Thursday, January 13, 2011
The chocolate-colored Mercedes made short work of the journey to London. Andreas had a chauffeur now; nevertheless, he chose to sit in the passenger seat in the front going through some papers.
Alone in the back, Helena looked out of the window and sometimes at the back of Andreas’ head. She saw the familiar, and yet at the same time, foreign, tiny curls of dark blond hair that grew down his neck; the exposed flesh was tanned and smooth and the collar of his white silk shirt fit snugly, disappearing under the rich material of his navy jacket.
He was the only man she had ever known intimately. The thought created a stirring in her lower stomach, causing her to move restlessly against the cream-colored upholstery.
“Don’t do this to me,” she silently implored her traitorous memory. It was warm in the car, it was teasing out the scent of the shaving lotion Andreas used, a familiar one that she remembered he liked. If only she could talk to him …. It would take her mind of these sensual memories, but she could think of nothing to say and so she moved along the seat, trying to stem the heated thrusts of her body. Only in her dreams had she had these erotic stirrings. Andreas had been a skillful and unforgettable lover. Looking at him now, she could remember vividly their sensual moments. It was horrible, she told herself and tried to drive the thoughts away but they would not go; they stayed a long time and she fidgeted through most of the journey, the only consolation being that at least he was not sitting next to her.
Fortune's Folly Published by Whiskey Creekk Press.
Available from www.whiskeycreekpress. www.amazon.com www.fictionwise.com
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at 4:21 AM