But I can’t seem to find heranywhere.
“Looking for someone?” Helena says from behind me, catching me by surprise.
I spin around.
“Yeah,” I say, “I was just wondering if you’d seen Miss Adams ...”
“She’s in the pool,” Helena replies.
“Thanks,” I say, about to turn and head towards the pool and sauna complex that joins onto the back of the house.
“Oh Marcus?” she calls out to me, as I’m making to head over there. “Do be careful with that girl, won’t you?”
“Don’t worry, Helena,” I smile back. “I’ve got only the best of intentions ...”
I standby the edge of the heated indoor pool, watching her swim – her elegance as she cuts so easily through the water taking my breath away. And I get to enjoy the sight for a couple more laps before she finally notices me, swimming up to the side of the pool and lifting herself up at the side, resting on her elbows, the water droplets glimmering like jewels on her beautiful skin.
“How long haveyoubeen standing there?” she says with a grin.
“Not long,” I reply. “You’re an amazing swimmer, you know?”
“Thanks,” she replies. “The weekly trips to the local pool were about the only thing I enjoyed about school ...”
“Hey, listen,” I say, feeling a strange pang of nervousness as I wonder how to form my question. Damn. It’s so strange. When I’m around her, it’s like I’m reduced to some shy schoolboy again ... “I was just wondering if you might like to take a drive with me today? I’ve got a collection of vintage cars, and I hardly ever get a chance to enjoy them. It’s a beautiful day out there. But, I mean, if you’d prefer to stay in the house, that’s cool too ...”
“No, I’d love to,” she replies. “Let me just get ready ...”
As she pulls herself out of the pool, I feel that now-familiar tightness of lust and desire as I set eyes on her perfect body again: the faint bumps of her nipples beneath her white one-piece bathing suit that clings to her skin, the curve of her hips and, as she turns to pad back to the changing area, that amazingass...
I think about tonight.
I can’t help it.
I need to enjoy her as much as I can, before this week is through ...
I pushthe pedal to the floor, feeling the car glide effortlessly through the winding roads that border my estate, feeling the wind in my hair as I push this old Jaguar to its limits, its engine purring, the soft top down to allow us a fantastic view of this beautiful, lush greenery that zooms past, all around us.
This should be just perfect. I mean, here we are, just the two of us, an amazing picnic stowed away in a hamper on the back seat courtesy of Helena, and of course Jennifer sitting next to me. But even though things should be perfect, I still can’t help feeling like something’soff.
She’s been quiet ever since we started our drive, and every time I’ve tried to ask her a question about herself, she’s seemed uncomfortable and diverted it right back at me.
I don’t know, maybe I’m just imagining things, but I’m worried I’ve done something to upset her ...
I push a button on the dash, and the roof slides closed, cutting out the roaring sound of the wind, enveloping us in almost-silence, just the soft growl of the engine.
“You enjoying yourself?” I ask.
“Sure,” she says.
I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t, and again I can’t help but wonder if she’s mad at me.
“Your accent,” she says, all of a sudden. “It’s so strange. Where are youfromexactly?”
“All over,” I explain. “I grew up in so many different countries, attended so many different schools. My dad’s business meant that we kept travelling.”
“That must have been exciting,” she says.
“Kind of,” I say. “But it was pretty lonely too. The only real constant in my life was Helena, I guess ...”
