Some places, like Paris or Prague, have a soundtrack – melodies and sounds that follow you, marking your journey through the city. A choir practising in the cathedral, birdsong in the park, the thrum of traffic, a busker strumming a guitar.
The Greek Islands had ascent-track. I couldn’t remember ever being so aware of how good the air smelled – whether the aromas from a kitchen, the briny sea air, the island’s flora, or in this case, native botanicals.
When I pushed open the door to the spa, the scent intensified and I inhaled deeply.
The woman on reception – twenty-something, with long dark hair and a heart-shaped, perfectly made-up face – looked up as I entered, breaking into a welcoming smile.
‘Good morning, Ms Novak.’ Impressive considering I hadn’t met her yet. ‘I’m Eleni. I’ll be looking after you today.’
‘I’m very early,’ I apologised, my English manners taking over. ‘I can come back if you like.’ So much for lounging in a robe and sipping herbal tea until my appointment.
‘No need. You’re my sole client today, so we can get started right away.’
‘Oh, lovely. Wait, sorry… it’s just, my friend. She’d hoped you could fit her in but?—’
‘Mrs Bennet? Yes, Niki called earlier. My friend Sofia is coming now. She will attend to Mrs Bennet.’
‘Brilliant,’ I said with a small sigh. I didn’t want Trudy to miss out.
‘This way, please,’ Eleni said, leading me into a beautifully appointed treatment room, decorated in soft tones of cream and sage green. Across from us, next to a large picture window with a similar view to the one from my villa, was an enormous standalone bathtub.
Eleni must has caught me gawping. ‘I can run the bath for you, if you like. It only takes a few minutes to fill.Or…’ she began enticingly, her brows lifted. She stepped around me and opened a glass-and-wood door. ‘There’s an outside shower.’ I followed her to the door and peered out. The shower was enclosed on three sides, exposed only to the view.
I turned to Eleni. ‘Could I have a shower before my treatments and a bath afterwards?’ I asked cheekily.
‘Of course, Ms Novak.’ She went to the door. ‘Please take your time. There is a robe for you here,’ she said, indicating the fluffiest robe I’d ever seen, ‘and when you’re ready, please press this button and I will return.’ She bowed her head and backed out of the room, silently closing the door behind her.
‘Jesus, Jules,’ I whispered. It was already the most luxurious spa I’d ever been to. If Aetheria didn’t come undone before it even got going, he’d make akilling.
I slipped out of my dress and knickers, draping them over the valet stand – a classy touch – and stepped outside to shower. I lathered myself from top to toe, then rinsed under the steamy stream, letting it wash away the morning’s madness.
And just as I turned off the tap, I heard that cry again.Kee-kee-kee. I looked up and there she was, effortlessly riding the pockets of air.
‘Hello there,’ I said, watching the falcon until she flew out of sight.
* * *
‘Oh, my goodness, Dale is going to have a hard time getting me back to Ottawa.’
I sniggered softly, unable to move my face, which was encrusted in a clay mask. How Trudy was able to talk through her mask was baffling.
Nearby, Minh hovered discreetly, taking photos. He’d been in and out of the treatment room all afternoon, only staying long enough to get the shot, then retreating to the waiting room. He must have been bored off his trolley.
‘Oh, yes, right there,’ groaned Trudy.
I cracked an eyelid. Thank god – it was just a foot massage. For a second there, I thought maybe the ‘full package’ came with a more…specialisedservice. Still, she wasn’t wrong – it was divine. Not even Tommy, whose foot rubs were bliss after a long day in sky-high heels, could hold a candle to Eleni. She had magic hands. And from the sound of things, so did Sofia.
Is Julian bedding one of them?I wondered.Or both?I wouldn’t have put it past him. He was only forty-nine and Julian had the sort of sex appeal thatcouldland a twenty-something stunner.Andher bestie. Possibly at the same time.
That had been a bone of contention when we were married. For some reason, Julian figured that having a ‘young, hot, sexy wife’ (his words) meant he’d be the C in a two-Vs-one-C threesome every other weekend.
When I’d calmly explained that I’d had a threesome at uni – same configuration – and that it had been grossly unsatisfyingandhad led to the end of my friendship with the other V, he’d replied, ‘So bloody what?’
I’d gone into my wardrobe and come out wearing a long, red, curly wig, and in my best Scottish accent (still terrible to this day) said, ‘No need for a threesome when you’ve got this sexy lassie in the house.’
He’d laughed long and loud, then fucked me within an inch of my life on the sofa in the front room, the curtains open several inches to up the thrill factor.
We added ‘Roleplay Sundays’ to our calendar and sometimes it wasJulianwho wore a wig.
