Page 39 of Safer Alone
Angela White
Licensed Real Estate Agent
Nashville Realty
As soon as I hit send, I throw my phone down onto the bed and then I follow it. The mattress feels like a cloud underneath my body, so soft and spongy. If I were here alone, I could quite easily curl up with my book and go to sleep, however I’m technically not alone. I am a guest at the amazing home of Mr. Elliot Sands in Greenwich Connecticut.
I lay here on the most comfortable bed for who knows how long. Reliving each and every moment from this afternoon. Pretending to be partners at the airport to get Blondie to back off. The plane trip where Elliot held my hand the majority of the journey and distracted me so I would feel more comfortable. The car ride where he made his declaration that we may both no longer be single come the end of this weekend. Wandering through his beautiful home and finally, at the conclusion of the tour, the kiss. And what a kiss it was. I can’t even remember ever being kissed like that before. It was different than the other night, this time he was gentle yet firm, he took charge, yet let me match him.
I must have drifted off to sleep as the sound of loud knocking on the front door makes me sit up on the bed. Immediately I notice that the room is darker than it was when I laid down, confirming my first thoughts that I indeed had fallen asleep. Darn you bed for being so comfortable.
I jump up off the bed and make my way to the front door which I pull open. Elliot is standing there in the doorway dressed in fresh clothes. Black jeans and a green sweater. He had obviously showered and got freshened up like he had suggested I do. I see him look me up and down and a slight frown appears over his eyebrows. “You’re not ready yet?” He asks.
For a moment it crosses my mind that I couldn’t possibly tell him that I had been sleeping, after all I had no idea how long I had been asleep for. But then I wouldn’t lie to this man either. “Sorry Elliot, I laid down for just a moment after my phone call, and I must have drifted off to sleep, this bed is just too comfortable. How long has it been?”
Looking past his beautiful face, I could see that darkness was starting to settle in. I must have slept for an hour at least. “Two hours or so,” he shrugs as he says it. Hopefully he isn’t upset.
“Why don’t you come in and wait for me to get ready? I was just about to take a quick shower,” I offer. I don’t really know if I feel comfortable showering with him here or not, but I had to be polite.
“Sure, I’ll watch some television while you get ready. Take your time.” Elliot walks in, grabs the TV remote off the mantle, crosses the room to the living room, sits down and with a press of the remote, the television comes on. He begins to randomly flick through channels. Without standing around to see what he decides to watch, I turn around and head for the bedroom. I close the door behind me and then turn the lock. Not that I think Elliot would actually walk in on me. I just wouldn’t feel comfortable if he did.
I walk into the large master bathroom and find two large white towels folded neatly over the towel rails; I also notice a large fluffy white robe hanging on a hook to the right-hand side of the towels. I open the glass enclosure of the shower and turn on both taps and wait for the water to warm and steam to fill the bathroom. I step out of my pants and pull my blouse over my head, I unclasp my bra and slip my underwear down to my ankles, then kick them off. Now completely undressed, I reopen the shower door and step in. There is enough room for four people to comfortably stand within this enclosure. I shrug that thought away as the warm water washes over my skin. It feels heavenly, washing away all of the sweat and toxins from the day. I begin to run my fingers through my hair, I remember then that I didn’t bring any shampoo and conditioner with me as I washed my hair this morning.
My eyes automatically open and I take a look around, I notice on the large shelf opposite the glass door there were four, expensive looking bottles standing neatly in a row. I take a step closer so I can read the labels, shampoo, conditioner, body wash and body scrub. They appear to be completely full. I wonder if they were placed here for me. If they were, then surely, he won’t mind if I use them?
I unscrew the top off the shampoo first and pour some into my outstretched hand. I place the bottle back on the shelf and place the top back on, screwing as tightly as I can with one hand. I place my two hands together and rub gently. I lift my hand towards my nose and inhale. It smells heavenly. A mixture of vanilla and coconut, my favorite scent in the world. I quickly massage the product into my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp. Once there is a thick lather on top of my head I step back under the stream of warm water and rinse. I complete this process again with the shampoo then with the conditioner.
The body scrub is also delectable. I can feel it working to remove the dead skin on my legs where I had shaved last night. Finally, the body wash. I lather it in between my hands and then work it over my entire body. My arms and legs, stomach, breasts, throat, bottom and the apex of my thighs. I rinse the suds from my body, letting the water flow over me for a few minutes more. Not really wanting to remove myself from the stream of hot water, but knowing that I had a handsome man waiting for me made the decision that it was time to hop out.
I turn the hot tap off first, followed by the cold and then step out of the shower. I reach for one of the towels hanging on the rail and unfold it. It is almost the size of a single bed sheet. I wrap it around my body like a cocoon and begin to dry myself. I rub the towel over my hair to dry it as best I can. I wander over to the vanity and open the drawers. I am ecstatic to find a hair dryer tucked inside. I pull it out and plug it in quickly. Turning it on, I dry my hair the best I can.
Once both my hair and body are dry, I meander back into the bedroom and dress myself. I pull out my blue jeans and pink sweater. Elliot is dressed casually tonight so I figured I would do the same. Grabbing my makeup bag and hairbrush, I return to the bathroom. I pull my brush through my hair, trying to get it under control the best I can without any products. I end up giving up and throw it up in a messy bun. I quickly apply some foundation, powder, a touch of blush on my cheeks and last, some mascara. I look at myself in the mirror and I am happy at the reflection staring back at me.
I return to my bag, locate my perfume and spray once onto my wrist and once onto my neck. I put my perfume back in my bag and then press my wrists together to transfer the smell. I take two deep breaths and then walk over to the bedroom door and open it.
“I’m ready, dear” I call out in an overly dramatic voice.
Elliot leaps off the couch and turns to face me. He has a huge smile on his face and holds his arms out in front of himself, open to me. I cross the room until I am standing right in front of him. “You look great, Ange.”
I feel my cheeks redden at his compliment, immediately thankful for the powder blush that I had just applied. “Thanks, you too,” I smile up at him.
“Are you ready to go have some dinner?” he asks.
“Sure, where are we going?” I reply.
“My place” he answers with a wink. Taking my hand in his own, he leads the way back to his home, closing the door to the guest house behind us as we leave.
~ Chapter Twenty ~
We walk together hand-in-hand across the lawn toward the back patio area. As we get closer, I can see that at the center of the ten-seater dining table is a large candelabra alight with at least eight candles. It provides a soft glow around the tabletop. Through the window I can see someone moving around in the kitchen. I look beside me to where Elliot is. “Do you have your very own personal chef?” Not being able to keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice.
“I sure do, and indeed that is he, you have already met him this afternoon,” he replies. I turn to look into the kitchen again, and now that we are closer, I can see the familiar sight of the white-haired mature gentleman from this afternoon. Andrew, wasn’t it?
“That’s Andrew, isn’t it? He answers your door for you and cooks your meals. Is he your butler?” I can’t help but asking.
Elliot smiles in response and nods. “Yes, he is. He has worked for my family for fifty years, give or take a couple, and his father for years before that.” His tone is surprising, not official but warm and caring.
“You like Andrew, don’t you?” I ask.
