The Paler Shade of Autumn (17 page)

She nods. “I see it.”

He closes his eyes and averts his head to the sunshine and cool salty breeze. “We talk too much and think too much about why and how. How about we simply just
be
?”

Autumn takes a deep breath in and answers, “Sure. I can do that.”

She jumps up, kicks her sandals off and pulls her dress down her body, hastily stepping out of it. “First one to the water,” she is already turning and starting a mad dart across the sand, “is the winner.”

The hot sand burns the soles of her feet as she races towards the ocean. Jet has already flung his shirt and shoes off and, in no time, is gaining on her. She has no time to admire his muscles flex and contract with each step forward; one thing she has never been is a fast runner.

He is at her side when her feet feel the wet, grey sand of the ocean’s edge. He grabs her by the waist and bundles her into his strong arms, carrying her over the crashing waves while she chokes with laughter and giggles until they are as deep as his waist. Next thing she feels his strong arms pulling her down and she quickly holds her breath before he plunges her into the cool, salty ocean. She rises from the water, totally saturated, grinning as the moisture from her hair sluices down her face and body in tiny rivulets. “You cheated,” she says.

He gives a laugh deep from his belly, slightly out of breath. “I just used my advantage. And besides, you didn’t give any rules.”

She splashes him. Then again. Jet grabs her by the waist and pulls her into his body. She jumps into his arms, curling her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. And, as though it is the first time she has ever tasted his delicious lips, she kisses him.

“I can get used to this no-thinking thing,” he says.

“Shut up,” she whispers and thrusts her lips against his again.

Michael cuts into his enormous steak smothered with creamy prawns and scallops. Before he shovels the next succulent piece into his mouth he stops and looks across the table to Autumn. She has just finished telling him about how she came to know Jet and of the fire they ignited so many years ago, which has remained unextinguished for the last five years. She explained the night in the hotel, the origins of the Burberry dress she wore on Tuesday and her and Jet’s wonderful day yesterday at the beach.

“Sleeping with the boss,” he says, shaking his head, but grinning devilishly. “Who hasn’t fantasised about such a scenario. Sex on the boardroom table. Sex in the office on the desk, the floor, the window ledge. Sex on the reception desk when all the staff have gone home.”

Autumn cracks up laughing. “You really have thought about it, a lot,” she says. “But technically, we aren’t sleeping together.”

“Even more exciting,” Michael says, now chewing on his food. “The anticipation, the tension, the sexual energy that is pulsating and blazing every time you’re alone, in desperate need of being extinguished.”

Autumn raises a single eyebrow. “Now you’re starting to scare me.”

He laughs. “I know. I sat through a lot of really terrible porn before I met Richard. Now he is the recipient of all the useful knowledge gained in my years of loneliness.”

“That is way too much—very terrible—information, thank you, Michael.”

He smiles. “My pleasure.” Michael cuts and pushes another morsel of steak into his mouth. He looks down at his plate. “This is really good.”

“Mine too.”

He narrows his eyes and a mischievous smile dances on his lips. “I hope all this talk of meat doesn’t leave you craving the taste of someone else’s?”

She lets her fork clang onto her plate. “You truly are disgusting, you know that don’t you?”

He shrugs. “Disgusting, truthful, it’s all subjective.”

“We are taking it slow.”

“For God’s sake, why would you do such a thing? You’ve already tasted the apple, the sin’s been committed, why draw it out?”

“I want to make sure I know who he is and that he knows who I am. Despite what he says, I’m waiting for him to realise that I draw an eighty thousand dollar a year salary as opposed to his millions and that I’m not some Hollywood actress or anything special.”

“What does he say?”

“He’s says our connection is…” she lowers her eyes, demurely, “spiritual.”

Michael chokes on his wine. “Spiritual? Bullshit, he just wants a taste of your hoo-hah again.”

“Come on out of the gutter, please, I beg you. He’s not like that, not anymore anyway, or at least I hope he’s not.”

“Fine. He says it’s a spiritual connection, but Autumn, you ooze sex appeal, he’d be blind if that doesn’t play a part in his interest.”

Autumn shakes her head, feeling her cheeks blaze.

“And the best thing about that is you have no idea. A woman, who drips sex, yet doesn’t know it—the rarest most tantalising combination. You’d be blowing his fucking mind right now taking it slow. It’s quite an intelligent move, really.”

“It isn’t some concocted move.”

Michael shrugs. “Whether you’re aware of it or not, it’s a move. And besides, I wouldn’t worry too much; he wouldn’t be a man or is gay, if he isn’t jumping at the chance to have you park your shoes under his bed.”

“I really don’t know how to take your attempt at reassuring me, such measures of vulgarity and compliments both.”

“No need to thank me,” he says, that cheeky smile creeping onto his face.

“Oh, don’t worry. I wasn’t.”

Back in the building, Scott meets Autumn in the hall outside the door to her office. “Jet would like to see you in his office.”

Michael winks at Autumn, stifling a smirk and walks off to his own office.

“Sure, Scott. I’ll just put my bag down.”

“Never mind. You’ll be needing it.”

Autumn’s eyes widen. “Oh, ok.” She follows Scott down the hall, purposefully not peering into Michael’s office, yet feeling his devious stare on hers as they stride past.

Jet is at his desk, on the phone when she arrives. Scott gestures for her to take a seat and then turns back out of the office, closing the door behind him. Autumn eases into the chair opposite Jet, smiling as he greets her with a grin.

“How are you?” Jet asks when he places the phone back onto the receiver.

“Good. I was starting to wonder if you were in today. Have you been busy?”

He nods. “That’s a lesson for taking the day off yesterday. But you know,” he leans across his desk, grinning, “you can come to my office any time you want.”

“I thought we had some kind of silent agreement that I had to wait for your messenger boy to collect me.”

Jet laughs. “I actually made you a personal visit today. But your office was empty. Scott was doing the second run.”

“I was having lunch with Michael.”

He nods. “I know. You and
him
are good friends?”

“Yes.” She smiles. “He’s also gay, in case you’re wondering.”

“I know. I checked it out.”

Autumn shakes her head. “What is it you need me for?”

He shrugs. “I was hoping we could grab lunch together. You know, the long, late afternoon lunches that end a few hours shy of midnight.”

Autumn glances at her watch. “It’s two o’clock. Office policy is that an hour lunch is to be taken between one and two.”

“I should know that, shouldn’t I? See that’s the problem I have, not having someone who can dictate lunch times to me, I tend to work off my own schedule.”

“We can have lunch tomorrow?” she suggests.

Jet frowns. There is genuine sorrow in his expression. “I have to fly out tomorrow to Sydney and won’t be back until Monday night. I really wanted to spend some time together before I go.”

She shrugs a single shoulder. “I only had a small steak with salad, I’m sure I can squeeze in dessert and at least two coffees.”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says, standing. “Let’s go.”

“Let me check my appointments, I think I have a client at four, so we will need to be back before then.”

He shakes his head and takes her by the arm, leading her towards the office door. “Don’t worry about it. Scott’s rescheduled. Your four o’clock is now ten o’clock tomorrow.”

“How presumptuous of you.”

He takes her by the waist and pulls her towards him, chest on chest, and covers Autumn’s lips with his own. “I simply wasn’t going to take no for an answer.”

Voicing her answer:
reclusive
to Jet’s usual question, they end up at his hotel suite, the balcony table beautifully prepared ahead of time by the ever attentive staff. The city is blanketed by endless blue sky, barely a cloud, allowing for the most perfect view of the compact high-rises, parks and the winding river from their vantage. Behind the soft tunes that pervade the air around them, the faint drone of life and traffic and the busy workaday-world drifts up to the heights of the suite, but it is miles away in their minds. For on the balcony, only the two of them exist as they offer their stories to one another for hours, drinking coffee and port and eating spoonfuls of delicious desserts.

They witness the shades of the sky transform from blue to hues of pinks and orange as the sun sets, to a glowing inky-black as the moon shines its full light. With minds muzzy from alcohol, they decide to head out for dinner. Arm in arm, they stroll through the city to a rustic side-street restaurant offering whole grilled prawns and fresh oysters, scallops and boutique beer. An Irish band with acoustic guitars and rough brogues play songs of love and loss accelerating into a jovial knee-slapping canter as the night progresses and the beer muddles both of their minds, the combination elevating their moods. At eleven o’clock they roll out onto the street, arms loosely swathed around each other’s waists.

Autumn eyes a taxi as it passes, wondering if she should flag it down. Jet catches her glance. “Stay with me tonight. We don’t have to—I just want to be near you.”

If her mind wasn’t so fuzzy from the beer, from the wonderful evening, from the music and laughter and atmosphere of the restaurant, she would say no, but gazing up at Jet, seeing his buttery brown eyes, his broad, tall frame, the light spatter of freckles across his nose, she finds herself nodding instead. He entices her physically, especially now when her inhibitions are relaxed, but more than anything, she simply wants to be near him, to lie beside him in his bed and wrap her arm around his waist; hear the regular rise and fall of his chest as he sleeps. Autumn’s feelings are magnified, her wants intensified, because she knows it will be four days and four nights where he is in Sydney and she is here in Brisbane wishing she was with him.

They walk through the foyer of the hotel, hushed and dim and ride the elevator to his suite. “I once again have no clothes,” she says, looking down at the work apparel she has worn all day long.

“I’ll drop you home tomorrow en route to the airport. For tonight, you can wear one of my shirts if you’re modest or” he offers a cheeky grin, “nothing at all, if you are feeling generous.”

Autumn smiles. “I think I’ll opt for a t-shirt.”

“As for underwear, I can organise with reception to send something up.”

She quickly shakes her head. “No. That’s embarrassing. I’m sure you have a shirt long enough to cover the necessary bits and pieces.”

“I’m kinda wishing I wore extra-small now.”

Autumn shakes her head.

“You can go first for the shower. We better hit the sack, my flight’s early.”

“How early?” she asks, shoulders sagging.

“Nine. Not so early that we can’t get some good hours in and sleep off some of this beer.”

Autumn takes her time showering and dresses into a bathrobe. It feels wonderful to have her body and teeth clean after such a long day. Towel wrapped around her hair, she tramples out to the bedroom where Jet is waiting on the bed, dressed only in his long black pants; tie, shirt and shoes already off. Spending the entire afternoon in the sun yesterday seems to have darkened his already generous tan, defining his tight torso even more so. Suddenly she is aware of her nakedness under the robe and how incredible Jet is. She controls her eyes, at least conspicuously, from admiring his broad shoulders and well-defined chest.

Jet holds a white printed t-shirt in the air for her, his biceps contracting, the stringiness of his shoulders more than evident. Autumn snatches it from him, “Thanks,” and whisks back into the bathroom to change, grateful when she finds that it hangs down to her mid-thigh.

Russet, wet hair hanging loosely over her shoulders, the thin, white t-shirt moulding to the curves of her body, fitting snugly around her breasts, she returns to the bedroom. She does not miss Jet’s lingering glance along the length of her body as she steps towards him. Instead of feeling self-conscious, she feels sexy. It is something in his look, his jaw slack, lips moist, eyes penetrating, which screams desire and want and lust: gratifying and complimentary both that she can have this effect wearing only a white, cotton t-shirt.

He stands. “I’ll be out soon.”

While Jet showers she finds a bottle of water in the fridge and skols down almost a quarter of it in a single gulp then sits on the bed and waits for him to finish. He doesn’t take long, appearing at the side of the bed, decked only in a pair on boxer shorts.

“Am I in the spare bed?” he asks.

She glances across the room all the way to where the second bedroom lies behind the closed sliding doors and shakes her head.

The slightest of smiles touches his lips. “I was hoping that was your answer.”

He pulls the covers back and crawls into the bed, lying back against the soft pillows. Autumn joins him, pulling the sheet over her body.

“You’re a bad influence keeping me up so late on a work night,” she says.

He grins. “And here I was thinking you’re a willing participant.”

Autumn nods. “Definitely willing.”

Jet trails his fingers across Autumn’s cheek, strokes some loose strands of long hair behind her ear. “I have a proposition for you,” he says.

“Yes?”

“Fly to Sydney on Friday night and stay with me at my apartment for the weekend?”

Autumn’s eyes widen.

“I don’t have any meetings on the weekend; we can spend the entire time together,” he says.