Читать книгу The Clamour of Silence - Valerie Pybus - Страница 10

With nail biting impatience Ryan did not email Julia for two days. He rewrote the email several times, discarding the earlier ones as too friendly then too formal and mindful of the adage ‘less is more’ finally emailed.

Hi Julia, are you free next Saturday to have a look at my apartment and give me some pointers. I’ll be at home all morning Ryan?

Julia replied as promptly as he’d hoped and arranged to be there at 11am.

Ryan was up at 6am on the Saturday morning putting the last spit and polish touches to the spacious rooms. The apartments in his particular block were serviced by a very reliable company but he wanted to make sure everything was immaculate. He purchased several brands of coffee, normal tea, herbal tea, a supply of gourmet biscuits.

He straightened the towels in the bathroom so many times, that a drill sergeant would have been impressed. Changed his shirt twice, he couldn’t remember when he had been this nervous.

At last 11am arrived and he sat at his computer feigning work. He started several projects but his usual concentration eluded him. He decided to tidy up and delete old emails on his computer as he was incapable of any serious work.

At last he heard the door bell. Julia stood in the entrance hall a vision in pink. Well cut blue jeans a feminine pink blouse that showed a hint of lace underneath. The top button was unfastened to almost hide a generous cleavage. Comfortable linen shoes completed the apparition of Saturday casual wear. She never failed to impress. Her sweet face was devoid of make-up except for a rosebud pink lipstick.

She held a portfolio of books and a sizeable sketch pad. Her clothing may have appeared relaxed, but her body language was all businesslike.

She looked slightly puzzled after the first initial greeting and he realised that he had been staring for a full minute without moving. He unnecessarily cleared his throat; it seemed his composure deserted him whenever she was near.

At last he spoke.

“Um, well, where would you like to begin? Shall I show you around the apartment?”

She watched his face and then said in her low charming voice with more than a hint of laughter,

“I thought you wanted patio furniture?”

“Well yes I do,” he flustered, “but it may be that you could suggest some other changes while you are here.”

Julia smiled. “Certainly, I would like to see what your interests are, so that your furnishings can reflect what is important to you.

He stalled for time. He wanted to talk to her wanted her to know that he more than liked her. Wanted to know what made her smile? What were her interests? Crazily he wondered if she liked animals. He pictured her with a playful kitten, her face softening, gentle. He wanted to ask her out for dinner. Wanted so much, but above all he wanted to fold her in his arms and taste the soft fullness of her mouth.

Steadying his fly-away thoughts he asked, “Would you like a coffee, before you start?” He was careful to make sure he was in front of her before he spoke.

Julia smiled, “I find it’s a good policy to do the preliminaries before one relaxes with the tea or coffee. It’s during the sit-down time that I can discover what really makes my client tick.”

Ryan gestured towards the lounge room area, “Please feel free to wander where you like, I’ll be at my computer, let me know if you need anything.”

He would have liked to accompany her, but didn’t want to crowd her. He liked the idea of her walking around his apartment. Perhaps she would find things that would strike a chord between the two of them.

He was so busy revelling in her being in his space that he later could not remember one thing he had pretended to do at his desk.

Julia passed close to his chair and he smelt the wonderful clean smell of her hair. The faint tangy aroma of apples, crisp, shiny rose up through his nostrils drifting through his senses, passing across his tongue awakening his pallet of sensuous memories. Long avenues of apple trees their branches heavily laden brushing the tops of lush summer grasses

***

Julia for her part was glad to move to another room, away from Ryan’s sheer masculinity. She busied herself with notebook and pencil as she moved away from the kitchen area. Did he know that his smile made her legs tremble? Supporting her but capable of moving in all directions at the slightest touch. Her throat tightened when his eyes met hers. She feared he would detect her inability to breathe evenly when he stood too close to her. She could smell his cologne, but underneath that pleasant smell was a raw, man smell. Primal unlike any other, her mouth unexpectedly filled with saliva, forcing her to swallow rapidly.

Today he had on an open neck shirt. She could see a hint of curling chest hair, the same dark texture as the hair on his head. She had fantasised about that hair, the thick luxuriant curls and waves, reminding her of the ocean surface, springing rebellious tendrils. She would love to feel it, run her fingers through it. To gather up the thickness of his hair, to feel the softness of it lie against the palm of her hand. Run her hand down the back of his neck and feel the skin, where it rose from his shirt collar above his broad shoulders. Her stomach tightened at the thought.

The next door she opened was Ryan’s bathroom; as soon as she stepped inside she became even more conscious of him. The cologne smell was stronger but there were a multitude of other fragrances. He obviously used a shaving brush as there was a brush upended to dry on a small glass shelf. She touched it and found that it was still faintly damp. The wetness of it on her fingers made her involuntarily draw in her breath. She carefully softly brushed it over her own cheek; it had been on his face.

There was a new tablet of soap on the basin she leaned forward taking care to keep her hair clear of the taps and inhaled deeply. The whole room was male, musk sensuous. Utterly different from the mixture of fragrances which pervaded the bathroom she and her mother shared. Her hands damp, she quickly dried them on the guest towel lying on the basin.

She picked up her pen grasped it firmly and looked in the mirror to see if any of her inner turmoil was evident, it wasn’t, her cheeks looked just a tad pinker. She straightened her shoulders and prepared to complete her check list.

As Julia walked around the rooms, she admired Ryan’s taste in décor. It was minimalist functional. He was obviously a reader. His book cases contained many diverse books; Balanchine’s Festival of Ballet, Time Life books on ancient cultures, poetry books, crime stories, Shakespeare, Dickens. These were editions that had obviously been read and loved she noticed pieces of paper, place markers protruding from between the pages.

In his bedroom one wall was covered with objects d’art from the theatre beautiful tragedy and comedy masks. There was a tasteful bronze replica of the dancer’s statue outside the Victorian College of the Arts. She had seen it before, Simon Brady’s two entwined dancers, beautifully balanced, and epitomizing the strength and gracefulness of a pas de dux. On an adjoining wall hung two prints; one was Auguste Renoir’s The Dancer and the other Four Dancers by Edgar Degas.

Julia was surprised to see these lovely pieces confined to Ryan’s bedroom where they would not often be viewed.

She slowly toured the rooms, noting areas where a distinctive pot or cushion could make an improvement. The patio furniture was modern and more than adequate. It was actually quite functional, though masculine. She envisaged some tasteful pots containing palms would soften the overall look. The area boasted a well maintained gas barbecue. She noted that an additional cupboard there for cooking utensils, dishes etc could be useful. Julia carefully made another addition to her notes that a sturdy Chinese or Japanese screen to hide the cooking area, when it was not in use, could cleverly be placed there.

She pictured herself reclining on one of the chaise lounge chairs with another one pulled up next to it. Ryan in shorts leaning over her looking into her eyes his face inches from hers. Ryan holding a frosted glass towards her their fingers touching, the icy drops from the glass, dropping, tingling on her arm or better still on her neck, and Ryan licking them off, and smiling, that crazy intimate smile on his lips.

She sat down on the chair closing her eyes, leaned her head back and let her thoughts take her where they would. The early summer sun had warmed the seat and it was tempting to completely relax.

Julia lay there for a few moments. Then smiled at her daydreaming and carefully filed her notes and comments into presentation mode.

She retraced her steps to the area where Ryan was bent over his computer. He was so absorbed she was tempted to run her hand gently over his shoulder blades. However he swung around to talk to her.

“Are you all through out there?” He smiled, quirking his eyebrow at her.

“Do I need to start over again from scratch with my place?” He spoke slowly and carefully keeping eye contact.

“Would it help if I write my questions down?”

He was quite unprepared for the look of dismay on Julia’s face.