The Paler Shade of Autumn (19 page)

They continue to walk, arms around each other. “I apologise. You did have a hectic schedule today, thanks to me consuming so much of your time.”

“It’s worth it. Now.” She smiles. “How was your day?”

“Oh, you know? Long.”

They collect Autumn’s luggage and meander to the parking lot, placing her bag in the boot of Jet’s more modest BMW SUV. The time is ten o’clock before they head out of the car park and through the streets of Sydney. Her body tingles as they approach the city lights, feeling the excitement of the place. People stroll along the footpaths, heading out of restaurants, venturing into bars, moving along to their next nightspot. Autumn watches from the window, smiling as they fly through the streets, barricaded on both sides by soaring high rises. The city feels alive, breathing, injecting life into Autumn’s weary body simply witnessing it.

A short time later they pull into an apartment building basement on Macquarie Street. “This is where your apartment is?” she asks, eyes wide, knowing all too well that only metres away is Circular Quay, home to the Sydney Opera House, and upon which one side of the Harbour Bridge rests.

He nods. “It’s central here.”

“It’s central alright.”

Jet grabs Autumn’s bag from the back of his car, slings it over his shoulder and accompanies her up the lifts; they open directly at his apartment—the penthouse. Autumn steps inside, feet clacking against the lacquered timber. For a moment she cannot speak, lost to the aesthetics of the apartment. The room is completely open plan, exposed pale brickwork, neutral coloured plaster and timber flooring throughout. Splashes of colour come only from the artwork hanging sporadically on the surfaces of the walls in a variety of sizes and shapes. Stealing her attention is the line of glass doors extending across the entire wall and the view that begins there and ends at the Sydney Harbour.

Autumn spins to face Jet who is watching her reaction attentively. “It’s beautiful.”

She paces towards the doors. Jet unlocks a sliding glass door and leads her onto the balcony. Autumn eagerly follows. “Oh. My. God. This is your apartment?” She can see the entire harbour, from the Opera House on the right, to the Harbour Bridge on the left, and all the beautiful sites in-between.

“That’s exactly what I said when this came on the market and I checked it out for the first time.”

“It’s the most incredible view. You’re very fortunate.”

His eyes drift over her face, down her body, back to her eyes. “I am so very fortunate,” he says stepping closer, taking her by the waist.

She rises on her tiptoes, kisses him. “I’ve seen the view, now are you going to show me your bedroom?” she whispers.

Jet contemplates that for a few moments, the slightest of smiles. “I should fly out of the state more often.” He grins even wider. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

Autumn raises her hands to his jacket lapels, peels it off his broad shoulders. “Five years is much too long for anyone to wait,” she says. He shrugs out of his jacket and throws it inside on the floor.

“I absolutely agree,” he says.

She begins now with his tie, loosening it. “I won’t wait any longer.”

Jet pulls his tie over his head and drops it on the balcony tiles. “Then follow me.”

Instinctively, he knows not to take her hand, offers his arm instead. She weaves her elbow through and follows him across the apartment to his bedroom. Autumn doesn’t see the room’s decor or the view from the floor-to-ceiling glass doors; she could just as easily be back in the pokey orphanage in India or a seven-star suite in Dubai’s Burg Al Arab. All she can see is Jet, all she wants to feel, to taste, smell, is Jet.

Autumn starts with his top button, then the next, till she opens his shirt and he shrugs it off his shoulders, revealing his hard torso. She smooths her hands over his shoulders, relishing the taut curves of his muscles. Against the incline, directly in the centre of his chest, she brings her lips to him, tasting the saltiness of his skin. Jet releases a long, slow breath, as she trails her lips up to his neck, the slight stubble earned over the day adding texture to the sensation. Autumn deftly removes his long black pants, letting them fall to the floor. Jet steps out of them, flicks off his shoes and socks and she slides off his briefs. He is already as solid as a rock.

“Now this is unfair,” he whispers, voice husky. “You’re still completely dressed.” He steps towards her, his hands moving to her blouse.

She raises her finger and stops him; pushes her hand against his chest. He falls back, seated on the bed and watches, jaw slack, lips slightly parted as she begins to unbutton the blouse herself. This is a personal show for him and his expression is enough to give her enough courage to carry it out, enough to make her feel sassy and totally sexy. Autumn peels her shirt off, reveals the sheer, black lace and mesh torsolette moulding to the curves she has hidden underneath. In the years since their last encounter, Autumn has gone up a size, dropped the girlish body, added some womanly curves. Jet’s lips curl, just a tad, not in a taunting way, but in a way that expresses his sheer gratitude.

Autumn unzips her skirt, lets it drop to the floor. His stare falls to the black fishnet stockings held in place by suspenders, attached to the tiniest of v-strings. She pulls her hairclip out, allowing her long russet hair to tumble around her shoulders and circles, just once, slowly.

“Mesmerising,” he whispers, his voice low and hoarse.

She saunters to him at the end of the bed and straddles his naked lap, slings her arms around Jet’s neck. She isn’t that twenty-one year old in practical white cotton underwear anymore and she wants him to know it. She is still the same Autumn, but there have been changes, she’s gained experience.

“I’ve grown up a little since we last met like this,” she says.

He takes her waist, runs a lingering stare over her body. “I can definitely see that. You are so beau—”

She presses her finger to his mouth. “Shut up,” she whispers.

He smiles and thrusts his lips against hers. He lifts her into his arms and lays her roughly on his bed. They don’t speak another word. What can be said?

Autumn awakens to the sun streaming through the windows and a view of the harbour that seems endless from her vantage point. The side of the bed where Jet has slept, arms wrapped tightly around her naked body, is empty. She sits up, rubbing her eyes, listening for a break in the silence his apartment maintains.

“Jet?” she calls to the emptiness.

Autumn throws back the silky, white sheet, stirring a piece of paper, sending it fluttering through the air. She grabs it as it lands again on the bed, near her feet. It’s a note from Jet:
Good morning beautiful. Didn’t want to wake you. Coffee supplies are low. Gone to buy some more. Won’t be long. Yours, Jet
.

She smiles. A personal message is so much more pleasant than a phone call from his diary secretary; however, his presence would be even better. Jet though, doesn’t seem like the type to laze around in bed, under any circumstances.

Autumn stretches her arms above her head and patters into the ensuite for a shower, which she notes also shares a view of the harbour. It amazes her, in the morning light, how incredibly bacheloresque his apartment is, yet utterly gorgeous. As she washes her face and hair under the hot stream of water, she observes the panorama, watches boats churn whitewash as they cruise over the harbour waters and seagulls circle, fly and dive.

Faintly in the background of her thoughts, Autumn hears the lift ding. She hurries to rinse the conditioner from her hair, though wonders, if she lingers long enough, will he join her. She smiles, her loins aching as this idea forces her to remember last night with Jet, the sensation of him inside her. Her breaths quicken.

“Good morning,” says Jet, strolling into the bathroom.

Autumn smiles. “Good morning.”

His gaze drifts over her body, a pleasurable smile playing on his lips. “Now this view exceeds any else offered by this apartment.”

“You’re very welcome to join me,” she says.

He rips his clothes off. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Mid-morning, Jet and Autumn stroll down the street to Circular Quay where they have a long, languid breakfast together at a small cafe, sipping coffee and nibbling on pastries. It’s a warm day, the sun blazing overhead, but the breeze off the water acts as a wonderful coolant, especially as they cross from the Quay to Darling Harbour by ferry.

Darling Harbour is crawling with tourists taking in the local attractions. It makes Autumn feel excited, as though she is on holiday, being led arm in arm around all the best sights by Jet, who knows the place back to front.

“We’ve done this before,” she says as they leave the underwater aquarium.

“Done what?” he asks.

“Where I’ve had the pleasure of playing tourist and you guide.”

He grins. “No Bodhi Tree here where I can steal a kiss.”

“You don’t need a tree as an excuse to kiss me.”

“I will take advantage of that.”

By late afternoon they end up at a bar eating Spanish Tapas and drinking Coronas. “I spoke to Jenny yesterday,” he says, pushing his fork into a baby octopus, sloshed in garlic oil.

“Yeah?”

“She’s getting married.”

Autumn’s eyes widen. “Wow. That’s great news.”

He nods. “He’s an American Buddhist who went over there on pilgrimage.”

“Perfect. Is he going to live in Bodh Gaya with her?”

“Yeah. He’s committed his services at the orphanage.” Jet takes a long pull of his beer. “I told her how I bumped into you again.”

“How did she react?”

“She cried.”

“Happy tears, I hope?”

“Definitely happy tears. Jenny had to endure what I went through after you left, so she of all people understands the enormity of us meeting again.”

“I can’t help wondering what would have happened had we maintained contact.”

“I’ve had that thought a couple of times myself.”

“Maybe it’s the way we meant it to be. Perhaps we needed to grow up first.”

Jet shrugs. “Grow up? Come on, I’m never going to grow up. It was just bad timing, that’s all, for both of us.”

“I do wish I’d been there though, when Darshan passed.”

He nods; expresses a sombre frown. “I wish you’d been there too. But we can’t change the past, so no use dwelling on it.” He reaches for her hand, an act of intimacy, and then flinches back before their hands touch.

Her eyes narrow.
What is he hiding from me?
She is tempted to snatch his hand into hers. But she resists, determined to keep this relationship as normal as possible and to trust that if it is important enough, Jet will tell her in his own time.

“Jenny wants us to attend her wedding in April next year. I thought, if you like, we can go over there together.”

“Absolutely, I’d love to go.” She chews on a piece of chorizo. “How do you feel about going back, though?”

Jet nods, shrugs, then throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know. Scared, anxious, excited. I’m going to have to be fine. It’s been five years.”

“It holds a lot of memories for you that place. I understand that.”

“I sometimes think you’re the only one who really does understand. You’ve seen my deepest memories. You’ve glimpsed my life before India, saw with incredible detail the day I met Darshan. You met him, as well as the other children. You saw firsthand the work I did at the orphanage. Now, once again you share my life. You know my past and my present. I so desperately, don’t want to disappoint Darshan’s memory or Jenny or Master Shen with who I am now.”

“How so?”

“I often wonder if I’m doing enough, compensating enough for not remaining in Bodh Gaya. I don’t want to go back to Bodh Gaya, to the orphanage, and see that I’m not doing enough.”

Autumn reaches for him, rests her hand on his thigh. “You’ve affected thousands and thousands of lives in an incredibly beneficial way. That’s nothing to sneeze at. I would give anything to create so much impact. I’ve had my charity for a little on four years and have nowhere near made the inroads you have. I’m sure Jenny and Master Shen can see that well enough and I’m sure Darshan would be very proud.”

Jet shrugs, takes another long pull of his beer.

“Jet, you can’t spend the rest of life trying to make it up to Darshan because you never will. You can make a massive contribution to the world, save hundreds of children, educate many, but nothing will ever reverse his death, nor will it bring him back.”

“I’m not trying to bring him back.” He sighs. “I know that can never happen. I just miss him so much and I don’t know how I can face that place, knowing he isn’t going to be there.”

Autumn stands and moves to his side. She takes his face in her hands. “I know you miss him.”

“Where were you when I needed you back then?”

She kisses him slowly before answering, “Finishing uni and regretting not giving you my phone number.”

“You and me both.”

She kisses him again. “But with or without those contact details, we still managed to find each other.”

Jet runs his hand down her cheek, brushes his lips against hers. “Proving we’re meant to be together. From that first moment we met, we were meant to be together.”

The afternoon turns into night and they dress formally for their reservation at Aria, a restaurant only a stroll from Jet’s apartment, with a view of the iconic Opera House. They do not speak of gloomy topics again that evening, only cheerful banter is exchanged along with the occasional lingering stare, touch of the cheek, slow kiss, as they consume eight courses, each meal matched with wine far out of Autumn’s usual league.

At midnight they leave the restaurant and stagger back to Jet’s apartment, both decadently tipsy and blissful being in each other’s company, with the mindset of no work tomorrow, and only the imminent intimacy they will indulge in tonight, followed by a lazy Sunday morning sleep-in.

The elevator dings as it stops at Jet’s floor, but they don’t hear it, too enraptured in each other, kissing, touching, tasting as though they will never be given the opportunity again. The doors open and close twice until Jet hits the button with his foot, as both hands are otherwise occupied with her body, and leads a giggling Autumn out by her wrist.