The Architect (3 page)

Chapter Four

Back at my humble abode with shopping now tidily packed away, I note that the time is 3:27, and I'm pleased I have sufficient time to tick off all of my to-do list.

After nibbling at my snack of cheese and crackers, I make myself a café noir with one sugar this time, and hike up the stairs with it, grabbing my new lingerie on the way.

Snipping off the labels, I lay the new underwear on my bed before dawdling to the bathroom to run myself a bath. Splashing a nice blob of lavender bubble bath at the tap end, I then roll the blind down until it kisses the window sill. I light four of my beeswax candles, then rummage through the bottles and tubes on the side to find
my
wax. Not being able to find it, I opt for my six-month-old hair removal cream, and hope it still does the trick. It does, and I de-hair my legs and other vital parts, before rinsing the cream off in my en-suite shower, and returning to the bathroom.

Relaxing down into the steaming water and hissing bubbles, my mind takes me back to Heath.
I wonder what he's doing right now.

Lying in the dancing candlelight, my body protected in a layer of water and bubbles, I imagine him striding around in his suit, looking all important and sexy as he pulls a cigarette from his packet with his lips like he did last night. I soon find myself getting carried away, and I'm back down the alleyway replaying our shag in my head, but this time I'm watching from the shadows. As my memory starts to improve, I feel my clit start to ache. Kneading it gently with my palm to soothe the throbbing, I then reach out for my exfoliator and lather it up with shower gel before giving my entire body a good scrubbing.

Submerging my head under the water and washing the soap from my body, I let my imagination run wild. The pictures in my head of Heath and of last night send my hand back down to my clit. Surfacing, I rest my head on the edge of the bathtub, shove my sodden hair back from my face and continue to masturbate.

Flicking and rubbing at myself firmly, I watch the replay in my mind and imagine that I am back there. Pushing my breasts up from underneath the water, I tweak and tug on my left nipple, teasing it to stiffness. I see Heath in my mind's eye, licking, flicking, and moistening it with his tongue, getting ready to bite it lightly. I feel him at my nipple as I tug, and at my clit as I rub. The scene playing in my head only sends me closer to the edge, until finally my legs stiffen, and that rush of pleasure washes over me. I think of a million and one things as I climax, but can't remember a single one as I come back down from the high, feeling relaxed, satisfied, and terribly naughty.

In my post-orgasmic state I shampoo and condition my hair, before getting out of the tub and wrapping my hair and body in fluffy white towels. Then I wander to the bedroom.

Powering up my hi-fi and hoping there's a good tune on, I'm not disappointed when my stereo finally kicks in and is half way through
I'm So Excited
by The Pointer Sisters.

Dancing my way over to my wardrobe to seek out my black pencil skirt and rifle through my clothes rack for a nice blouse, I wiggle to the music. With skirt in hand, along with my silky dark blue blouse, I walk to the beat of the music to the bed, throw them down next to my new undies and act out the Demi Moore scene from
Striptease
.

Shaking the towel on my head loose until it falls to the floor, I flick my hair back and forth to get rid of the excess water and give myself a little flash in my tall standing mirror. Then, switching on my hairdryer, I use it as a microphone in between drying my hair, trying not to trip over the lead.

Messing around and giving Demi a run for her money, I try to remember the last time I felt like this. The only day that comes to mind is the day I got married. I was so young, too young, but it was all champagne and excitement. I remember my sister Sally doing my hair and nails, and my so-called friend, Jessica, helping out. All three of us had a great laugh getting ready, and I was so happy to be marrying my first and only love. Unfortunately, there was no other real excitement in my life after that day. Well, until now.

With locks now dry I slip my new lingerie on and rummage through my makeup drawer for my black mascara and liquid eyeliner. Applying both with precision to achieve my Audrey Hepburn eyes, I then take my clear lip gloss out and drop it into my bag after applying a little to finish off my - hopefully - sexy natural look. Catching a glimpse of my phone, I examine it. Two texts, both from Heath.

I'm looking forward to tonight. H x

And:

I can't stop thinking about how horny last night was. H x

Wanting to text back and tell him that I too can't stop thinking about it, and that I frigged myself off in the bath over him, I play it cool and leave him hanging.

The time now 5:17, I start to get anxious, so I get dressed. I slip on my new black lingerie that fits perfectly, button up my silk blouse, tuck it into the top of my skirt and slip on my favourite pair of black patent three-inch heels.

Assessing myself in the mirror, I give myself a well-deserved wink, and laugh at myself for doing so. Then I give myself a good old squirt of Chanel, and sideways step down the stairs in my very tight garment to call a cab.

Taxi booked for 6:30, I grab my book to kill some time, and before I know it, its 6:23 and I'm at the lounge window with bag on arm, waiting for my ride. The black car pulls up at the end of the drive and I tackle the gravel once more.

On the way, I reply to Heath's earlier messages.
I'm looking forward to it as well. X

And, just to make up for me leaving him hanging, I also reply to his second text straight after.

I've been thinking about it too ;) x

The journey to the hotel is terrifying, as the driver cuts through the hustle and bustle, grinds to halts, and runs through amber lights. Trying not to look as we pass another cab so close that we almost knock his wing mirror off, I hold onto the door handle firmly, and hope for a text from Heath to take my attention away from the dangerous driving. I see his text flash on my screen.

I thought you had forgotten about me ;) Oh, you have? Do tell. H x

I smile and quench his thirst with a sexy text.
I've been thinking about how hot your body is ;) x

Mmm, and how hot do you think it is? H x

His reply makes me giggle. Typical man, wanting an ego boost.

Passing the road with the jazz bar on it, I grin and tell Heath I just passed our alleyway, along with paying him a compliment about his toned stomach.

Thank you. You're getting close, then? I'll see you soon. H x

Arriving outside the tall Edwardian hotel, I step out of the taxi, tug my skirt down, and walk slowly towards the entrance. Stepping inside, I instantly scan for Heath across the huge beige and gold foyer with its amazingly high ceiling. But I can't find him through the business suits, flower displays, and high-backed leather chairs.

Not wanting to look out of place, I head to the woman behind reception. Just as my lips form to ask her which way the dining area is, a hand rests on my shoulder. In a second I've turned my head, inspected the hand, and I'm now being hypnotised by blue eyes. It's him.

He gives a sexy half-smile and says, “Good evening.” He stands there all tall and self-assured in his charcoal suit, white shirt and grey tie, waiting for my reply.

“Good evening.”

I feel his gaze move over me, up and down, like a rolling pin on a piece of dough that's now had the air knocked out of it.

“You look stunning,” he states, before gesturing with his hand. “Shall we?”

In answer, I take his arm and we head for the restaurant.

Chapter Five

The waiter introduces himself as Philip, and shows us to our pre-booked table in the corner by an impressive arched window, and pulls out a chair for me. I take my seat and Heath sits opposite me after removing his jacket, smoothing down his trousers and giving me an eyeful of his crotch.

“Can I get you a drink?” Philip asks as he hands us a menu each. Heath waits for me to reply. Not having been somewhere so posh before I browse the drinks list, more than half of which I can't pronounce, then look at Heath.

He must have spotted the uncertainty in my eyes as he asks, “Would you like time to look at the menu first? To see what might go best with what you choose to eat?”

I nod, feeling embarrassed as the waiter agrees and leaves us.

“You don't know what half of it says, do you?” His face looks kind, almost charmed at the thought of me not knowing.

“I haven't a clue.”

He frowns as he skims the beverages. “Neither do I, really. I just say it in a French accent and hope for the best.”

“You're such a liar.” I giggle. “I bet you know exactly what they mean, and how to say them.”

His eyes meet mine from over his menu and he laughs. “Maybe.”

I smile from ear to ear and look down at the menu to begin my hunt for some food I can say the name of. Also, to hide my eyes before they betray me and give away just how much I like this guy. Scanning for dishes, I am distracted as a couple walk past our table and are seated to the right of us. As I observe them, Heath catches my eye.

“How's your day been?”

“Well,” I start, “apart from the unwanted information about my colleague's sex last night, it's been a pretty good day.”

“Unwanted information about sex? What's wrong with you, woman?”

“Trust me.” I cringe. “You wouldn't want to know.”

“Really? It can't be that bad.”

My eyebrows lift. “Oh, it is.”

“Go on, tell me.”

I smile. “Okay. Well, the woman I work with, Liz, is about sixty, and she gets up to all sorts of things. Apparently last night her and her husband,” I lower my voice, “were making love while his friend was getting a blow job from her.” I pause and have a quick perimeter check before I finish with, “I think they call it a spitfire.”

He laughs, loud and joyous.

“What?” I ask.

Still laughing, he finally composes himself and whispers, “It's a spit
roast,
you beautiful woman.”

“Well, you knew what I meant,” I utter, feeling like a complete idiot, and pretending to read the menu as I give myself a dressing-down in my head.
He must think I'm stupid. I can't read the menu, I can't speak French, and I can't tell a threesome from an aeroplane. Way to go on impressing him
.

My negative thoughts are interrupted.

“Okay, so tell me in English what you'd like to drink, and I'll order it for us in French.” He closes the leather book and folds his hands together on the table.

“Umm, a red wine, but not a dry one.”

He lifts his hand. “Then that's what you shall have.”

The waiter approaches within seconds to take his request. After ordering a bottle of vino in tongue, Heath looks at me and asks if I am ready to order. I am, and we both recite from the menu what we would like as Philip scribbles it down on his little pad and nods.

“Will that be all?” he inquires, as he takes the menus away.

“For now, thank you,” Heath replies before turning his beautiful, sharp, blue eyes back to me. “Tell me about yourself,” he demands.

I twiddle with the white tablecloth in my lap and wish I still had the menu to hide behind. “I'm a receptionist, as you know. I live alone, and I like to watch musicals.”

He gives me a ‘go on' look.

“I don't see my family, I have no friends, and I've been divorced for over two years.”

He looks stunned. “Divorced for over two years? If you don't mind me asking, what happened?”

“No, I don't mind.” I shrug. “There's not much to tell, really. I got married when I was twenty-two to my first love, and we made it to our second year.”

“Why did you split?” he asks, on tenterhooks.

I look down at the table and pause as I remember the events of the past, and then look back to Heath before spilling the beans. “He fell in love with someone else.”

“Bastard,” he hisses.

I giggle. “Yep, that's what I said.”

The waiter appears at the table with our wine. He looks at Heath after uncorking the bottle. “Would you like me to pour?”

Heath frowns slightly. “No, thanks, I think I can handle it.”

Philip nods, and I watch him dash off to another table at the far end before quizzing Heath sharpish so he hasn't got a chance to ask me any more questions. “I take it you're unattached?”

He picks up the bottle. “I am indeed.”

I proceed to feed my curious mind. “So where do you come from, if you're only here on business?”

“Believe it or not,” he starts to pour me a drink, “I'm from your neck of the woods.”

“Really? How bizarre.”

He fills his glass, too. “That's what I thought when I dropped you home last night.”

“So why are you staying here, then?”

“Because this is how I live, I travel with work. You know, ‘wherever I lay my hat, that's my home,' sort of thing.”

“I'm intrigued. What kind of work is it you do?”

Our starters are placed in front of us, and we thank the waiter before Heath goes on to tell me he's an architect. He builds, plans, alters and designs buildings all over the country, and as he has to regularly visit the sites he's working on, he travels and stays in hotels because it's easier than having a fixed residence.

To be honest he lost me back at architect, when he placed his first scallop in his mouth. I couldn't help myself. I saw his lips part and his tongue flatten and that was it - my mind was taking me to all sorts of wonderful places.

“So,” he breaks my thoughts, “if my calculations are right, that makes you either twenty-six or twenty-seven?”

“Yes, your calculations are right. I'm twenty-seven, and since you brought the subject up...”

He gives me a disapproving look. “Have a guess.”

I shake my head. “I wouldn't like to. I'm terrible at guessing people's ages.”

He takes a swig of his drink before asking me to humour him.

“Okay.” I hesitate. “Mid-thirties?”

He smiles. “The lower or the higher of that mid?”

I play it safe. “The lower?”

“Such a charmer,” he jokes. “I'm thirty-seven.”

I act surprised and compliment him on looking good for his age, and he thanks me. The conversation flows until we are presented with our main courses, and we both get lost in a world of taste and texture as we chew on tender lamb, and crunch on what I would call undercooked carrots.

“I just want you to know...”

He looks at me wide-eyed as he pulls his fork from his closed lips, and I wonder who just kicked me up the butt and pushed those words out of my mouth. “I've never done anything like we did last night. I mean, I've never had a one-night stand.”

He swallows. “It wasn't a one-night stand, because you're here with me now.”

“You know what I mean.” I push the food around my plate. “I've never slept with a man within two hours of meeting him.”

He grins. “I'm glad to hear it.” He leaves me hanging for his words as he takes another mouthful of food, then chews and swallows. “And just so you know, neither have I.”

Inside I'm grinning my head off, but on the outside I'm as cool as a cucumber. “I'm glad to hear it, too.”

On our second glass of wine and waiting for dessert, his foot touches mine.
Did he do that on purpose?
If he did and I just ignore it, he might take it the wrong way, but if he didn't and I do it back, he could take that the wrong way, too.
Oh hell, just go for it woman. Nothing
ventured and all that.

Elongating my leg and searching under the table, I rub my shiny shoe against the bottom of his trouser leg. His eyes instantly make contact with mine and his lips curl to a smile as I reach for my glass and recline in my chair, lifting my leg a little higher up his.

His face fills with desire as he slowly reaches under the table and takes my foot in his hand. Delicately, he removes my shoe, and I hear it fall to the floor. Glancing around to see if the thump caught anyone's attention, I'm comforted to see that no one is looking our way. Fixing my attention back on Heath as he starts to push circles into my foot, I flash him a glance of approval and give him my ‘come to bed' eyes as I search with my toes to see if he's as aroused as I am. Pleased to feel his trousers tight around his warm erection, I spread my toes and run them down the length of his cock

“Do you still feel like dessert?” He flashes me a naughty smile.

“I'd prefer to take it upstairs.” I run my fingers through my hair and finish what's left of my drink.

“And what exactly is it you want for dessert?” he asks, mimicking my hair pushing and drinking.

“Hmm, I feel like something warm, sticky, and filling.”

“Really?” He bends down and dresses my bare foot. “I think I can help you with that.”

He calls the waiter over whilst pulling on his jacket, and tells him to cancel our desserts as we've suddenly got an appetite for something else. The waiter gives Heath a smile and heads off to do as instructed, after thanking us.

Heath rests his hand on the small of my back as the polished lift doors part for us to enter. Dropping his hand to my arse, he gently pushes me in.

I watch in the mirrored wall as he presses the level button on the wall several times in the hope that the doors will shut quickly enough to not allow any unwanted company in the lift car. His wish is fulfilled. The doors close behind me in the reflection.

“My God, Ruth, I've wanted you from the moment I laid eyes on you in the foyer.” He grips my breasts and pushes his hard cock against my backside as he kisses my neck.

Getting carried away and forgetting ourselves, we suddenly both stand straight-backed against the mirrors as a disembodied voice announces, “Floor two.”

The doors open slowly and an older couple step in. Heath greets them. “Good evening.” Then he carries on chatting to them about the lovely weather, while I look down at the floor and shyly act out the routine of putting a cigarette out with my foot.

Finally at floor four, he grabs my hand and bids farewell to the couple. Walking the spacious corridors, I notice that Heath has a foolish grin on his face. He looks like he's just been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and I can't help but join him in his expression.

“Here we are.” He stops outside room 315 and pulls a key from his inside jacket pocket.

I start to get nervous as he holds his arm out to the open door and says, “Ladies first.”

Entering the room, I feel his eyes all over me as he flicks the two bedside lamps on. I walk forward and place my bag down as I scan the room. It's big. It has a huge window running the length of the apartment, boasting a great view of London's skyline, and has two large leather armchairs in either corner. The door to my left I'm guessing is the bathroom, and the bed looks like the most comfy squishy thing I've ever seen before, with its white and purple patterning and gold scatter cushions.

Casting my eyes back to the mesmerizing view, I catch Heath's reflection behind me and hear the door slam as he pushes it closed with his foot. Walking towards me, he loosens his tie, then reaches out and scoops my hair to one side before kissing my neck.

“So. Are you going to be a good girl tonight?”

My hair stands to attention as his breath hits my neck, and I tease, “That all depends.”

He kisses me again. “On what?”

“On whether you are going to tell me your name or not.”

He looks at my image in the window. “It's Berkley.” Tugging the end of his tie from one side of his collar and walking around to face me, he says, “Now then.” He pulls me close. “Are you?”

Only millimetres apart, tasting the air between us, I reply, “Why don't you find out?”