Browsed by
Tag: mystery

Right Under Your Nose

Right Under Your Nose

Right Under Your Nose

A Bedtime Story

(A Snippet Of Life To Be Read At Bedtime)

Their phones sounded off at the same time, signaling a text had come in.  It read, “Urgent, car will pick you up in 3 hours.  Meet Andre in Paris tomorrow at 6pm.  You will be taken to La Mirande in Avignon.  Security will be tight.”

They had known each other for about 10 years, working at the same companies.  Over time they’d become very close in a casual way,  able to discuss even their most private thoughts and desires.  They’d celebrated birthdays together, met each others families and traveled together for work.  Because of this strong friendship and being kindred spirits, neither of them had tried to be get closer or become intimate. Although, if pressed, they both admit they had thought about it before.  But, work always came first.

They flew private, sleeping most of the way. The plan was to spend the afternoon in Paris at a hotel and wait for Andre to pick them up that evening and take them to La Mirande.

Their suite at the Four Seasons George V had two bedrooms with a living room and balcony overlooking the City of Love. It was quite luxurious and indulgent with silk sheets, furnished with antiques, an oversized soaking tube and on the table in front of the window, a large plate of French pastries to die for.

“Logan, would you bring my purse to me please?”  He picked up her purse and walked into the one of the bedrooms.  There, lying on the bed was Sarah in an alluring black lace underwear set.  He’d never seen her so, so, shall we say uninhibited and beautiful.  Even a Victoria’s Secret model would be proud.

“Logan, lay down with me and let’s get some rest before Andre arrives.”

Logan was caught off guard. “I think we should get everything organized for tomorrow, don’t you?”

“I guess.” she said, getting off the bed and going into the living room to have a Pain aux raisins pastry.  Logan couldn’t take his eyes off her beautiful curves.

They went over their plans on how tomorrow would unfold.

“Hello?”  “Yes Andre, is there a problem?”

“There’s been a glitch and we won’t be going to Avignon until tomorrow night.  You can relax and enjoy the hotel and the city for a while.  I hope it’s not too much of an inconvenience for either of you.”  “See you tomorrow.”

“Well Sarah,  how would you like to spend our evening together?”

“We’re in the City of Love, let’s see if it really is.”

They changed into evening cloths, her in a short, tight little black dress, and him in slacks, loafers and a new silk shirt that he’d splurged on. They walked along the Seine as darkness fell and the lights along the street and in the cafes came on. They could feel something special and magical surrounding them.  She knew tonight would be memorable.

On the rue Saint Martin they found a bistro like no other.  A butcher, Benoit Matray who prepared fragrant, traditional Lyon-Style dishes like those made by his mother, started Benoit Bistro.  They learned that in 2005-famed Michelin stared Chef Alain Ducasse purchased the little bistro on the corner.

Dinner was slow paced and delicious.  They dined on beef bourguignon and Emincé de Volaille sauce Roquefort – Pommes de terre sautées. To you and me, that’s Thinly sliced fillet of chicken with Roquefort sauce – Sautéed potatoes. With all the courses and wine, and of course chatting, dinner took over 2 hours.  They strolled back to the hotel slowly in the cool night air of romantic Paris.

The lights in the large suite had been turned down, as were the beds.  Soft music was coming from the stereo.  They embraced, saying goodnight.  The embrace was long and gentle.  It was difficult to pull apart and go to their own rooms.

He wondered if he should do what he was thinking and feeling.  Sarah answered that question for him when she kissed him and led him to the luxurious, indulgent, overstuffed bed.

During breakfast the next morning, he wondered why he hadn’t noticed her more when she was right under his nose all the time.

Different Worlds

Different Worlds

.

“Different Worlds”

A Bedtime Story

They were sitting under the umbrella on the edge of the patio.  Their backs to the Pacific Ocean, they chatted quietly, paying no attention to other guests and their surroundings.  The bar was the Mai Tai Bar at the Royal Hawaiian Hotel, the Pink Palace of the Pacific.

They were over dressed for the time of day and warm weather.  He was tall, grey hair, handsome, wearing dress slacks, loafers and an expensive dress shirt.  He was sporting a large Rolex, clearly, a man of some success.

She was very proper in her posture and movements and with her speech.  Being Asian, she was probably educated in the finest schools in Hong Kong or Singapore.  Her black hair glistened in the afternoon sun.   The tailored black dress fit her subtle curves beautifully.

Surprisingly, no one noticed them.  Most of the patrons merely sipped on their world famous Mai Tai s, as this is where the Mai Tai was invented.  They chatted between themselves and enjoyed the beautiful view and the gentle trade winds.

He watched them from two tables away.  Their auras projected wisdom, strength, and compassion.  He wondered who they were.  Soon his imagination took over.

Maybe they both owned businesses; maybe they were art dealers, could they be retired friends who meet after World War II.  Or they could work at an embassy.  He thought not, they were looked too refined.   Maybe they were something more intriguing like CIA operatives meeting to exchange top secret intel.  If they were, he thought it would be cool to meet them and hear their stories.  That is if they could.   His imagination was interrupted when the couple got up to leave.

Who were these people, how did they meet?  Where were they going now? The theater, were they on vacation, were they going home, what does their house look like?  Is it behind iron gates, or is it a luxury condo on the top floor of a high-rise?  Or, are they even married?

He finished his mai tai and followed them.  As they walked toward the lobby his questions continued, even though they would probably never be answered.  Unless of course, if their paths crossed again somewhere, sometime in the future.