Читать книгу Reverie - Candace Gold - Страница 5

Chapter 2

Nikki landed at Roissy/Charles de Gaulle Airport which serviced the northern half of Paris. Orly, the smaller international airport, serviced the southern part of the city. The processing through French customs after disembarking was long, but not as time-consuming as Nikki feared it would be. The seven-hour flight itself hadn’t been too bad, either. Though the plane was full, there were no screaming, unruly children. She’d been lucky in her seat assignment, having been given an aisle seat next to an elderly couple more interested in sleeping than matching her up with their grandson, who always turned out to be gay or a Sumo wrestler look-alike.

After napping for an hour and feeling refreshed, she filled the rest of her travel time with writing a short piece for her column and reading several chapters of a suspense novel she’d bought in the airport before taking off. The time passed quickly and when she heard the pilot announce their arrival, she couldn’t contain her excitement. This was what she’d always wanted to do. And now it was happening…

Glad to leave the crowded, busy airport which so reminded her of JFK back home, Nikki retrieved the instructions given her by the concierge of the apartment building on avenue Foch and hailed a taxi. She gave the address of the apartment to the driver, and he pulled away from the curb. She wasn’t tired or the least bit jet-lagged. Instead, she found herself wired. The city, which had captured her childhood fantasies, now beckoned to her. And it was now only a few miles from her grasp.

* * * *

Nikki should be landing in Paris by now, Jonathan thought. For the tenth time, he glanced at the watch Nikki had given him as a gift. Each minute that passed was a constant reminder of her absence. He could not shake the ominous feeling that he should have stopped Nikki from going alone. He should have tried harder to get her to delay her trip for a few days while he rescheduled his appointments to join her. However, she probably wouldn’t have agreed to wait. After all, she was going there to get away from him. Wasn’t that what needing one’s space meant? What if she met a charming Frenchman?

Jonathan had fallen in love with Nikki nearly from the night they had met. When their paths first crossed at a fundraiser for the children’s hospital affiliated with his practice, he was intrigued by her. She and a male columnist from her newspaper had been seated at his table. Though she remained quiet, it was her hair that shouted her presence. A brilliant shade of red, it shimmered and glistened under the room’s lighting. He was drawn to her attractive oval face with delicately carved cheekbones and upturned nose, a face whose dominant feature was her large, extraordinary blue eyes tending to sparkle like precious gems when she laughed at his silly jokes. Her lips were full and bore only the hint of lipstick. And he found himself wondering how her temptingly curved mouth would taste.

Jonathan introduced himself and they fell into an easy conversation. He soon discovered her understated wit and slightly offbeat sense of humor. Nikki was the antithesis of the women he’d been seeing who were often clingy and wanted to get married after the third date. She was more independent and seemed to know what life path she was taking. He’d asked for her telephone number and watched as her long, slim fingers opened the clasp on her beaded-black purse and removed a business card from a gold holder.

When he had called two days later and asked her to dinner, she had accepted. That first date, two years before, had marked the beginning of their relationship. It wasn’t long after that Jonathan knew he wanted Nikki to become a permanent fixture in his life. And up until now, he’d thought she’d wanted the same future.

Their relationship, though vibrant and exciting, was far from a smooth ride. He’d already circumvented more potholes than a New York City street. Granted, he was far from perfect himself, but Nikki had an acerbically quick temper. Having a short fuse, it would erupt and then fizzle just as quickly but not before an ensuing argument. Usually the spats were over silly things, which he thought resulted from the stress of writing a newspaper column with its too many deadlines.

Then there was her annoyance with the blurring of the line separating his professional and personal life. She disliked any encroachment of his practice into their personal time. Sometimes she had a valid reason for going off on him, but there had been times when he felt she was overreacting and merely acting selfish or even childish. Being a psychologist, he knew there might very well be an underlying reason for her petulant behavior. However, he knew little of Nikki’s past and could only speculate.

She didn’t speak much about her family, shutting him right down if he tried to initiate a conversation about her parents. Whenever he asked Nikki about her parents and how they died, she’d become evasive. Knowing she lost both of them within a few months of each other, Jonathan figured it had been traumatic and a pivotal marker in Nikki’s life. He’d meant to do some research into her background but never got around to it. On the other hand, he always thought that when she felt secure and safe in the confines of their relationship, she’d tell him herself. Perhaps now, after two years, he should reevaluate that position.

* * * *

Nikki tried to mentally photograph everything she saw as her cab approached Paris. The driver, Habib, was Moroccan and his English was passable. However, when he discovered she spoke French well, he seemed delighted to be her unofficial tour guide, pointing out everything of importance that they passed. She found the need to pinch herself to confirm she was really in Paris and had to restrain herself from hopping out of the cab and checking each landmark more intimately.

Paris had been divided into twenty districts called Arrondissements. Her apartment was situated in the sixteenth Arrondissement. According to Habib, this was where the wealthy people lived and shopped. As they drove through the area, she could see why. It had beautiful homes, several museums and a gorgeous park.

“This is the widest road in Paris,” he said as he turned onto avenue Foch. “It goes from the Porte Dauphine in Bois de Boulogne, clear to the Arc de Triomphe.”

“Isn’t my apartment along this street?”

“Yes. We are almost there. It is on the next block, mademoiselle.”

When the driver pulled to the curb in front of a white stone building, she knew they’d arrived. She got out of the cab quickly and looked at the structure. The area was well-lit, and she was able see the smooth elegance of the five-story limestone structure which towered over the nearby park in what looked more like suburbia than a city block. There were well-maintained trellises of ivy adorning its front, with two stone flowerpots filled with colorful flowers flanking both sides of the entrance. The arched basement-apartment windows bore iron gratings, and an elaborately designed wrought-iron fence ran across the entire length of the second floor. Admiringly, she wondered how much history this building had witnessed. She was thrilled and felt lucky she’d picked an apartment in such a beautiful and well-kept district.

Habib helped carry her luggage inside the vestibule. She thanked and paid him. Then she buzzed the concierge.

Within minutes, a tired-looking, middle-aged man of medium height and thinning black hair appeared at the glass door wearing a flannel shirt with a torn pocket and ancient-looking blue coveralls. He had a streak of grease across his right cheek. “Oui. Est-ce que je peux vous aider?”

Nikki easily translated the can I help you and explained in French who she was. The man broke out into a huge smile. Speaking their language seemed to have that effect on the French. Which made her glad she had learned to speak the language so well.

“Bonjour! Je suis Pierre. Bienvenue vers Paris,” he gushed warmly as he welcomed her and began to chatter away as if they were long-lost friends. “Please forgive my appearance,” he said, taking a rag from his pocket and wiping his hands, “trouble with the boiler.”

He grabbed the two heaviest pieces of luggage and led the way to the wrought-iron lift which would take them to her apartment on the second floor.

He stopped in front of 206. “This is your flat.” He opened the door and brought her bags inside.

Nikki followed behind him. As she entered, she immediately felt a strange feeling of déjà vu that she’d been in this apartment before. Of course, that was impossible. She’d never been to Paris as an adult, let alone this particular apartment. Her parents had brought her on one of their vacations when she was a baby, but as far as she knew, they had always stayed in hotels. Still…the feeling clung to her like a second skin as she walked into a room which looked as if it had been frozen in time.

“Does it meet your approval?” the concierge asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“Why…yes. It’s lovely...and so…quaint. Thank you for your help, Pierre.”

“I’m at your disposal, mademoiselle. Apartment B1.” He handed her the key and left.

Nikki thanked the man again and closed the door quickly, now intent upon exploring the apartment. The room in which she stood had been listed on the website as a sitting room. The furniture, she guessed, was Victorian with its tall-backed matching magenta velvet sofa, love seat and chair. She noticed their intricately carved wooden legs. She sat down on the overstuffed sofa, which was very comfortable, and looked around the room at the wallpapered walls decorated with rich, black velvet brocade. The windows were covered with flowing drapery panels topped with swagged silk valances.

There was a large, gold, ornately-carved wooden oval mirror hanging over a fireplace. The fireplace itself was white and had green columns on either side with a hand-painted mantle top. It seemed too lovely to use and, from the looks of it, hadn’t been in a while. A large expensive-looking Persian area rug covered the polished, dark hardwood floor.

The next room into which she ventured was definitely a man’s study. In one corner of the room, close to a tall bookcase filled with leather-bound books, stood a large, dark, hardwood desk with an oversized, button-tufted, high-back, leather chair. At a glance, Nikki could tell that whoever had lived here had eclectic taste. There were as many art and music books as there were novels and non-fiction books. She read some of the titles of the leather-bound novels on the shelf, noticing books by Jules Verne, Balzac, Flaubert and Zola. The room was illuminated by two simple light fixtures which hung from the high ceiling. An upright piano stood against the wall between two windows. Though it looked like any ordinary piano, she thought she’d seen that particular one before. Probably in a movie like The Sting. It reminded her of the old-time player pianos in the saloons of the Old West.

She suddenly felt herself being drawn to the piano as if it was a magnet. When she reached it, she noticed the disagreeable odor of stale tobacco hovering around it. She thought it strange the odor lingered only there, but when she saw the pages of a book of sheet music on the piano flutter open, she stood aghast. Realizing she was overreacting to what must be a draft, she laughed at herself for forgetting the building was old and most likely drafty. She glanced down at the musical score on the opened page. Reverie. The name sounded familiar, though she couldn’t understand why. She was fairly certain she’d never heard the song played before.

A small overhead chandelier illuminated the sheen on the polished dark wood. This piano was a beauty. Even she could see that. Nikki sat down on the bench and lifted the lid to reveal keys yellowed with age. Without a second thought, she ran the tips of her fingers across the keyboard as lightly as a lover’s caress. She hadn’t touched a piano since her grandmother gave up trying to teach her in disgust. Being an unruly child, wanting to go outside to play with her friends, she’d merely mastered the rudimentary skills and could only play tunes like Chop Sticks and Papa Haydn.

She glanced down at the notes on the page and lowered her hands to the keys. Then, as if by magic, she began to play the haunting song. She wasn’t certain if she was more shocked or bewildered by her unexpected skill. The strain of the beautiful melody filled the apartment. As she played, Nikki closed her eyes, feeling the music touch her very soul as the same weird feeling of déjà vu washed over her again, as if she’d heard this romantic song many times before. Not only had the piece moved her deeply, she sensed it meant something more. The ‘how’ and ‘why’ remained a total mystery to her. Suddenly, she felt someone’s hand on her shoulder and jumped up off the stool. Spinning around quickly, she saw no one. It had to be her imagination, though she still found it difficult to slow her racing heart. She slammed the piano lid down with trembling hands and steadied herself against the instrument. All this weird stuff had to be caused by the excitement of being in Paris, she reassured herself, but she rushed from the room just the same, hoping to err on the side of caution.

Although a bit shaken, Nikki resumed her tour of the apartment. The master bedroom possessed a mahogany dresser with brass handles, a matching armoire and two night tables flanking either side of the bed. Against one wall stood a wood makeup stand with a garish gold mirror. Chubby, half-naked cherubs had been carved into the top. The makeup stand may have been considered beautiful in its day, but its gaudiness made Nikki giggle. She walked over to the window and parted the heavy brocade drapes and the thin, lacy silk ones beneath. The view of the park would be spectacular during daylight, she thought, lingering a moment before walking into the next bedroom.

This room, half the size of the previous one, had only one large window. It possessed a day-bed covered with an embroidered white spread and a small white dresser with matching night table. A small ornate mirror hung on the wall above the dresser. She had the impression that this room once belonged to a young girl.

The bathroom, completely tiled in black and white, was large and something out of the late 1800s. It was definitely a sight to behold, with its ancient-looking fixtures. The bathtub was a huge elliptical porcelain structure sitting on gold claw feet. Two people could easily stretch out and bathe together. The sink sat on a fancy pedestal and had a dainty pink floral design etched into its porcelain. Tubular-handled, porcelain and gold faucets turned the water on and off.

An ancient-looking, gold-framed mirror hung on the wall over the sink. Parts of it had dark smudges making it no longer usable. A wooden medicine chest had been placed on the wall to the right of the mirror. Curious, Nikki opened it and found an ancient lather brush in a small porcelain cup. Next to it was a folded, straight razor.

Nikki’s eyes moved next to the toilet tank. It had a fancy inlaid porcelain design similar to the one in the sink, something she’d never seen before. The floor tiles were small black and white hexagons, reminding Nikki of the wire used to make pigeon coops. It was most likely the original floor, as well. She didn’t care about any of that. As long as she had running hot water and the toilet flushed, she’d be a happy camper.

Why shouldn’t she? She was in Paris! The magical city of her dreams since she was a child. She hugged her shoulders and went back into the sitting room. The stars shimmered in the dark sky above the beautiful jeweled city, beckoning to her like the enchanting music of a Siren. She’d unpack later. Grabbing her purse and the apartment key, she headed toward the door.

Nikki had prepared competently for this trip, arming herself with maps and directions to all the major sights. She’d even downloaded a map of the Metro, Paris’ subway system. However, tonight she felt like splurging and hailed a taxi. How better to see the beautiful City of Lights at night than from the top of the Eiffel Tower? She intended to have dinner at the restaurant located on the second floor, nestled inside the giant landmark which overlooked the magnificent city like a sentinel.

The restaurant was crowded, but because she was alone, the maitre d’ found her a small table by a window. She ordered Potage d’oignon, Steak Frites, Coq au Vin, and for dessert, Tart au Citron. She knew she’d be overeating by ordering the French fries and lemon tart, but this was her first meal in Paris and she wanted to remember it. The waiter brought her some red wine, which she sipped while gazing down on the glory that was Paris. The lights illuminated the Seine, and she saw a covered party boat gliding along, filled with tourists enjoying the sights. In the distance stood the mighty Arc de Triomphe. So much history and beauty lay before her. She hardly knew where to begin.

When the waiter brought Nikki her salad and a large basket of assorted rolls, she ordered another glass of wine. Browsing through her Paris tourist guide, she hardly felt self-conscious sitting alone in a city known for its romance. Though there were couples huddled close together drinking in each other’s presence with their eyes, Nikki was too busy making an itinerary for the following day to notice.

The waiter brought out her main course. Hungry, she began to eat with relish, stopping only momentarily to wipe off the dollop of sauce which had dripped on the page of her guide book. By the time her dessert and coffee arrived, she was winding down. Her body had begun to run out of steam.

Nikki paid her check and took another taxi back to the apartment. Once inside, she locked the door and went straight into the bedroom. She sat down on the goose-down bed and removed her shoes. Exhausted, she quickly stripped off her clothes and put on an oversized t-shirt.

She rummaged through her carry-on for her toiletry case and brought it into the bathroom to prepare for bed. Back once more in the bedroom, Nikki drew down the bedspread and blanket from the inviting bed and slipped between the crisp linen sheets. Sleeping in a strange bed had always been difficult for her, but tonight her exhaustion overcame all opposition and she fell asleep as soon as her head hit the overstuffed down pillows.

* * * *

When Nikki had failed to call Jonathan to let him know she’d arrived in Paris safely, he grew concerned. Her plane would have touched down around eight o’clock Paris time. He’d hoped it hadn’t become a case of “out of sight; out of mind.” As silly as it might seem, he feared she’d fall in love with Paris and want to remain there. Then she’d meet a Frenchman and forget him. Eating leftover Chinese food for dinner over the sink, he pictured himself doing this on a permanent basis if he lost Nikki. Sitting down and eating food like a human being at the kitchen table wasn’t the only thing Nikki had improved on, he thought and smiled. However, the warm moment passed just as quickly as it had come. Why hadn’t she called?

No longer hungry, Jonathan put the white carton aside and reached for his cellphone. There was a six-hour time difference making it around 2:30 AM in France. He would send a text message, asking her to call to let him know she was okay and that tomorrow he’d call at a more decent hour.

* * * *

Nikki dreamed in French, as if starring in a foreign film without subtitles. In the dream, she was strolling along a beach with the same bearded man from the cafe. He wore a straw hat with a red band over his dark hair. He had a large forehead and a full, well-trimmed beard. His three-piece, summer weight worsted suit was open and he sported a black, wooden walking stick. From time-to-time, he’d pull out his watch attached to a gold chain and check the time. She held a brightly-colored silk parasol over her head to block out the strong sunlight. High above them she heard the cacophonous squawking of sea gulls circling the shimmering, cloudless blue sky. Every so often, one would boldly swoop down to grab some morsel of food it had spotted on the ground. The boardwalk was so hot she could feel the heat radiating through the thin soles of her high-laced leather boots.

She spied the gabled roof of the Grand Hotel in the distance. As they walked along, the man held her arm affectionately, patting it now and then, stopping often to kiss her, his full beard gently caressing her face like silken fingertips. Those tender kisses sent delicious sensations throughout her body and spoke of the promise of what was yet to come. They were returning to their room at the hotel to make love. He whispered how he wanted to lie with her as the afternoon sun streamed through the window, turning her hair to flame.

Small red and white striped cabanas stood like silent sentries on the sand facing the entrance of the building. Men attired in suits and straw hats or bowlers sat reading newspapers along the stone wall overlooking the water. Boats signaled one another with a sharp toot of their horns as they passed. Women sat on benches doing needlework while their children frolicked in the sand. Many of them, like Nikki, wore long skirts or dresses that came down to the tops of their shoes and feathered hats to shield their heads from the strong rays of the sun.

Nikki and her lover stopped at the front desk. The clerk handed the man a letter along with the room key. He glanced briefly at the envelope before slipping it into a breast pocket of his suit jacket.

“I’ll read this later, my darling,” he said. “Right now, I have more important business to tend to.”

Nikki lowered her eyes to the obvious bulge in his wool suit pants. This further increased the rate of her heart which was now beating wildly in her breast with the anticipation of their lovemaking. The couple stepped into the ornate wrought-iron elevator car, and the attendant pulled the gate closed with a clang. Her lover looked at her with adoring eyes. She smiled in return. The lift began to ascend slowly, taking them to their floor. When they reached their destination, the elevator attendant pushed open the gate and nodded to them as they walked out of the elevator car.

Their room was a short distance on the right. The man opened the door with an iron key and Nikki stepped inside. As soon as the door had been closed behind them, the bearded man took her into his arms and kissed her passionately. The kiss was filled with hunger, and she returned it with fervent familiarity.

They moved further into the room, and he removed his jacket and vest, carefully folding and placing both across the back of a richly embroidered armchair. Opening his arms, Nikki glided inside their shelter.

His full beard tickled the soft flesh of her neck as he kissed her there.

“My love,” she whispered, encouraging him.

Together they walked arm-in-arm into the bedroom. Nikki sat down on the bed and watched as the man methodically removed his clothes. He was somewhat of a bohemian, possessing a freer spirit than most and completely unabashed by his own nudity. His body was compact and somewhat fleshy around the middle, but virile and most capable of satisfying her every need. As she watched him, she did so without blushing. She enjoyed what she saw and felt her own body respond by sending shivers of delight surging through her. She wanted him and longed to be in his arms.

He sat down beside her and snaked his hand under her long skirt and petticoat before firmly clasping her bottom. She felt the heat of his skin sear through her linen knickers. He sought out the center of her sex and rubbed vigorously, sending fiery sparks of pleasure coursing throughout her body. His long fingers deftly opened her blouse, and she shrugged her shoulders out of it before he set to work on her corset, freeing her heaving breasts which longed to be touched and suckled by him.

One hand fondled a rosy peak, causing it to harden as his lips fastened around her other nipple with tantalizing possessiveness. She quivered with pleasure as her body arched instinctively. The man’s lips began an exploratory journey along her ivory skin as his hands followed closely, arousing her still further. Her soft moans soon filled the room.

He helped her remove the rest of her undergarments, and his eyes feasted upon her lovely body. His gaze turned her bones to liquid as she lay there panting, her chest heaving. Above all else, she was ready to be filled with his sex. However, he didn’t comply. Instead, he teased her further by outlining the beaded tips of her breasts with his forefingers. Then he suckled each one before slowly kissing his way down her body. She let out a whimper. He ignored that and parted her thighs, slowly grazing his fingertips over her sex. She let out a moan.

“Yes, my love,” he whispered as he covered her body with his and entered her. She raked his back with her nails as they found the right tempo to the music which bound their bodies together as one.

Nikki had welcomed him into her body. The pleasure she felt was explosive, but the golden wave of passion and love which flowed between them seemed familiar. He was no stranger to her body and seemed to be taking what he considered rightly his. Afterward as they lay together with his arms about her, she heard the sound of a church bell chiming in the distance. The breeze from the water gently caused the lacy curtains on the windows to billow inward and slowly cool the heat rising from their bodies.

“My darling, I have made a decision,” he declared as he lazily outlined one of her nipples with a long, tapered finger.

“About what?” she asked, hoping it was about divorcing his wife.

“When we return to France, I intend to leave Lily.”

Nikki’s heart began to race as he continued. This was what she wanted more than anything.

“I find I cannot be without you. You make my senses come alive, and thus my music thrives. And without my music, I am nothing.”

“You’ve made me the happiest woman alive,” she said, smothering his face with kisses.

There was no comparison between this robust lover and her stuffy banker husband, Sigismond. She knew her son, Raoul, would not be happy, but it was because of him that she was here today. After all, he had been the one who required a piano tutor. And the rest was merely fate.

The distant chiming of the church bell grew louder and louder, until its incessant ringing woke her…

Nikki’s travel alarm had gone off. Yawning, she shut it and roused herself from the bed. She padded into the bathroom and started the water jets in the shower.

Towels and linens had been supplied for a small service fee. The only thing she’d have to buy was food. Sticking a hand into the shower to test the water, she fiddled with the knobs until she got the temperature just right. It felt delightful. As the water cascaded down her body, the previous night’s dream began to unfold in her mind, and she watched as if it were a movie. What a strange dream it had been. She nearly laughed as she thought about it. With the furnishings in this apartment, no wonder she’d had such a dream. But the man, hadn’t she dreamed of him before? She let the question drop because she could no longer linger in the shower.

Today was her first day of sightseeing, and she couldn’t wait to begin. Twenty minutes later, Nikki put on her leather jacket, grabbed her knapsack filled with maps, camera, wallet–just about everything she might need–and headed out the door, colliding with a man coming out of the apartment next door.