“I am too big to be beautiful,” she said.
“Nonsense! Whoever told you that is a fool, and blind. You are perfect. You’re spectacularly beautiful, a true Goddess amongst women. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever met.”
She stroked his cheek.
“Poor boy, you are falling in love with me, yes?”
He stared at her in undisguised admiration and infatuation, his sexual arousal obvious to all but the blind.
“I, I don’t know what I feel,” he stammered, honestly. “I only know I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”
She smiled and licked her lips. He wanted her to kiss him, as he was paralysed with desire. She was about to do just that.
The telephone rang, so the spell was broken.
“Shit!” he said, making her laugh. Her laugh was such a delightful sound that he instantly felt better. He went and answered the phone.
It was his mother checking that she was still expected.
“Yes mother, seven o’clock, as we agreed.”
“We aren’t going to that horrid little Italian place you like so much, are we?”
“No mother. I thought we’d eat in.”
“Good God, since when have you ever cooked?”
“Michelle is making something nice,” he said, grinning inanely as he said it. He met Michelle’s eyes, so she grinned back at him. He smiled, as his heart ached for her.
There was a pause.
“Who is Michelle, pray?”
“She’s a girl who has just come to work for the company. She’s staying with me until she gets her flat sorted out,” he said, and adored having one over on his mother.
“Have I met her?” she asked.
“I doubt it, not unless you have travelled expensively in the old Soviet Union. Ukraine to be precise.”
“Ukraine. Oh, Gordon what are you doing?”
“We will see you at seven. Trust me mother, you will approve, I promise,” he said, putting the phone down.
“You are a very bad man,” Michelle said, smiling at him.
“Why?”
“You tease your poor old mother.”
He laughed.
“My poor old mother is neither poor, nor old. She is fifty-one, but looks forty, and behaves like a seventeen-year old nymphomaniac at times. She wore out my father, God rest his soul, ten years ago. He had a massive heart attack whilst making love to her. She now goes through young men as if they are going out of fashion, and the last one was five years younger than me.”
She smiled, and looked around the flat. There were some nice pictures on the walls and the furnishings were obviously expensive, yet it was characterless.
“You need a woman,” she declared, and he blushed. No girl ever made him feel like a bashful sixteen-year old as she did.
“What makes you say that?” he asked, somewhat defensively.
“Your house has no soul,” she said.
He looked around. It was a very plush flat, but she was right, it lacked depth.
He then looked at her, and his entire being ached with desire for her. She looked at him and smiled. For an awful moment, he felt that she could read his mind, but then he told himself not to be so silly.
“Would you like a drink?”
“Da. Please.”
He loved her accent, as it made her seem more exotic somehow.
“You name it, I probably have it,” he said.
“Vodka?”
“Of course. Neat?”
“Nyet. With orange or tonic. We are not all barbaric alcoholics,” she said, so he laughed.
“Ice?”
“Please.”
He poured himself a whisky and her vodka and tonic. He handed it to her, and their fingers met. He felt an electric thrill as they briefly touched.
“Cheers,” he said, so she raised her glass.
He took a sip, watching the girl. He was uncertain of himself for about the first time in his life, and did not enjoy the sensation. He wanted to reach out and take her, but he knew, with a high degree of certainty that if he did so he could lose her forever.
He watched as she went into the kitchen and heard her filling a pan with water. He took another sip, feeling the amber liquid burn pleasantly on its way down. He had an erection, so felt guilty, but she had a profound effect upon him, not only sexually but emotionally as well. It was almost as if he was unable to exist without knowing that she was near. He shook his head, as if to shake away the thought. But it prevailed, and he frowned.
“I’m going for a shower, if you want anything, just help yourself.” he said, going to his room and shutting the door. He put the whisky on the side and undressed. He stepped into the shower and stood under the hot jets for a while. He closed his eyes, and could still see Michelle’s smile. He tried to think of other things, anything, but he couldn’t. He was totally besotted with her, and he recognised that his life would never be the same again.
Michelle was smiling. She had read Gordon’s mind, so acknowledged that the man was falling in love with her. She analysed her own feelings, to discover no real feelings at all. Life was almost a dream, as everything was so new that it was almost as if she was playing a computer game, so if things went wrong, she could re-boot and start all over again.
Her smile faded, as it dawned on here that this was no game, no dream, and life was for real. The surreal quality faded with her smile, as the seriousness of the situation settled on her. Yet, she was well equipped, both in experience and, thanks to the aliens, with a most efficient body. Life was to be lived, so she intended to make the most of it.
Her smile returned. Moving into the living room, she could hear that the shower was still going, so she went to her bag and picked it up. Leaving the front door on the latch, she went out into the mews, and down to the small florist on the corner.
The shop was about to shut as it was almost six o’clock, but she bought £10 worth of cut flowers, so they threw in some foliage for nothing. She walked back to the flat and let herself in again. Gordon was still in the shower.
She went to the kitchen, where she hunted for some vases. She found a couple, so attempted to do some form of flower arrangements. They were not brilliant, but better than nothing. She put the smaller one in the middle of the dining table, and the other on the mantle piece in the living room. It wasn’t much, but it made the place a little less masculine. It gave it a softer edge, and she liked the feel. The colours of the roses and chrysanthemums brought some life to the rooms, and it pleased her.
She heard the shower stop, so she tentatively explored Gordon’s mind.
He was still thinking of her, but she was rather shocked to discover he had masturbated in the shower whilst thinking of making love to her. She had not intended this to happen, and it worried her. She withdrew, wondering if she could do anything to reverse the affect she had had upon the man. She decided that any such attempt would probably aggravate the situation until she knew what she was doing. Perhaps he would lose interest and she could move on.
She sat on the sofa, picked up a magazine and flicked through the pages. She sipped her drink, wondering what Gordon’s reaction would have been had she asked for a beer.
There was an article entitled ‘Women are from Venus, men are from Mars.’, which she read with interest. She smiled, as she was from somewhere else entirely.
She looked at her watch and returned to the kitchen to start the curry. She browned the sliced chicken and then added the sauce and peppers. Turning the heat under the wok down low, she then covered it.
The smell from the kitchen gently permeated the living area, as Gordon appeared in a clean shirt and casual trousers. He sniffed the air and smiled.
“That smells fantastic,” he said.
She smiled, running a hand across his cheeks.
“You have shaved,” she said, smelling his aftershave. “You smell very nice.”
Gordon felt on overwhelming desire to take her in his arms, but managed to control it, just.
“All the better to ravish you,” he said, half joking.