Intertwined in love's depth

Every first of the month at eight in the evening, I would be at the doorstep of the Bennett Family estate. More punctual than my period. Mrs. Bennett would lead me through the garden filled with the scent of gardenias, and then through the incense-filled hall. The old Mrs. Bennett would always be kneeling in front of the Buddha, chanting prayers. Every time I came, she was in the same position. I never knew what she was praying for. The Bennett Family had everything—fame, fortune, and a large, thriving family. Mrs. Bennett would leave me at the foot of the stairs: "Young Master is in the study." I never entered the study as I passed by. I knew it wasn't my place. He would come to the bedroom once he was done with his work. The room was filled with the floral scent drifting in from the garden, and on the large bed lay a set of thin, sexy lingerie. Orlando Bennett liked champagne colors. Every time I came, the lingerie prepared for me was always champagne-colored. Different shades of champagne—dark, light, long, short. I knew the routine by heart. I took the lingerie into the bathroom to shower. The bathwater was already drawn, with a few rose petals floating on the surface. I scooped up some water and sniffed it. Still rose oil. His preferences never changed. After finishing my shower and drying my hair, I was applying a fragrant rose lotion to my skin when Orlando Bennett walked in. I saw him through the mirror on my vanity. He moved like a graceful cat, making no sound at all. He came up behind me, took the rose lotion from my hand, and began to gently rub it onto my back. His palms were warm, and his touch was soft. I couldn't decide whether to compliment him on his potential as a beautician. I didn't say anything because I had never tried joking with him. Or rather, we had hardly spoken a few words to each other. His hand moved from the nape of my neck down my back, stopping at my lower waist. Then, he wrapped his arms around me and lifted me, tossing me onto the bed. As he removed his clothes and leaned over me, I glanced at the clock on the wall. Nine fifteen, not a minute off. His kisses rained down on my chest, and at that moment, I couldn't help but wonder how he managed to be so precise with time. Every time I came here to be with him, it was almost always at this exact time. Just like his every move, perfectly measured. Not too light, not too heavy, making me struggle to keep from crying out, but unable to control my rapid breathing. Everything was just right. At nine forty, he moved away from me, and a minute later, I heard the sound of water running from the bathroom. While he was in the shower, I tried to gather my scattered thoughts. Ten minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, bringing with him the damp scent of fresh water. His hair was still wet, droplets of water trickling down. With his back to me, he removed his bathrobe and put on a shirt. His back was straight, muscles defined and graceful. At that moment, my phone chimed with a notification. I glanced at the message. The amount wasn't a fortune, but it was enough. Enough to cover my boyfriend Killian's hospital bills, my sister's tuition fees, my own expensive dance lessons to continue my career, and rent, among other things. After all these expenses, there might even be some left over for emergencies. I put down my phone and whispered, "Thank you, Mr. Bennett." I started to get out of bed, slipping my feet into my shoes, while he was already in front of the full-length mirror, tying his tie. "I'll be going out later. You can stay here tonight," he said.