Excerpt Thirty Six

“I spent all of the love I saved … we were always a losing game.” Duncan Laurence

Bzzzzz. My intercom buzzed for me to let Damien in through the lobby doors.

The night was upon us. I found I was impressed that he was right on time, and that he had remembered my codes to enter the building.  As if he had stored away a little disk of “Krista.” He had just returned from a skiing trip in the French Alps. Apparently he was a competitive skier on the side of being a technology engineer. The description he had given me of his trip sounded magical and I couldn’t wait to hear all about it.

I felt the familiar rush that I always got when I was seconds away from seeing him. He did three subtle knocks on my door, to which I swung it open almost instantly. A big smile appeared on the other side of the steel door, and he immediately went in for a kiss on my lips. Wow. I didn’t get the famous bisous on each cheek. No, I got his lips touching mine. Right away. Maybe he had missed me. I have to say, I went all out in a subtle he will think it’s a natural look kinda way. I was wearing a form fitting white silk blouse, with leather pants and high black suede boots. My hair was straightened and my make-up kept natural with pink hues in the form of blush, lip-gloss, and a dust of salmon-rose eye shadow.

“Oh, I don’t get bisous? I get a real kiss, how come- is it because I am not French?” I always spoke my mind and didn’t try in any regard to keep from making him feel uncomfortable.
He just gave a smile in return. It didn’t need a response and we both knew it. He made a comment that he liked my leather pants. Of course he did, what submissive wouldn’t?

He then pulled out a bottle of champagne and proceeded to open it, as he coyly while grinning said he owed me an apology. I found this a nice gesture, but all I could do was stare at him and his perfectly arranged features. I took in his beauty. If he were a model, he would have needed zero airbrushing.

Olive skin, the perfect shade and even throughout his face and neck, piercing green eyes, and a dark rich full head of brown hair. This paired with his tall stature, broad build, and classy well put together ensemble… He was hard not to look at. Not to mention, he was opening a bottle of champagne for me. It was Ruinart Rosé, one of my favorites.

We sat in my salon, and started out with small talk and catching up regarding what we had been up to in life, activities in Paris, travel, my wine program, and his skiing trip. Then I decided to go for the gusto, never really being able to contain my directness.

“So tell me, or I guess, please explain to me what happened a couple of weeks ago. That night …”