Deidre pushed her wire rimmed glasses gently up the bridge of her nose with an unconcious tap of one long, slender index finger. Behind the round lenses her tourmaline green eyes studied the tiny gold loops of chain to which she had spent the afternoon attaching tiny golden bells. Now, with her latest creation nearly completed she smiled thoughtfully and sighed, holding the magnificent unique piece of jewelry up for a final inspection.
The lilting jingle of the necklace and bracelets filled her shop with a soft, sensual, musical caress.
Laying the neck piece back down on the black velvet work pad Deidre fingered the ends of the chain as she prepared to connect the clasps. She paused only for a half moment, when the wind chimes attached to the front entrance door heralded a visitor. Her heart skipped a beat, her cheeks colored softly as she glanced up briefly to note the customer’s arrival. Immediately she bent her head to concentrate once more on the bells in her hands.
Thank God she had completed this before he had arrived. Her hands trembled slightly with each step he took to close the distance. Keeping her head down she bit her lower lip and quickly closed the clasp to the bell necklace just as he came to stand across from her, on the other side of the glass counter.
“Hello, Deidre.”
Those two simply spoken words were her undoing. She swallowed thickly, inhaled the arousing air that surrounded him and filled her world with him; his clothes, his cologne, his skin, his hair... even his car, she was sure of it as she recognized the scent of leather. She inhaled his aroma and it filled her. Filled her nose, traveled down her throat, into her belly, her arms, her breasts. It filled her loins, her most private parts, her legs, reaching finally her knees, her calves and her toes.
She reveled in the sensation of his presence completely overtaking her and filling her- without so much as a single touch from his impeccable, strong hands.
“Hello, Mr. Montage.” The sound of her voice came in a soft whisper, evidence that his presence drained her of any strength previously occupying her slender body.
She moved her gaze from the bells in her hands to his two tanned hands clasped casually just inches from her own. The sight of his fingers--well manicured, well shaped, thick, nicely defined appendages-- made her heart swell, her blood run warm and her cheeks redden once more as she pushed away certain thoughts before she even had a chance to form them.
“I hoped you hadn’t closed yet.” The deep timbre of his voice filled her as thoroughly as his scent did, and Deidre fought the urge to lick her lips. She imagined his lips moving against hers as wonderfully as they moved when forming such a simple sentence.
A silent shake of her head, a half smile curving her parted lips, was all she could offer in response. He made her feel like a school girl, shell shocked and tongue tied and completely at a loss for something intelligent to say.
“My mother would like a set of those chimes I purchased last week for my sister- remember?”
Again, Deidre could only nod and smile, lost in the brilliance of the smile he flashed her way.
“Only, she was wondering if you had one a bit fuller. If not, could you custom design one for her?” Mr. Montage glanced about the room searching for a set of chimes that compared to the gold butterflies he had purchased for his sister.
“I-I could add to the one hanging up over there.” Deidre set the bells on the counter, removed her glasses and laid them beside the bells. Carefully, she moved out onto the floor, walking towards the last set of butterfly chimes she had. “These, no?” She reached up with a hooked pole to retrieve the chimes off a ceiling peg, freezing in her actions as the gentle tinkling of bells sounded from behind.
Oh, no! she thought, a vision of the man holding the bells flashed in her mind. The very man who had inspired the damn things in a dream the night before was now holding them, inspecting them, making assumptions about them.
He confirmed her fears as his voice filled the shop. He held it up and examined the long loops of chain, chuckling softly as he figured out where the attached cuff-like bracelets went. “Exquisite work, Deidre.”
A warm rush of blood flowed through her body as Deidre turned to look back towards the counter. A deep stirring weakened her as her gaze focused on the necklace and bracelets laced between Mr. Montage’s hands. “Thank you,” she half whispered, her face flushed, her eyes bright.
His eyes drew Deidre towards him as he caught her gaze and smiled knowingly. “What will you charge for this?”
With a quick shake of her head Deidre looked down at the chimes in her hands and calculated a price difference. “I can put another four strands on without it looking too gaudy... I’ll charge another $20... how’s that?” Her smile faded as she glanced from the chimes to the thoughtful expression on Mr. Montage’s face.
“That is fine, whatever you have to do, I’ll take it.” He smiled deeply, dimples cutting lean caverns into the fine lines of his handsome face. “But I was referring to this-” he held up the bells, their music serenading her peacefully as she walked back around the counter.
“Oh... that...” Her cheeks flushed again, for that had been a creation she hadn’t actually planned on selling. “Well... I ... I hadn’t really thought about it...”
He raised an eyebrow at her and his smiled deepened. “You hadn’t, eh?”
“Well. I mean-I don’t know if I want to sell it--”
“Ahh. I see. Hmmm...” He gazed at her thoughtfully, a slow fire sparking in his dark eyes. “Well, unless, of course, you designed it with someone special in mind, perhaps I can persuade you?”
With a slight cough to clear her throat Deidre suppressed a giggle and thought there would be very little this man would have to do to persuade her to do anything. She started to shake her head but when he lifted his hand, she stopped.
“Don’t answer now. Think about it. Are you ready to leave yet?” He glanced around at the empty shop.
Deidre eyed the bells in Mr. Montage’s hands. He didn’t appear as though he would be handing them back to her anytime soon. She hadn’t even gotten to try them on once . She sighed aloud and shook her head. “I was going to work late.”
He shook his head. “It’s too nice an evening to stay cooped up in here.”
“Well...”
“How soon can you wrap up?”
“Well... I’d just have to prepare the bank deposit...and ...”
“Great...decide on a price and write this up... whatever it is I trust you... I’ll pick up and pay for the butterfly’s Friday. Is that alright?” He didn’t even wait for her answer as he turned to walk out the door.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes.” Deidre watched him walk out the door, confused, surprised and a bit dismayed that she had just sold the one piece she’d ever made exclusively for herself.
She ached to put on the collar and bracelets delicately connected by gold threads of chain, adorned with more than one hundred tinkling little bells.... She lifted the jewelry and shook it lightly, sighing as the music filled her shop. She estimated a price... arguing silently with herself not to place too high a number on it in an effort to dissuade him. Then she crossed the showroom and made her way into the back room, faced the mirror and carefully slipped the choker chain around her neck, lifting her slender arms carefully to clasp it at her nape. She quickly clasped the bracelets about each wrist and lifted her arms, palms extending upwards. Her silk sleeveless white tank top complimented the piece, with the scoop neckline leaving plenty of skin for the bells to rest against
Deidre sighed at the thought of selling the piece... particularly with the thought of who it was going to... to be worn by someone other than she. The soft tinkling sound caressed her senses as she lifted one arm and shook it gently as she peered into the mirror, recalling last night’s dream.
Paul Montage had been in it, rightfully so since he’d been the one to inspire this work of art. He had been visiting her shop every Tuesday and Thursday for the last two weeks, always in search of a gift, whether it be for an aunt, a sister, and now his mother. He had been in this past Tuesday to pick up a gift he had selected the Thursday before for his youngest sister. It was then the seeds of this dream were planted, for he complimented Deidres’ handiwork that adorned her wrists and fingers--bracelets that lay softly about her wrists that were then attached by chains to two rings--heart shaped rose quartz stones set in gold.
He had slipped his thumb and forefinger about the chains and gently rubbed the thread between his fingers. The action was so sensual that Deidre felt her self grow warm and then burn hot as his skin met and melded against hers.
Last night her imagination had turned that tender caress into a full blown lovemaking session. Her imagination had turned that simple bracelet into an intricate web of golden chains, roping from wrist to neck, then down to her other wrist. She sighed softly and raised her hands to the clasp at her neck when the door chimes sounded, announcing Mr. Montage’s return.
“Damn!” Deidre fumbled with the clasp, but it would not budge. “Oh,no. not now...” she muttered as he called her name.
“I’ll be right there...” she answered in a tremulous voice. He could not see her now. Not wearing the piece he’d just purchased from her. But it was already too late. She felt his presence even before his voice filled the back room.
“Leave it, Deidre.”
“Oh, no. Mr. Montage. It’s just that I wanted to see what it looked like before I sold it to you.”
“I don’t mind. I like it on you. Leave it.” He came up beside Deidre and placed his hands over hers to still her fumbling actions. “My name is Paul. If we’re going to enjoy our dinner I suggest you drop the formality.”
“Dinner, oh no, Mr. Montage. I couldn’t.” Deidre shook her head as she studied his reflection in the mirror. He stood a good foot above her, with the top of her tawny haired head barely reaching his broad shoulders. There was a quiet strength in those shoulders that so nicely filled out his grey suit jacket. A commanding sort of power that silently informed who ever was around that Paul Montage was now in control.
His hands rested with a sense of familiarity at her nape, beneath her curling locks, and he smiled back at her reflection, nodding in pleasant disagreement. “Yes, dinner. I take it you have no other plans since you mentioned working late.”
Another wordless shake of her head was ignored and within ten minutes he was ushering her out the front door. Despite Paul’s protests Deidre had been allowed to don her black cotton blazer, partially to cover the choker chains, partially to hide the quite visual impact his proximity had on her. More than once in the last few minutes prior to their leaving the shop, Deidre had watched his eyes caress with amused interest hardened tips of her breasts that lay just beyond reach beneath her blouse. She cursed herself silently, trying to will her body to relax, but scenes from her dream the night before kept flashing through her mind.
The couple sat at a quiet table on the upper balcony of an Italian restaurant overlooking Port Jefferson Harbor. He with his formidable dark looks, she looking like a jewel offered up as a sacrifice to the sun god, drew more than an average share of second glances.
