The sweetness of idleness is like most pleasures, typical in its brevity.
*
Izzy lay on the bed. The mattress was very comfy. The sheets smelled of fresh linen. There was no reason for her to get up. She could lie there for ages.
Maybe a few more minutes.
How long had she been lying there already?
She took a deep breath. A smile. There. She was perfectly content . She turned her head to look at her right. She wiggled her fingers. She blew at them, but hardly any air reached her hand, instead making the light hair on her arm shiver. It was a pleasant tickle. She did it again. She rested her head on her shoulder.
Izzy turned her head to look down at her body. She was wearing a pink silk robe that crossed at the front, forming a delicious cleavage between her supple breasts. She liked the look of her heavy breasts when she was on her back. There was something about that shape. She liked the bra. Should wear it more often.
She smacked her glossed lips. She loved the feel of her full lips pressing against each other. She pressed them together again, more slowly.
"Wish somebody else was pressing their lips against mine" she pouted, thinking.
She stretched her arms, tensing the muscles in her arms and back, and with one swift movement, she rolled onto her side bringing half of the soft sheet beneath her cover her. She brought her hands to rest under her head and after stealing a quick glance at the clock, she closed her eyes.
20:46
She took a deep breath. Her eyelids fluttered, attempting to open. She slowly breathed out.
20:50
She was staring at the clock in disbelief. No progress. What a disappointment.
There was no point in trying to pretend like she was enjoying lying on a bed doing fuck all except for trying to keep her mind vacant.
She turned on the TV, the radio and opened the curtain. She looked at the metal loops on either side of the window and decided to bother with tying the curtain.
Someone was speaking in a foreign tongue, more voices joining in, now chanting as another voice, male as well, was singing "Shawty had them apple bottom jeans (jeans)/Boots with the fur" to a hip-hop beat.
She began toying with her lower lip, pinching and twisting it. She slowly ran one finger across the soft flesh, slowly enough to memorise each dry groove, dipping slightly in the middle, at the natural curve of her lip.
Two men were now in a quarrel, shouting over each other. The third one had moved onto "next thing you know".
Izzy raised one eyebrow, smiled and swaying her hips to the beat she sang out with him
"low, low, low, low, low, low, low, low"
She wished she actually had somebody to get low to. That man.
The way he held himself, the graceful, confident movements, the way he checked his cufflinks every ten minutes. And she stared at him long enough to see him do that multiple times. She could've been sat there on her own, in silence, with no company, just looking at him...
Like a damn bored fool.
"Hi, I hope such a fine gent like you isn't here by himself"
"I am indeed" his eyes roamed all over her body. "And is this magnificent lady all by herself tonight because " He paused to look into her eyes "I don't understand how no man who has beheld you has not wanted to be your companion this" he slowly spoke "night".
Izzy sat down in front of him.
"I can assure you, there has been plenty of wanting, but... not all who want can succeed in fulfilling their... wants"
His gaze moved from her eyes to her lips and lingered there before slowly moving back to her wide bright eyes.
"And is there joy to be had for any... one of those who desire?" his eyes seemed to flicker with dark desire in the soft candle-light.
"If... he who wants has the desire that is strong enough... then there is every chance for the joy to be had"
"Then..." his eyes fell on her cleavage and drank in the delicious sight with pleasure coursing through his body "may I have the opportunity to have... my own desire tested?"
Izzy burst into laughter and even snorted. She slumped on the vanity table and propping her chin on her folded hands, she looked up into the mirror. She widened her green eyes and they became almost circular. "What am I going to do with you?" She pressed her index finger to her he left eyebrow, smoothing it out, shaping it.
With a heavy sigh, Izzy got up and strode to the kitchen. She opened one cupboard and found it to be empty. The door slowly closed with not making a sound. Disappointed, she looked at a couple of others, but all she could find were some dishes. She opened the fridge. Its hollow insides lay illuminating empty shelves. She rapped the fridge door with her fingers and then closed it angrily. It defiantly took its time.
She looked out the window. Lights glimmered peppering the darkness of the city. She'd rather be there, in the buzzing and brimming lights of the city, even in the cold. Two girls walked past the building wearing sleeveless dresses. It can be ignored.
She dropped into a fauteuil and leaned back. With a glum look on her face, she watched the changing scenes on the TV screen, as a warehouse exploded and three men, defying the flames, were confidently striding towards the camera. She turned her gaze to look at the carpet.
Unlike boredom.
"Madam, the gentleman at the table by the window has asked to give this to you."
A single A5 sheet of thick white paper, folded in half, was placed on her table. She took it in her hands and looked at the table. Four men in suits were sat in leather armchairs, enveloped in cigar smoke, nursing a bottle of cognac and talking. They laughed and she thought that one of them took a furtive look at her. She quickly diverted her gaze at the piece of paper.
She unfolded it and looked at the single inscription in black ink.
506
Izzy put it onto a plate that had remnants of chocolate mousse. She should've got a panna cotta. The mousse was always too sweet.
She felt eyes on her and immediately looked up. The men were consumed in a debate.
The mousse was too rich.
"A bottle of Perrier, please"
