“Thank you,” I say, nodding sideways to let him know I require some alone time.
In all my sixty years on this planet, I have seen and felt many things. I have met women of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Of course, there has been the occasional feeling of desire that vanished as fast as it came, generally for one single reason: Mediocrity.
My lifestyle is not for the many, the public as much as what happens behind closed doors, but public recognition and the mediocre life do not work well.
Kissing Mia was probably a huge oversight on my end, because she checks all the marks above. As far as I can tell, she never had any relationship or any sexual experience in her life; it would be foolish to think her to be able to tolerate my lifestyle.
Let alone the fact that she is so much younger than Iam, which should be reason enough to leave her be. The age difference might work in play, but not with the longing I experience in myself, one I had yet to feel in my life. A pull beyond the normal desire—a sensation I cannot quite shake.
I want her. I want the twenty-seven-year-old primary school teacher from Greenwich. Shy, mediocre wallflower. I should know better than to let those sensations rule me.
I brush with a finger over my lips. I still feel hers on mine; her scent, the soft vanilla, lingers with me. I know my lifestyle could be her liberation, but she might never allow me, nor trust me enough, to enter the place where we could find out.
A thought crosses my mind.
“Henry,” I call, and he enters. “Send a bouquet of flowers to Miss Isabella Thorne at St Thomas to wish her a fast recovery.”
“Of course,” he says. “Do you wish me to sign the card in your name or should it be sent anonymously?”
“In my name.”
He nods and retracts, and I return to my thoughts.
It is night when Henry knocks on the door.
“Enter,” I tell him.
“The flowers have been delivered, and Miss Thorne has been delighted,” he tells me. “She was also quite…chatty,” he adds.
“Yes?” I ask.
“Apparently, Miss Phillips has never had any relationship in her life, something others would call a spinster in the old days. She also said if there is an interest, which I neither denied nor confirmed, the person would need endurance and some persuasion skills.”
I chuckle because it confirms my thoughts.
“Miss Thorne also said, surprise first and ask later is what works best with her rather stubborn roommate.”
Now, I laugh.
“Thank you, Henry,” I say.
The week flies by,and I have decided to give Mia some space to sort herself out. I have to explore myself, by all means. It is Friday when I wake up, my nightgown sweaty and a heated dream I cannotdeny. One where Mia knelt for me and begged me to introduce her to my lifestyle.
It takes me a long shower to release the images and sensations from my body, and by the time I have breakfast, I decide I cannot stay away from her any longer.
“Henry,” I say, “We’ll pick up Miss Phillips from school today.”
“Will we?” he asks.
“I also want you to make a reservation with Emilio for six. We’ll be visiting the King’s Vault beforehand. I also want something ready in case she wishes to change into something else. I believe she wears a size 10 in the upper body and a size 12 in the hips; make it fit the occasion while keeping her style. Nothing you’d pick for me. She needs to feel comfortable.”
“I already have something in mind,” he says and glances at his watch. “I’ll be back in an hour and a half, so we will arrive on time.”
I finish my breakfast and get myself ready.
Henry returns and sets three light-grey boxes on the table with a soft thud.
“I got three outfits,” he said. “I believe a choice between options will make it easier for her to accustom herself to it,” he says, and I nod approvingly.
