He leaned, carelessly, against the wall at the top of the stairs. From here he had a view of the whole room and everyone in it.
"Boring." He thought, not for the first time that evening.
The party, like every other party he'd been to that year, was boring and the people were, with only a couple of exceptions, all the same people who'd been to those parties.
Slicked down waiters circled with plates of canapés and fizzy white wine pretending to be champagne, some kind of subtle classical music was being played by an abstracted looking quintet and the faint scent of stale cigarettes and too much perfume clouded the air.
Frustrated by the dull pointlessness of it all he pulled his bow-tie loose so he could undo his top button, then ran his hand over his hair. He took a drink off a passing waiter and finally felt comfortable.
God knows why it was necessary to go through all this kind of shindig just for the opening of a film -- and a pretty shitty film, too. Still. Always important to see and be seen; networking was key in this kind of industry. Not what you know, but who... he mused, knocking back the slightly sour wine.
He'd done the rounds, shaken the hands and now he could loiter in the shadows until it was an acceptable time to leave.
"Fuck it." He muttered out loud, startling a portly lady near by.
"Not you, you fat old trout," he said, though not loudly enough for her to hear properly. Grabbing his dinner jacket from where he'd draped it over the balcony railing he slung it over his shoulder and made for the exit.
Fighting his way past a slow stream of late arrivals who seemed determined to get in his way, he'd just reached the foyer of the hotel when his bowtie slid from round his neck and landed on the floor.
He knelt down to pick it up, draping it back 'round his neck before standing up again. From his lowly position on the floor he was perfectly placed to see the high high heels and slender ankles now descending the stairs. The deep dark blue velvet of her dress was split to just above the knee and he followed it with his eyes over her shapely legs, up to her gently rounded stomach and curved hips. Lingeringly he traced the dip of her waist and the swell and cleft of her breasts to her face... where he froze, struck immobile by something he saw there.
"Hello Andrew." She said.
*****
Slowly he got up and looked at her. She stood on the stairs, holding onto the arm of a dark haired man with broad shoulders who looked at Andrew through narrowed eyes, wondering who this stranger was who'd caused his date to dig her fingernails suddenly and painfully into his arm.
"Hi." Said Andrew, shortly, his body still frozen in shock at this ghost from the past finding him in his new and shiny life. He'd spent years working his arse off to get to this point. Now he was standing on the brink of the success he had craved, only to be faced with the woman who had been the catalyst to his transformation.
"This is Eduardo." She said, introducing the swarthy man at her side.
"Nice to meet you," Andrew said, sliding automatically into meet-and-greet mode. He'd managed to place the man now: some bright young thing in the film production circuit known as much in the media for his brooding macho thing as his talent for creating innovative documentaries.
Andrew hated him for his smooth confidence, seemingly effortless success and most of all for the fact that Eva was on his arm, but you never knew who could give you a helping hand and he was too used to 'making nice' to stop now.
He hadn't seen Eva for nearly five years but she had changed very little. Her skin was still milk-white and unblemished and her hair, though cut shorter so it swung round her cheeks, was still dark and lustrous. Time had added only a gloss of sophistication and confidence and chiselled the fine bones of her face; accentuating her beauty.
The passing years had made a greater mark on Andrew. Large amounts of time spent filming outdoors had weathered his skin to a rich, nutty brown and aged it prematurely. The tan set off the blue of his eyes and the crinkles that had formed at the corners gave him an amiable air and a rugged attractiveness. He'd shaken off the sweet-faced boy and looked like a man who had had some experiences and come through the other side.
Eva narrowed her eyes as she looked him up and down, noting all the details, big and small, that had changed since she saw him last. Uncomfortably he made polite small talk with Eduardo, or the Italian Stallion as Andrew began to think of him sneeringly, fully aware that she was scrutinising him as he exchanged thoughts on the industry and a brief CV.
She couldn't help but feel a frisson of attraction to the rough, confident man standing in front of her. There was a notable difference between Eduardo's smug arrogance and self-satisfaction and Andrew's quiet containment and certainty.
Yes, he'd changed a little and the changes intrigued her, but there was still, somewhere, an element of the relationship they had had. The passion and intensity they had shared, the things they had been through and the love they had felt for each other.
It was funny, she mused, but she couldn't remember now why they had broken up. Presumably there had been good reasons at the time, but she couldn't think what they were now.
The conversation between the two men had haltingly ground to a stop and Eva knew she had to make a decision.
"Ed, that critic you wanted to talk to is hovering over there, why don't you go and speak to him -- you said you wanted to get him on side before your next project. No no, I'll be fine by myself -- I need a drink anyway and I'm sure Andrew can take care of me till you get back..."
Her voice trailed off as she said this. Eduardo had already glided off in pursuit of his prey and it was just her and Andrew now, looking at each other. He looked a question at her, not believing that she had just handed herself over to his care; still doubting even as she took his arm lightly and he felt a jolt running through his body from the point of contact.
For a while they walked; drinking the cheap wine, exchanging life stories from the intervening years, carefully sounding each other out. Gradually they impinged more and more on each other's personal space, breathing in the scent of the other and sensing the heat from their body.
The attraction between them created a massive magnetic force which drew them closer together whilst explicitly excluding all others. Eduardo had looked over at one point and, with a small flicker of disgust shrugged off his disappointment and made friends with some minor starlet of the blonde and busty variety.
Now it was just Eva and Andrew, stunned into a nostalgic feeling of closeness by all the things that were the same, yet powerfully fascinated by all that had changed.
The world seemed to tip a little on its axis when Andrew casually brushed her arm with his fingers. She was shocked by the course roughness of his fingertips and the unbidden vision of how it would feel to have him touch other parts of her body with them. He was overcome by the cool silkiness of her skin and the sudden recollection of how her body felt like velvet against his: always cool and so remarkably smooth.
Very little was being said now, for all communication was exchanged by way of long, lingering looks, seemingly accidental touches and the ever decreasing space between their bodies.
Andrew only realised he had been staring at her mouth when the tip of her pink tongue darted out and wetted her upper lip. He closed his eyes and reeled as he was struck by images of her mouth wrapped around his flesh, her tongue caressing him as her long fingers stroked and squeezed...
Abruptly he turned away from her, putting his hand across his eyes as he unconsciously tried to shut out the memories and imaginings that were assailing him.
"Eva, I can't do this," he said in an undertone, his voice wretched with lust and distress.
She moved towards him, but paused as he said this. She realised that too much had happened in the past and they had both changed so much in the interim that it would be almost impossible for them to be happy together now. Even so she couldn't resist this opportunity to recreate one of the happiest times in her life.
Softly she put her hand on Andrew's chest, looking up into his eyes as she stood in front of him.
"We have very different lives now and we are so different ourselves from what we were. I think we both know that we won't be able to have a relationship, but Andrew, I've missed you and I want you."
She cringed as she heard the clichés coming out of her mouth, but there didn't seem to be any way of expressing herself that didn't sound trite.
"Could we not be together just for one night? I..." she fumbled for the words she needed to persuade him. She had hurt him in the past and he was resisting her, wanting to avoid the pain of losing her again.
She put the cool palm of her hand against his cheek, feeling the slight bristle of stubble and the hot skin of his face. She looked into his eyes and saw how much he wanted her too. She tried to say that she wouldn't hurt him again, that she needed to be loved again the way he'd loved her and that she didn't know how they could make it work, but she wanted them to have at least this night together.
All Andrew saw was love and lust and anguish. He couldn't bear to be so close to her and look into her eyes like that, so he closed his: shutting her out. Then he felt her lips on his, just lightly, as if she was kissing him goodbye.
Having her mouth against his, the slight tackiness of her lip-gloss sticking to his lips, her breath hot against his face -- he crumbled. He wanted her so much and his strength of will was dissolved by her tender gesture in the face of rejection.
His arm went around her waist, his other hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers tangled in her hair. He opened his eyes to be confronted by her look of shock and the traces of tears in her eyes and then he pressed his mouth firmly against hers.
