Fire reflected in the mirror as she sat waiting anxiously in a plush leather armchair. She tapped her toes nervously on the hard wood floors, waiting to hear the front door open. Her hands fluttered to smooth her hair, then her satin robe, then hair again. She wondered what he had in store for her tonight.
*********
Four years had passed since the first time they met. She was a freshman at Georgetown Law, eagerly anticipating the beginnings of her career. He, eight years her senior, was working as the legal advisor of the British ambassador to the United States. His work kept him busy, but he liked the stress and pressures. Conquering them and getting the job done gave him a rich satisfaction and sense of power he craved, a feeling that was lacking in other aspects of his life...until her.
She felt something lacking in her life as well. She was a together woman. She always had a plan, she always had a goal, always had the ambition to work hard and make something out of her life. It exhausted her. For once, she wanted to relinquish control, to feel a release, a sense of freedom.... from what she couldn't say and what could give her this freedom she could not even fathom...until him.
*********
The sound of his key in the lock. The door's squeak that the rain and humidity always brought out. The sound of his briefcase hitting the floor, followed by the soft brushing sound of him wiping his feet. All so familiar to her, as she strained to hear his next move. Would he move towards the kitchen, to the bar, to pour himself a drink? Would he go upstairs to change? Or would he come to the library immediately, expecting to find her waiting as instructed? She was the only thing on his mind.
*********
They first met in a coffee shop, just south of the Capitol building. They were there for a common need—caffeine. Waiting for their orders, she would later swear that she saw him first. He was leaning against a column in the shop, reading his carefully folded newspaper. At first glance, and for her first impression, she saw a serious, exacting man, who had the good fortune of being incredibly handsome. He was impeccably dressed, shoes perfectly polished, suit perfectly matched, tailored, and pressed, a perfect shave, and a trim haircut. He was every bit the picture of a predictable, stable attorney on a coffee break. Only his eyes, which flashed occasionally in her direction, betrayed a sense of mystery. She was captivated.
He was captivated. From the first moment he saw her in the coffee shop, her laugh at the feeble jokes of the man behind the counter grabbed his attention. She was unassumingly beautiful. As he pretended to scan the lines of his newspaper, he attempted to strike a pose of nonchalance by leaning against the column, arms and feet crossed. He watched her out of his peripheral vision as she came closer to him. His order was called, and he retrieved his coffee, turning around to her face directly behind him. Slightly startled, she flushed and took a step back. He took a step forward. "Excuse me," he murmured, with a beautiful accent, looking down at her intently as he brushed by her. Making his way to the door, he could feel her watching him. He didn't need to turn around.
He would see her again that night. He was attending a dinner party hosted by his co-worker, Rebecca Daniels. It promised to be a boring night, with the general wining and dining accompanied by fake conversation where people said even less than they heard. But he would go in hopes of something interesting...
Abigail was hurriedly primping in front of the full-length mirror. Her roommate Janine Daniels playfully elbowed her out of the way, trying to decide which pair of earrings to wear. "Remind me to thank your sister again for inviting us to this party, Janine—it should be a good opportunity for us to meet some members of the political sphere."
"I think that's just what Rebecca had in mind when she insisted that we come...crap, Abby, we're really late." Janine grabbed her coat, while Abigail struggle to buckle the strap on her heel. Dashing downstairs to a waiting cab, both girls laughed with a mixture of anxiety and excitement. It promised to be an interesting night.
The party was huge. Abigail had thought that a dinner party would be around 10-12 people, but Rebecca's table was set for 50. Slightly overwhelmed before she made it past the coat rack, she and Janine stuck together as they made their way into the main room. A combination of a large great room and dining room, the space had an impressive view of the Potomac River and Kennedy Center. "Janine, I never knew your family had this type of money." Janine laughed, "My sister has this kind of money. Here, let's see if we can't find her".
Rebecca was found giving last minute instructions to a waiter hired for the evening. Smiling brightly, she welcomed Abigail and embraced Janine. "Girls", she whispered, " I hate to ask, but could you lend me a hand for a few minutes—two of the wait staff cancelled on me at the last minute. Would you help me get everyone a drink while I greet the latecomers?" Readily assuring her that they were more than glad to help, Abigail and Rebecca split up to circulate the room.
Abigail's head was buzzing as she ran back and forth from the bar to fill drink orders. The often asked for glass of chardonnay sent Abby to the kitchen to see if she could find another bottle. The cook pointed her towards an adjacent room, which served as the wine cellar. The room was cool and dimly lit, with rows of bottles on each wall, and a small oak table in the center of the room. Setting down the glass and corkscrew she had brought with, Abby looked among the hundreds of bottles for one similar to the white wine that had run out at the bar. Finding one by the same winery, she attempted to uncork it in the privacy of the quiet room where her ineptitude with a corkscrew would go unnoticed. Yet it was not as private as she thought.
Smiling as he watched her struggle with the bottle and cork, he moved into the room slowly and gently took the bottle from her hands. Deftly he removed the cork and poured some of the wine into the glass she had put on the table. "It's all in the grip," he said, with a distinct accent that sounded familiar to her ears somehow.
"Thank you, I--..."
"I believe I saw you earlier this morning- getting coffee?" He interjected, his piercing green eyes boring into, causing her to blush.
"Oh yes, she stammered, "I think I remember seeing you there"
"Yes, "he smiled, "I was sure you noticed me."
Coming towards her, he backed her up against one of the wine racks, causing the bottles to clink against one another. Smiling down at her, a small smile that showed no teeth but rather hinted at his amusement, he pulled a slim business card from his coat pocket and held it up in front of her.
"If you ever want to do more than just stare at me from a distance, call me." He gave her the glass of wine and took the bottle in his other hand, turning to exit the room.
"Oh, um, do you want my number too then?" She questioned awkwardly.
He turned slightly, pausing at the door. "No need."
"Well, I'm pretty busy with my classes and my internship and I don't know if--- ..." She trailed off under his intent gaze.
"You'll make time," he said simply without breaking his gaze, "Now, rejoin the party."
It was only after he was gone that she realized she was shaking. Laughing softly to herself, she slipped the card into her purse and made her way into the main room to deliver the glass of wine. Walking through the room to where Janine was conversing, she couldn't help but notice where he was sitting. She could feel his gaze on her for the rest of the night.
The evening passed in a blur of wine, food, and chatter. The party had begun to empty around midnight, so she and Janine also headed out. As Abby thanked Rebecca for inviting her, she felt a hand helping her with her coat. She turned to those piercing green eyes. "Thank you," she said softly. "My pleasure," he replied, as he winked and briskly walked down the steps to his car. She sighed as she and Janine collapsed into their cab. "Who was that?" Janine asked. Abby smiled, "You know, I really couldn't tell you..."
*********
She heard the click of his shoes in the hall, striding confidently with a measured clip towards the library. He stopped for a moment outside the door, his feet casting shadows on the floor in the eerie red aura created by the fire's blaze. The doorknob slowly turned, and in he walked. Head high as always, back perfectly straight, green eyes hard and flashing in the orange light, lips set in that perpetual line that she could never read—was he amused? Pleased? Angered?
He shut the door softly, his eyes boring into her, making her flush and breathe heavily with his mere presence. He leaned back slowly against the door to survey the scene. She was good, and had listened to his instructions exactly. No need to correct her...yet he never needed a reason to punish her—his pleasure had always been the only reason she needed. He walked toward the chair, captivated by the picture she made reflected in the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. He walked behind her, and hid a smile as he watched her tense in curiosity, yet remain silent, not permitted to speak or question, until he had greeted her first. Running his finger in a light grazing motion on the back of her neck, he delighted in the sound of her sigh, and her inability to keep her eyes open at his touch.
Gently he placed his head near her ear, "You must watch me always—I will have your eyes open". Obediently she opened them, meeting his in the reflection. He moved to the other side of her head, his lips lightly grazing her ear as he spoke, low, but firm, "You must want this. You must ask me for this". She fought the urge to turn away from his hard voice in her ear. It always gave her the same fluttered feeling deep inside to hear him speak like this...it was almost frightening to see his intensity and know full well what that intensity could mean for her. Yet the fear aroused her, and his authoritative tone brought out the best side of him in her eyes. She kept her gaze on him in the mirror, and tilted up her head decisively, to meet him head on. She was submissive, not weak.
