Broken Serenade (11 page)

   
Vivien prayed to God that she would be so lucky too. In fact, she didn’t intend to steal anything. She only wanted to look around. She had done that so many times as a child. She had secretly seen the interior of the houses of all her family’s Woodside neighbors. She was probably the only person who knew that Mrs. Strobe, the wife of the multimillionaire Mercedes dealer from across the street, saved her used floss pieces for future uses. As for Mr. Strobe, he always played fearless. In countless occasions offered more often than not by the traditional neighborhood picnic, Vivien had heard him as he boasted that he wouldn’t be afraid to cross the thick woods of Woodside at night, totally unarmed. However, she knew that he slept with a pistol close by, in the nightstand drawer, and a baseball bat under his bed.    

   
She reached Timothy’s house sooner than she had expected. She slowed down the car and passed it. There was no one around. She felt shivers of anticipation, and warm perspiration covered her palms.

   
She parked a few houses further, between two properties, right in front of a huge, neglected bush of hedge left to hang in the street. As she came to a stop, she heard the branches scratching her Lexus.

   
“Damn it!” she cursed nervously.

   
She took off her coat and threw it on the passenger seat, on top of her purse. After that, Vivien got out of the car and wiped her damp hands on her fancy skirt. The street was deserted. Or so it seemed.

   
Using her hand to shade her eyes from the simmering sun, the young woman strolled casually toward Timothy Leigh’s house. Yet, her heart was beating just as though she were running a marathon.

   
The modern architecture of Tee’s house mesmerized Vivien. From her height of 5’5”, it rose as an impressive ensemble of concrete and glass cubes arranged in a perfect harmony that spoke openly about his recognized talent. White and blue flower arrangements and fine gravel alleys alternated artistically all around it, giving Vivien the strange sensation that she was stepping into a futuristic world.

   
She advanced with apparent confidence toward the main entrance. Almost suffocated with emotion, she rang the doorbell. No answer. She pressed the button again. Silence. Fighting the early symptoms of a panic attack, she slinked to the back of the house, wondering if she could actually pull this off. Her panting gradually diminished by yoga-breathing techniques, she passed the gigantic glass doors picking inside surreptitiously. She remarked the elegant furniture and the white marble floors. She tried the metal handles. Unsuccessful. The entrance was locked.
Damn!
She foamed inwardly with frustration. Just when she thought that she had run out of options,
Lady Luck
smiled upon her. She localized two regular doors. One of them opened to the garage. That one was locked. Biting her lower lip, Vivien touched the handle of the other one. She turned it slowly, her heart in her throat. The door opened.
Bingo!
She heaved a sigh of relief.    

   
“Hello!” the young woman called cautiously before entering. “Is anybody home?” No answer came.  

   
Vivien studied the laundry room with a critical eye. Everything was in perfect order. Nicely folded, a few clean clothes lay on the ironing table. She smiled amused at the sight of a pair of Calvin Klein briefs. Not loosing precious time, she advanced through a narrow hallway into the kitchen.

   
The master bedroom… where is the master bedroom?

   
She walked on her toes through the labyrinth of corridors decorated with abstract paintings and large glass objects d’art. Finally, she found the marble stairway toward the upper floor. She followed the fine, masculine scent and discovered the master bedroom. The huge California King Size bed was undone, its ocean-blue sheets and pillowcases lightly wrinkled on one side. A dresser’s drawer, full of white T-shits, had been left opened.
So, your housekeeper doesn’t come daily
, Vivien concluded.     

   
She glanced inside the bathroom.
You took your morning shower… Nice…
The shower had been recently used. Drops of water hanged on its transparent doors, and a damp, oversized dark-blue towel had been thrown negligently on the floor. At the sight of it, Vivien shook her head disapprovingly. She came back into the bedroom and started to pull drawers and cabinets, rummaging his shirts, underwear, and other personal stuff. Still, she didn’t know what she was actually looking for.
Something, anything
… A clear thought germinated suddenly in that suffocating amalgam of emotions and stress.
I need a hair for a DNA test!

    Once again,
Vivien hurried into the bathroom. She looked for his hairbrush. She couldn’t find it anywhere, so she fell on her knees and scrutinized the marble floor for a piece of hair. She found a blond one and stuffed it quickly inside her bra. The next instant a noise startled her. The young woman froze. Someone had just slammed the main entrance door.

*                                        *                                        *

    Timothy Leigh left his keys on the small glass table in the foyer and took off his coat. He undid the knot of his tie and started to open the buttons of his shirt. It was getting warm. It was his favorite kind of weather. He looked at his watch and decided that he had enough time to make a short cycling tour before his meeting with the mysterious piano teacher.

   
The architect ascended the marble stairs toward his bedroom slowly, trying to forget the bothering reason he was home earlier today. He had received another email from the person who had been stalking him online lately. He had changed his email address four times in the last few weeks, but to no avail. Whatever he had tried, he had not been able to escape the obscenities and threats of that obsessed woman – she did present herself as a woman…
A genuine nutcase,
he reflected. She was probably one of his ex-girlfriends. She knew way too many things about him. She enjoyed placing them skillfully in each one of her emails, evidently with the intention to drive him crazy and get back at him for the fact that he had not asked her to marry him. She was most certainly an expert in the art of having sex with a man. She described with luxurious details positions and moves, and she expressed her desire to try them all with him. With a little imagination, Timothy realized that some of them were indeed extremely arousing. Too bad, she had adopted such a vulgar vocabulary, full of trivialities and obscenities.
Without it, she could’ve been a lot of fun
, Timothy thought jokingly. Now he regretted the fact that today, his nerves had given up on him, and he had replied to her last message. 

   
His empty stomach sent a dissonant tune, and Timothy Leigh stopped at the upper end of the stairs, confused about what he really wanted to do next. He descended a few steps thinking that he could enjoy a frugal lunch in his kitchen. Then he changed his mind and hurried back toward his bedroom.
Let’s put on the cycling gear first.

    In front of the bedroom’s
wide open door, he halted. A strange woman inside his private chamber was struggling to unlock the glass doors to the balcony.   

   
“What the hell!” he uttered perplex.

   
The woman turned to him. Her eyes were large with fear. Timothy recovered at once.

   
“It didn’t take you too long to materialize,” he said scornfully. “I was just beginning to deplore the fact that I’ve answered your email today. But if I look at you closely now…  It would’ve been such a pity to miss a rare occasion like this one!”

     From that angle, she seemed cute, even pretty. He approached her with confi
dent strides until the view took his breath away and stopped him in his tracks. Actually, she was drop-dead gorgeous, madly sexy, and surprisingly young. Not in the least what he had had in mind – a woman past her prime, pent-up, and sexually obsessed.

    “Boy, if I knew you looked like that, I would’ve
answered your first email and asked you to show your face.”

   
“Don’t touch me!” she warned him. “I have a gun.”

    
Impossible!
He was firmly convinced of that. In the bathroom mirror, he caught a glimpse of her, nervously writing her empty hands behind her back.

     “Where do you have it, my dear? Inside your panties?
If you do wear any. Do you?” he chuckled quite relaxed. “As naughty as you are, and with all the spicy written details you’ve been providing, I have serious reasons to doubt that. But of course, that’s a plus in this particular situation.”

    Her blue eye
s hypnotized him. Inside them, something called on him in spite her belligerent attitude. It was something wonderful, a kaleidoscope of emotions he had never witnessed before in a woman’s eyes. And that indescribable wonderfulness poured from her magical blue irises directly into his soul, making him feel more alive and manly than ever. She was a refreshing change from the
cool as a cucumber
type he had dated all of his life.

   
She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out.    

    “What happene
d? Cat got your tongue? Do I have to do all the talking here? You seemed more… chatty in your messages,” he said, inching closer as the attraction for her grew exponentially with every second spent in her presence.

    “I…
I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the young woman stuttered.

    She
probed a desperate escape. She threw herself toward the open door of the bedroom with all her force. Timothy snatched her with the ability of a wild creature and immobilized her between the wall and his powerful body. The movement tore her blouse. A set of keys and two pearly buttons sang playfully on the white wooden floor. A tempting, lacy black bra appeared, leaving half-exposed the young woman’s full breasts.

   
“Let me go, please!” she pleaded. “I can explain…”

   
“…why you’re here?” he continued her thought. “I know why. I don’t need any explanation,” the man assured her, touching her bosom with his fiery gaze. “You’ve done a lot of explaining lately via emails. It’s time for some action, young lady.”

   
“I told you, I have no idea what you’re talking about. You’re delusional,” she said breathlessly, fighting to escape his iron embrace.   

   
“Oh, I remember now! You like to be harshly treated, tortured a little, you like it rough, don’t you? I’m not a Marquis de Sade fan! Not exactly my style, but I’m open to new experiences,” he whispered hoarsely, forcing her hands behind her back and burying his face in her scented hair.

   
She smelled of flowers and cleanliness, and Timothy Leigh felt the world fading around him. He suddenly was alone with this exquisite woman in the entire universe. This beautiful young woman who wanted him badly enough to risk her life and break into his home. The mere thought warmed his insides to the point of boiling desire that melted all his prejudices and inhibitions. Her unorthodox introduction and her choice of words ceased to be an issue anymore.
If she likes it dirty, so be it!

    “If you like it dirty, I can think of things to do to y
ou that would make a whore’s face flush bright red with embarrassment!”

    “You’re out of your mind. You really are crazy!”
she fought him.

    “Am I? Touché! Well, of course I’m crazy,” he agreed
, with his lips on her skin. “But you, my dear, are not really a match for a normal man. Are you?”

    Vivien tried to speak
, but she couldn’t find the right words to stop him.

    “I am…I am
.”

    “Yes, woman, you ARE! And that’s all that matters now,” he said
, happy that she existed. 

   
He allowed his scorching lips to travel lightly along her neck and face.
If she’s slightly wild and insane, I’ll tame her a little, go crazy with her a bit…
The fine texture of her skin only pushed him further.
Sweet torment!
Timothy marveled. He pressed his hard sex on her abdomen and moved slowly and rhythmically as if he were making love to her. Aroused, he moaned in her ear.

   
“Do you like it? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

     As an
unfair answer to his passion-fueled questions, the woman gathered all her energy and tried to send him a knee exactly to the anatomical part of his body that was
doing the thinking
at that moment. Timothy managed to stop her at less than a tenth of an inch from his crotch.  

   
“Don’t tell me that you really believe what you see in those stupid movies. The kick-ass-heroine ones in which a woman of your size beats up a man of my size,” he smiled towering over her. “That’s pure crap, honey! In spite of all your fascinating insanity, you seem intelligent enough to know that you cannot fight me and win. You don’t have to possess Einstein’s IQ to understand that. So, give it up!”