Though it was dark, I could see by the lights along the path, and from the light coming from the windows, that the yard was spacious and carefully tended. The house itself seemed quite large. I entered, finding myself in a roomy foyer. Towards the rear of it a staircase rose up to the second floor. I heard the door close behind me and turned. Lesley walked towards me. She was dressed in a black silk robe with beige piping that came halfway to her knees, and coffee colored slip on canvas shoes. She smelled faintly of lavender, as if she had recently bathed.
"Come with me." she said, and proceeded down a long hallway along which there were several doors. These we passed. At the end of the hall was another door. Lesley opened it.
There was a fireplace at the far wall, and a sofa and upholstered chairs arranged before it. The rest of the room was given over to clusters of arm chairs lit by floor lamps. Shelved books lined one wall. The walls themselves were dark wood.
In an alcove was a large wall-mounted TV, and a small sofa in front of it. In the middle of the room was a sumptuous Persian carpet, some 12 feet by 9 feet. Two chairs were there in its center, a small low table between them.
"Sit down here." Lesley said, walking toward these chairs, and settling into one of them. I followed suit. Light in the room was provided by the aforementioned floor lamps and other, smaller ones here and there on shelves and tabletops.
We sat facing each other. She crossed her legs, and I instinctively looked away; much of her thigh was exposed as a consequence.
"There's a wine fridge below the bookcase over there," she said, gesturing. "Pour two glasses of white and bring them here."
After a moment of bemusement, I realized that the refrigerator was behind a low wooden door. I opened it, and found the uncorked bottle. Glasses hung by their stems above this, and I was soon returning with the two glasses. While walking back, it occurred to me that all the conversation (though I hadn't said a word) were directives from Lesley. I smiled to myself, feeling that I was entering a space whose boundaries I couldn't gauge, or a still body of water that I could not see the bottom of.
I placed the glasses on the table and sat.
"You looked away a moment ago when I crossed my legs. Why?" Lesley said, and the directness of the question took me by surprise.
"I did?" I said.
She leaned forward in her chair.
"That. What you just said? That's the last time you fail to be truthful with me. Is that understood?" she said in a casual voice that was full of intent. She sat back and raised the glass to her lips.
I... well, you know, I wasn't sure..."
"Answer the question." she said, and this time there was no mistaking her impatience.
"I was afraid you'd think I was, you know,.. looking..."
"At my legs, right?"
"Yes, yes. That's why." I said hurriedly.
She put her glass on the table, then drew up the hem of her robe so that nearly all of her thigh could be seen.
"Take a look, Charles." she said.
I'd seen the contours of her legs through her yoga pants at the gym, and fallen in love with their subtle curves. To see them unclothed in the lamplight sent an exquisite shiver through me. I wanted to drop to the floor and rest my face against the smooth flesh , and to feel her fingers stroking the side of my head.
Lesley laughed lightly, bringing me out of this reverie. Clearly, she could see the ardor, the devotion, on my face, and this is what had amused her.
"Looks like I really do have an admirer." she said.
