“Bet you smell that cookie, right?” I ruffle his fur.
He accompanies me, still yipping, as I approach the front desk.
“Maurice, do you think there’s any chance of a massage today?” I ask. “I’m totally stressed.”
“Let me call down and see.” He speaks into the phone, and a moment later, he nods. “Yes. The spa is delighted to accommodate you.”
I thank him, dashing upstairs quickly to drop off my things.
“Ah, Ms. Bismark,” says a girl in a crisp white uniform as I enter the spa.
She’s beautiful in that effortless French way. Her hair is up in an elegant chignon, her white uniform perfectly tailored, and her makeup absolute perfection.
And she doesn’t even have an Antoine as her stylist. Damn these French girls and their natural beauty.
“Let me show you to the locker room where you can relax before your appointment.” She gestures down the hallway.
Just as I turn to follow her, the door bursts open and Slayer enters the room—a heavy, dark force in this delicately perfumed, airy space.
“Bix. What are you doing here?” he asks.
“Trying to relax,” I say pointedly. “I booked a massage.”
“So have I,” he says, looking at the attendant.
“Yes, Mr. Slayer. We tried to call to confirm several times today. But as we hadn’t heard from you, we assumed you weren’t coming.”
“You’re hearing from me now.”
“Yes. But we gave the appointment to this young lady. And there’s only one per massage room.”
“Is there another masseuse on duty?”
“I can check, but?—”
“We’ll share a room, won’t we, Bix?” he says. “This beauty is my girlfriend.”
I manage a smile and a nod.
The attendant looks between us for a moment. “Ah. Well then. Let me show Ms. Bismark to the locker room, and I’ll come back to check you in, sir.”
Decorated in white and gold, the locker area resembles a private club designed by Marie Antoinette.
The attendant shows me my locker, which curiously smells of toasted wood, while the thick, fluffy robe inside it smells fresh from the dryer.
“Down there you’ll find spa shoes,” she says. “The steam room is that way. Its walls are covered in amethyst.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Healing energy. Our guests love it. They feel energized after the sauna.”
“Oh, okay. I’ll try it.”
Left to undress, I carefully remove the sundress Antoine purchased for me. Here’s hoping I can keep all Antoine’s goodies when I’m back in NYC.
I regard my nude figure critically in the mirror. A nice, sturdy, petite frame. Everything in proportion.
For a moment, I wish I had the voluptuous figure of Valentina. Giant orbs for breasts that rival Sophia Loren’s. Curvy hips. And another foot of height.
