again and again. The briefcase was really puzzling since it didn't contain any real surveillance photos. What we found was a set of really gorgeous black and white portraits of me, close-ups every single one. We both found her very talented.
Next morning we were still arguing about what had happened. "What else could I have done?" I asked Abby. "Did you ever think she could be, well - maybe dangerous?" The thought had never crossed my mind. "Well, don't be such a nitwit about it, I can take care of myself and she seems harmless as far as I can tell." Abby couldn't believe her ears. "Oh really, Carol?"
When I saw the curtains fluttering in the upstairs windows I knew she had woken up. It was time to get to the bottom of it.
She spilled the beans, all of them. My initial anger subsided when I realized how hapless she really was. But even both hungover and trapped, she looked absolutely delicious in her skinny jeans and loose shirt. When her boss screamed at her over the phone I finally took pity on her. She wanted to make amends and I knew just the right way to make it happen. As far as her plan was concerned, I really didn't expect anything from it.
I gave her an address for a motel I've every now and then used for my so called social activities. I spent the day with Rindy having the most marvelous time ever. She was taking pictures with the pocket camera I had given her for Christmas, and for some reason it made me think of that girl and her photos. Well, she's not exactly a girl anymore, now is she? I did check her driver's license.
She came to the hotel at the exact time, and I was pleasantly surprised by her eloquence, wit and insight while explaining her plan to me. I did notice her watching me intently, paying attention to my each move as if she were sketching me inside her mind. Suddenly I just couldn't take it anymore. We'd even finished the wine bottle already. I figured it would take years for her to find the courage to make a pass at me so I decided to make it easy for her. And is there anything more forward than undressing yourself in front of a stranger? I even described her as a very beautiful stalker - she finally took the hint.
For a minute I was worried if this would be yet another sad encounter with a fumbling virgin, when she literally took me by surprise. It felt as if a switch in her head had clicked on bringing about a whole new person - someone who enjoyed sex passionately and wasn't scared to show it. She devoured me like no one I've ever known and it went on and on for hours. And yet it didn't feel like empty acrobatics to me. There was tenderness and longing in her emerald eyes when our thirst was finally quenched. I slept in her arms better than I had in years.
I went home the next morning and called Abby. She had guessed what had happened and didn't sound too happy about it. Dear, dear Abby... I spared her the details and the mood that had set upon me.
The mood... I had satisfied my curiosity with Therese but all of a sudden it didn't seem quite all there was. Am I using sex to try to find other things altogether? Some things are always vague, I guess.