She looked in the mirror. Her lips were perfectly lined in red. Her green eyes looked misty and vivid in contrast with her deep copper hair. Her pale freckled skin gleamed with radiance as hands slid down her body in harmony with the emerald green silk dress, moulding every voluptuous curve. She stopped at mid thigh, the stockings had slipped. She pulled them up with a slight soft tug. She put on the brand new, shiny black stilettos. Turned sideways as her hands slid down her back and slowly caressed her flat womb. She could just about make out the time from the blurry reflection of the hall clock on the mirror. She couldn’t be late – she had to leave before he got home. She picked up the small clutch bag – black, it looked really good with the shoes. Not a bad buy – she thought as she grabbed the keys and threw them in the bag together with the make-up and the small vile of perfume. She wrapped the soft pashmina neatly around her shoulders.
As she opened the front door of the house she picked up the car keys and in one sturdy pull she slammed the front door shut. Her heart beat steadily faster. She looked at the car clock, he’d be arriving home soon. She sighed as a noisy fire engine sped past her. Her eyes shone with their own reflection in the rear-view mirror. There was quite a bit of traffic, but she was a bit early anyway. She starred attentively at her full alarming red lips with satisfaction. She stopped right in front of the hotel. She sat for a few seconds thinking of the last time they had met.
Her hands clenched the sides of her thighs in a bid to grasp reality. He hadn’t changed. His jeans moulded his body as the white semi unbuttoned shirt left little to the imagination. His hazel – green eyes met hers as an agreeing satisfactory smile formed. Her body shuddered as his hand slowly swept over the base of her back. Her back straightened displaying all her curves, almost like curtains opening at the beginning of a play.
‘I’ve missed you,’ he whispered
‘And I you,’ she turned so that their lips had no choice but to touch.
His hand clenched her hip, pushing her into him. She sighed. The bell boy called the elevator. They stood side by side. Quiet. He encouraged her into the lift with a very subtle guiding push as he followed close behind her.
He smiled at the older couple in the lift. The woman must have recognised him, he could tell by her excited, yet graceful shy smile. The man nodded approvingly at him as he held his wife’s hand. Anais looked at the older woman, she smiled as she tried to contain her envy. She would never be as happy. She looked at Peter. His chiselled face radiated a warm dominant quality. As her eyes fell to the floor they caught a glimpse of the shiny gold band on her finger. The woman looked at her with a solemn understanding smile. The doors opened, he lead her out. They walked to the heavy wooden doors. She walked to the balcony and leant over the side. The Seine swept grudgingly. Her fiery short curls wrapped themselves around her pale features. Her legs sinuous from the childish dress called to him, as he looked at her through the semi-opened glass doors. He watched as she reveled in the moment, just as sensuous as he had remembered her.
‘I will love you,’ he whispered in a melodious breathy voice, ‘I will make you mine.’ He twirled her round, whilst the weight of his body pushed hers onto the marble filigree balustrade. Her eyes taking in the paleness of his beauty, familiarizing herself with his body once again – realizing how much she had missed it.
She woke up with the loud ringing. As she wrapped the sheet around her naked body she stumbled through the pieces of clothing until she found her clutch. She opened it frantically. They gave up. She looked at the time – it was late. She followed the trail of clothes dressing herself as quickly as she possibly could. He stood looking at her. She had been his – even if it was for a few brief hours. Now, she had to go back. They both had to go back to reality, where she belonged to another and he would not see her again until he returned from another league of the tour. He embraced her from behind, almost as to try impeding her from leaving him.
The way home was clear. She walked in slowly. Quietly she made her way to the bedroom. The house was unusually still. There was no sign of him. Perhaps he had been caught up at work. As she sat down on the sofa there was a knock on the door. There was an eerie chill. She opened the door once she had realized it was safe.
‘Good evening.’ The policeman’s serious face surveyed her.
‘Evening,’ she started to imagine thousands of scenarios. ‘Come in.’ She lead him to the meticulously decorated reception room, ‘Can I help?’
‘I’m very sorry.’ He tried to soften the blow, ‘Your husband was involved in an accident.’
‘Is he ok?’ She felt her blood freeze in her veins. ‘Where is he?’
‘I’m ever so sorry.’
‘No.’ she starred blankly as flashes of him attacked her. Her mouth dried. Her eyes darkened as her pale skin lost all traces of colour. Her body sank into the sofa. She closed her eyes trying to block out the images as the guilt swelled within her.


Marta-Alexandra Silva Aguiar

Aberystwyth, United Kingdom

  • Artist
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