The Organization (23 page)

She was single, at least on record.  She rented a flat on a modest, sensible street in Birmingham, a relatively quick commute to the prison – and a mere half hour away from London on the fast train.  Not that she would splurge on the expense of the fast train.  Harriet pulled her accounts to see where she spent her money.  She had a monthly membership to a gym – no surprise there, given her occupation.  She scanned through Naomi’s other expenses – a green grocer, a butcher, some kind of repair service, a clothing store, a salon, a few restaurants and cafés, and several entries for a place ambiguously named The Fox.  Harriet switched over to a search on The Fox, and found that it was a bar with a reputation as popular for those attracted to the same sex. 
Interesting
, she thought.

Harriet looked again at her records and her expenditures at The Fox.  It seemed she went there regularly, every Saturday morning during “happy hour,” and occasionally during the week.

Tomorrow was Saturday.

Chapter Forty-One

Harriet took the train to the Birmingham Moor Street station and walked the fifteen minutes until she arrived at the brick building that housed The Fox.  Her heels echoed loudly on the cement sidewalk as she walked up to the entrance, smoothing down her skirt and feeling confident in her appearance.  She was pushing forty-eight, but age had been kind to her so far.  The worker at the door asked for her membership card or entrance fee, and she scanned her digicard to deposit the required sum.

Harriet entered the bar and surveyed her surroundings.  The interior was somewhat smaller than she expected.  She knew who she was looking for and she immediately spotted her subject at the far end of the bar, but she also knew to take her time.  She sat down on a bar stool and ordered a scotch on the rocks, grateful that alcohol was being openly sold in public establishments again.  She sipped her drink and purposely looked anywhere but at Naomi James.

Before arriving at The Fox, Harriet had unbuttoned her emerald silk blouse two buttons lower than she would be willing to wear for work.  Now seated at the bar and leaning slightly forward, she ran her fingers through her hair and smiled at the bartender, making conversation about the latest films.  She hadn’t actually seen of the films, but she had learned about them through Anna.  At least they weren’t talking about the weather.

After about a half hour, she looked in Naomi’s direction and caught her eye.  Harriet gave her a small smile and looked away, knowing she had her attention.  She uncrossed and crossed her legs.  She sipped the last few drops of her drink, and thanked the bartender for the drink as she got up to leave.  She felt Naomi’s eyes on her as she left.

These days, it seemed everything Harriet did was a calculated move.  She didn’t just want Naomi to talk to her, to find her interesting; rather, she wanted Naomi to go home and think about her as that mysterious woman in the bar with whom she hadn’t gotten the chance to talk.  She wanted Naomi to think of her with a tinge of longing, of possibility she hadn’t had the chance to explore.  She wanted Naomi to be primed for the next time she would see her.

Harriet waited a week and returned to The Fox the following Saturday, showing up almost an hour later than she had been the previous week.  She again paid the entrance fee and made her way to the bar.  A different bartender was working, but she followed the same routine of ordering a drink, sipping it slowly, and making friendly, if cautious, chitchat.  She knew this game.

Within ten minutes, Naomi appeared at her side.  “Hello,” Naomi said.  “May I buy you a drink?”

Harriet eyed her drink, which was mainly just the “rocks” left from her scotch on the rocks.  “Thank you,” she said, and she smiled at her.  “My name is Harriet.”

“Naomi.”

“I think I remember you,” Harriet replied.  “Were you here last week?”

“Yes, I was,” she said, her cheeks flushing and her mouth widening into a smile.  “And I definitely remember you.”

“Oh?” Harriet asked innocently.

“We don’t see many new faces around here,” Naomi replied, “And certainly none as gorgeous as yours.”

Harriet rewarded her with a smile and said, “The London scene grows old after a while.  I wanted a change.”

“You live in London?” Naomi asked.

“Mm-hmm,” she replied.  She looked at the bartender, and Naomi followed her eyes.

“The lady would like another drink,” Naomi said.

“Another scotch on the rocks?” the bartender asked.  Harriet nodded and said please.

“Thank you for the drink,” she said to Naomi.

“It’s my pleasure,” Naomi replied.

Harriet angled her body toward her, asking, “So, Naomi, what is it that you do for a living?”

Naomi seemed to stand up taller as she replied, “I’m the governor at Drake Hall – a woman’s prison in Staffordshire.”

Harriet carefully managed her expression as she said, “I’m familiar with it, actually.  That’s quite a feat – being a governor at your age.”  She looked her over appreciatively, and Naomi blushed again.  Harriet leaned in closer and, smiling slightly, asked, “Do you have any other talents?”

“I can think of one or two,” Naomi said, looking eager and pleased with herself.

Harriet smiled and accepted her drink from the bartender.  Naomi talked for a while about the demands of her work, how it required someone of maturity and sound judgment, and how it was a position of responsibility and respect.  She told Harriet about all the officers under her command.  Finally, she apologized for talking so much about herself and asked what Harriet did for a living.

Harriet hesitated then replied, “Don’t hold it against me, but I’m a Member of Parliament.”

Naomi looked momentarily stunned before asking, “Are you really?”

“I am,” Harriet replied, giving what she hoped passed for a humble smile.

“Wow, and look at me, going on about my position,” Naomi said.

“Oh no,” Harriet said, touching her arm, “What you do you is so interesting.  My day is full of meetings and hearings, and mostly paperwork.  It’s really quite mundane – nothing like working with prisoners.”

Naomi looked down at Harriet’s hand on her arm and then met her eyes, asking, “You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not,” Harriet replied, sliding her hand down Naomi’s arm, caressing her skin.  Naomi seemed to almost lean into her touch, and Harriet took that as her opportunity to seize the moment.  “Do you live around here?” she asked lightly.

“Yes, actually,” Naomi said, swallowing hard.  Harriet noted that her breathing seemed more rapid.  “It’s a quick walk, really.  Eight minutes, tops.”

“It’s a bit loud in here, don’t you think?” Harriet asked.

“We could go to my place,” Naomi offered,.

“That would be lovely,” Harriet replied.

#

Harriet waited until an appropriate amount of time seemed to have passed before she moved to collect her clothes from Naomi’s floor.  “I’m afraid I need to run and catch the train back,” Harriet told her.

“Oh,” she said, sounding disappointed.  “You’re sure you can’t stay longer?”

“Unfortunately, no.”  Harriet let her words linger before slipping her blouse on and adding, “Perhaps we could see each other next Saturday.  Do you have plans?”

“Really?” Naomi asked, sitting up, hugging the duvet in front of her chest.  “I mean, no, I don’t have any plans.”

Harriet turned toward her as she leaned over to pull her skirt up.  “Good,” she said, giving Naomi a small smile.  “Shall I meet you at The Fox, or… here?”

With a relaxed expression, Naomi smiled back at her and replied, “Here.  I’ll, uh, tidy up before then.”  She flushed, apparently embarrassed by the disarray of her flat. “Is five o’clock too late?  I’ll be working ‘til four that morning.”

“It’s perfect,” Harriet said.  She made a point to kiss Naomi goodbye.

Harriet looked out the window on the train, watching as the buildings and lights blurred into abstraction.  She was trying to assess whether she felt as though her actions were morally wrong.  She knew that they were, that she had purposely seduced that young woman – and not because she wanted sex.  Or at least, that wasn’t the primary reason.  Naomi was caught in her web. Harriet felt a small rush of exhilaration at how easy it had been and, more importantly, how in a couple of more weeks she would get what she needed from her.  With that thought, she felt a resurgence of guilt. 
Yet
, she wondered,
what was this small sin when lined up next to all her others?

When Harriet arrived home, she went immediately upstairs to the bathroom.  She stripped down and examined her neck, chest, and back for any love bites.  Glad to have found none, she opted for a long, hot shower, scrubbing the makeup off her face and feeling the water soak into her hair.

She couldn’t shake the feeling of being bothered by the course of events.  Naomi had been sincere in her lust and Harriet was confident that she had been a satisfying lover, so what was the problem?  Did she feel guilt because she enjoyed being with Naomi?  Should she have found a way to remain dispassionate and aloof? 
Well
, she thought,
it’s too late to go back now
.  But she knew she wouldn’t take it back even if she could, not when her actions had set her on the path to achieve her goal.

She turned off the water and toweled off, evaluating what her next steps should be when she returned the following week.

“Harriet?  Would you like something to eat?” a voice called up the stairs.  Harriet then heard him coming up the stairs.  He entered the bedroom where she was dressing and whistled appreciatively.

She looked over at Thomas and smiled as though nothing was wrong, then asked, “Were you calling for me?”

“I was just seeing if you’re hungry,” he replied, walking over and encircling his arms around her waist, kissing the side of her neck.  “Are you?”

She moved out of his embrace and said, “Not really, but I could go for a drink.”

“All right,” he said.  He hesitated, looking slightly annoyed, and added, “I just thought you wanted to have dinner together tonight.  Well, a really late dinner, it seems.  Otherwise, I may have gone out.”

“Sorry.  The day got away from me,” Harriet replied, putting her robe on over her pajamas.

He gave a small shrug and said, “It’s not a big deal.”  He looked away and she noted the hurt that was evident in his expression, but she couldn’t make herself say the right words, do the right things, that she knew would make him feel better.

Chapter Forty-Two

Harriet met with Naomi twice more before inviting her to London, ostensibly to have dinner at her house.  Harriet rather liked her.  Naomi had a straightforward personality – the kind of person who was exactly who she seemed to be.  She didn’t know much about the world, but in a way it was refreshing to talk to someone who didn’t appear to have many opinions about politics.  She was a somewhat inexperienced lover, but tireless and eager to please.

She would never hold Harriet’s interest – she was much too young, for one thing – but Harriet wasn’t looking for anything long-term.  Harriet only regretted the hurt feelings she would likely cause Naomi once she had gotten what she needed from her.

Harriet sent Thomas out of town for the weekend to meet with a small group of organization members living in Scotland.  In his absence, Harriet gave the house a light cleaning, instructed Navigator to play some soft music, and prepared to make dinner.

She opted to make risotto for Naomi.  The recipe called for 150 mils of white wine, and she gradually helped herself to the remainder of the bottle before Naomi arrived, knowing that although it was a substantial amount of wine, it would only dull her senses slightly.  She cooked while wearing a half-apron over a simple black dress that she knew to be flattering.  She wasn’t the type of woman who needed to ask someone else how her outfit looked or whether she looked okay; she knew.  She was scooping the risotto into a large serving bowl when the doorbell rang.

She tossed her apron into the laundry room and went to the door, opening it to reveal Naomi in a pair of dark, fitted trousers and a short-sleeved blouse.  She looked nice, and Harriet told her so.

“You look… stunning,” Naomi said with a hint of self-consciousness.

Harriet smiled and said, “Please come in.  You’re right on time for the risotto.”

“Sounds lovely,” she replied, walking through the threshold.  Her eyes took in the details of the house. 

Harriet showed her guest to the dining room, retrieving two glasses and a fresh bottle of white wine along the way.  “Would you pour while I fetch the risotto?” Harriet asked her.

“Yes, of course,” Naomi said, still seeming a bit intimidated.  Harriet didn’t want to cause her discomfort, but it was important that Naomi felt out of her element.

Harriet returned to the table with the risotto and set it in the middle between them, a lit candle on either side.

“All of this is really… lovely,” Naomi said, perhaps feeling at a loss for words.

Harriet lifted her glass, smiled, and said, “Well, to a ‘lovely’ evening then.” Naomi tapped her glass and they both drank.

Harriet served her guest first and then herself.  Looking up from the dinner table, Naomi said, “Your house is amazing, I have to say.”

“Thank you.  It was originally my grandparents’ house.”

“It’s the kind of grand home where I’d expect servants and all.  Especially considering your job, I mean.”

“I enjoy cooking, and even household chores.  It’s a stress reliever,” Harriet replied.

“Oh,” Naomi said.  After a moment she added, “If I knew you lived some place like this, I don’t think I’d have let you see my flat.”  She gave a small, self-deprecating smile.

“Nonsense,” Harriet replied.  Harriet let her insecurity hang in the air.  “You know, Naomi, there’s something I haven’t been able to get out of my mind.”  Inwardly, she thought,
Don’t screw this up, Harriet.

“Oh?” Naomi asked.

Harriet shook her head and said, “It doesn’t matter.  Forget I brought it up.”