CHAPTER 3
1099 Words
CHAPTER 3
Kirsten felt a thrill when she heard his voice again. Like a secret dream coming true. She hadn't heard from Mark again since he left. But she knew he was in Frankfurt. Bill Young had wasted no time in letting everybody know that Mark had been transferred out of harm's way. She wondered what that meant: harm's way?
The phone call turned out to be an invitation to dinner for the following Saturday evening. At a classy eating place.
Well, what do you know!
She arrived at the restaurant before him. New hair-do, a little more make-up than usual. Wearing her most expensive dress. A present from Frank, her current on-off boyfriend, but she had chosen it herself.
Mark frequently dined corporate clients at this place, and she received the welcome treatment appropriate for the guest of an executive of GI. At the bar, she sipped her drink, impressed by her surroundings. Thrilled at being there. And wondering what the occasion was.
The hour was early for the night crowd. Only one other couple sat in the dimly-lit bar. Her eyes roamed over the black-stained panelling, perusing the oil paintings of borough dignitaries and rural nobles long since dead and forgotten. The sound system piped in the soft strains of Vivaldi.
She was sunk in her thoughts when she saw Mark making his way towards her. The restaurant staff giving him a valued-customer welcome, and he greeting them by first names.
"Hello there," she said, holding out her hand to be shaken. But he took her gently by the shoulders and gave her a kiss on both cheeks and a hug.
"You’re looking devastating," he said.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
They ordered their drinks. The head waiter came next with the menus. The sommelier followed and Mark chose after consulting her. She had no idea about wines and just nodded, lapping up the five-star treatment, but simply thrilled to be with him. Him of all people.
"Is it only a week since we last saw each other?" he asked as they settled down with their drinks.
"More or less."
"So what's been going on at GI?"
Kirsten filled him in on the gossip and the changes in the organisation caused by his transfer.
"So Young hasn't wasted time in settling into my old job," he said, sipping a Jack Daniel's. "How do you fancy working for him?"
"I won't be. He wants me out of there." She smiled wryly. "He says I'm contaminated."
"The de-brained bastard." Mark spat out the words with utter derision and took a deep swallow. "He won't last long."
"Let's drink to his demise."
They clinked glasses.
"So what are your options now?" he said.
"I go into limbo – until they find me a new job."
The head waiter reappeared and showed them to their table which was softly lit by candles. They were positioned nicely to one side and had a corner to themselves. She said she adored the restaurant, meaning the treatment, and saw how he lapped up the compliment.
The main course finished, she leant back in her chair, appraising him with smiling eyes. He appeared relaxed, and she felt pleased. She had drunk more than usual and was warmly contemplating what came after the dinner.
"Well," she said, "very nice. Now, what did I do right to earn all this?"
"How about some dessert?"
"No thanks."
"Coffee?"
She accepted. "Well?" she repeated after a waiter had cleared the table and taken their order.
"Well, what?" He seemed stuck, and she felt a sudden pang of anxiety.
She tried again. "You know, suddenly Cinderella is invited out ... and treated to the whole works?" She looked around her. "All this, marvellous. Really great."
"I'd like you to do me a little favour?" he said in a quiet voice.
An awkward pause. An uncomfortable silence. She had the sensation of sinking slowly back into a quagmire.
"Bloody hell. I'm not making sense, am I?" he went on.
"Oh, yes; yes, you are," she contradicted, her eyes everywhere but on his.
He sat looking at her, his eyes as soft as a puppy's.
She stifled her embarrassment at her pathetic repartee. The magic of the evening disappearing fast. "I'm sorry, I ... Not one of my better days, I suppose."
He looked on, hurt.
Oh, Lord, she was messing this up by the minute.
"What can I do for you then, Mark?" she said, cool, back to being workaday Kirsten.
"Forget it, Kirsty. Please. It's not important."
"I’m sure it must be."
He shook his head with a dismissive smile and asked if she wanted some more coffee.
"No, thank you ... If you're finished, I'd like to go."
What followed was in the aftermath hazy – though memorable.
Dinner had been a disaster. But she – and obviously he too – didn't want the evening to end on an uneasy note. She'd come in a taxi. He offered to run her home in his BMW.
She remembered the drive. He not intimate but also not distant. She gave him directions, and he drove in silence. An awkward quietness hung over them when he stopped at her door. She was undecided about what to do next. He sat still as if made of stone. The silence became more uncomfortable. She couldn't stay like this all night.
Finally, the ridiculousness of the situation got to her. A releasing laugh came over her lips. Then he was laughing too. Full and hearty. Suddenly, she found herself in his arms, and they were attacking each other hungrily. As if the floodgates had been opened.
She'd wanted this evening to be a success. So she relaxed and let it happen. Time lost its meaning.
They now lay in her bed, wrapped around each other enjoying the afterglow.
All of a sudden, she thrust him off and pulled herself up into a sitting position. He rolled on to his back, looking up, startled. His eyes seemingly fearing a repeat of her emotional seizure at the restaurant. She had to laugh, and he returned the smile. Unsure.
"Now to your favour," she said in a no-nonsense voice.
"Forget it."
"Can't. I'm determined to do you a favour."
And she was. Anything to hold on to this man.
"Please. Forget it."
"I'm serious. Now, what is it?"
He shrugged, then told her about the mini recorder. She'd heard of such gadgets while she was working in the IT department and was curious.
Her eyes following him to his clothes scattered around the floor and back to the bed. Taking the device, she turned it this way and that as he explained how to connect it and whose computer he wanted to bug.
"That's it – your favour?" she said. "And we had our first tiff about this thing! Yuck."
"Yuck," he agreed and laughed. Relieved.
- Writer
