Continued from I’m not exactly who you think I am…
He stood in front of the mirror and looked at the shirt he’d picked out.
“Shit”, he said and tore it off to toss onto the pile of discarded Henleys, silk t-shirts and button downs on the bed. Dressing for his brother’s wedding had been easier! There-finally. This would do-long sleeves pushed up to the elbows, and loose. Two leather bands around his wrist, black jeans. He was glad his head was shaved or he would be in front of the mirror for another hour. This was ridiculous, he knew. He was going to dinner at a married friend’s house. They would have drinks and talk…Oh!-he grabbed the Murakami she had recommended off the bed side table…he’d leave it in the car in case they ran out of things to talk about.
Mike left the city proper and headed up 28, which was clear this time of day, toward Fox Trail. It wasn’t a neighborhood he had much reason to visit often. Even without seeing her car this morning, the address she put into his phone would have confirmed that he was right about the money. He knew what houses were worth over there. Off of the highway a two-lane wound gently through what looked like the English countryside or farmlands and forests but were actually well disguised old-money estates.
GPS found her address with no problem but he really couldn’t see the house from the road. He passed right by the gap in the stone wall and hung a chancy U-turn to come back to it. It was a long cruise up a driveway and around a few standing oak trees that looked to be a thousand feet high.
There was obviously an unscratched itch in her life somewhere. There were plenty of places to get the odd drink when your husband was out of town, but The Club catered to a different clientele. Maybe that was something that would come up in conversation. It should, probably. He’d bring it up…if there was a place for it. He thought for a second about Megan from last night. With her, he knew what they would be talking about. He wouldn’t feeling like he was going into an exam that he hadn’t studied for.
There was the Porsche in a spot just off the circular driveway. He pulled in beside it and gathered the chilled bottle of wine off the passenger seat. What he didn’t know about wine would fill a book so he had relied on the youngster in the bow-tie to recommend the fruity Oregon Pinot Gris, medium bodied with melon overtones, chilled to a perfect 48 degrees…and on and on.
Up four wide flag stone steps and onto the massive porch with the high columns and a double door that looked big enough to drive through. Only after he had lifted and slammed the doorknocker as big as a cow’s head sending reverberations down his spine did he notice the small unobtrusive intercom to the side. He grimaced. “Moron”, he mumbled. He reached to push the button but heard Kim’s voice through the speaker as clearly as if she was standing beside him. “Door’s open. Come on in. Straight back“.
He entered into a two story entrance hallway beneath a chandelier the size of his first car. There was a dimly lit living room to his right stuffed full of enough furniture to look like a showroom. A fire-too uniform to be anything but a gas feed-danced in a fireplace against the far wall. It was warm for a fire-and warmer inside than it had been out.
Straight back, she had said. He moved toward what he assumed to be the kitchen-he could see glimpses of metal in the candlelight. He was focused forward so didn’t notice Kim enter from a hallway to his left. She wore no make-up save for a touch of red around her lips and the light blue above her eyes. Her hair-which he was almost convinced grew as a tight pony-tail was down, luxuriantly framing her beautiful petite face. He shining hair hung thickly to her sharp collarbones which were exposed as Kim was completely naked. She looked at him alertly-with her head ticked off to one side slightly. Appraising. He tried to maintain eye-contact but didn’t stand a chance.
Her nipples stood firm and erect on her tiny breasts and her stomach looked as flat and strong as he might have imagined. Below her belly button she was clean, white and hairless as a seal. Was a seal hairless? He didn’t know-Jesus, but she was. Her quads were hard and oh-look! Her toenails were painted red.
She floated over and took the wine from him.
“Oh, this is very nice…and chilled.”
She turned and walked away with a gait that accentuated the movement of her tight strong bottom. He followed the bobbing cheeks into the kitchen in silence. He followed to the counter where she set the bottle.
“Granite…” he said absently running his hand over the smooth surface.
“Yes-I love stone…” She reached into the cabinet for glasses and a cork screw.
He was happy to hear her voice-because without it, he was having trouble registering that this was Kim Chen, who he knew from the bar and the running trail. This porcelain apparition glowing in the candlelight was the right size and shape but wasn’t.
He heard the cork pop and watched her pour. “I’m not exactly who you think I am”, echoed in his head. He guessed the book would stay in the car.