NOT JUST LIKE OLD TIMES
1
Edith thought that she really did have to get a hold of herself. If he failed to do that, and after seeing Milo again, then her secret might well become known or become obvious to the others and her husband, Adam, in particular.
The guests to a summer party, in her riverside home, were happily and noisily gathered downstairs for a commonplace event that she and Adam always hosted and for what might, yet, become a defining moment in their lives together. Milo's admiring glance, as he was greeted, was just as she remembered it. How he was dressed, however, in a navy-blue lightweight summer suit and a white open-necked shirt contrasted sharply with the young man she had last seen. Chunky and stylish white trainers, with thick soles, made him look rebelliously chic.
"You made it," she had whispered on greeting him.
"Yes, I couldn't have stayed away. You look wonderful, again." His admiring glances upon her were remembered only too well from that morning when she had met him at her yoga class.
She had excused herself to run upstairs, her reason to do so to fix her hair differently; that it was too warm and breezy to have it wafting about her face. The real reason was that she needed time to control her raging emotions about what she was getting into with him.
The hairbrush trembled in her slender-fingered hand as she brushed out her silken black hair. She stifled a curse as with one hand the brush was put down on the dressing table and the other held her hair. She then braided it, deftly, at the base of her neck, a jewelled clasp soon holding it in place.
She had purposefully taken care of her appearance, choosing to wear a new summer dress, the ruched white cotton decorated with random bunches of petite red flowers set among leafy fronds. The skirt was floaty and swirly, flattered her slender figure and the bodice left one shoulder exposed and knotted at the other. A beaded lariat necklace hung down onto the swell of her breasts, their rounded firmness shaped by the fabric, but not overly so, and on one wrist she had tied bangled leather-strap bracelets, the gemstones matching those of her earrings. They were delicate silver strands with a heart-shaped burnt-orange gemstone centrepiece, the colour of the flowers to be seen on her dress, the gemstones matched by her nail varnish.
It had all been bought and chosen for this day and she had done so not only to lift her spirits but also to suggest to Milo that she had dressed for him; that he would see another woman and contrast her with the one that he had met a week or so ago. It had been a meeting as unexpected as it had been distracting from all that prevailed in her life until that moment.
Milo was not a toy boy, as some might disparagingly describe him and her involvement with the young man who would be confident as he mixed with her guests. He was twenty-seven and a fiendishly clever engineer who had designed, built, and then patented a small room heater that was so efficient that investors in his start-up venture were knocking at his door, keen to invest more in it and to see the start-up business grow and to encourage his mercurial inventive skills.
"Don't be long," he had asked in a low voice, following her for a few steps and his excuse to take a drink from one of the trays studiously placed on a table close to where they had been standing. Some of the guests, including his parents, were near neighbours on this stretch of the Thames riverbank and were out on the decked balcony enjoying the views of the wooded riverbanks and the warmth of the day.
"I'll try not to be, now go and mingle. The people we've invited are no strangers to you, Milo."
Now, she closed her bedroom door and walked up the straight staircase and into the throng of guests. They were to be seen chattering in the echoing living room where the old metal roof trusses were such a feature.
Milo's gaze upon her was again met as she picked up her glass of chilled white wine and soon joined in the lively conversation that swelled all around her. She knew only too well how he felt about being close to each other but not touching or speaking of what they had discovered.
She had taken a wild chance of going with him the first time, only to realise that she wanted so much more. A recklessly passionate tryst had become a prolonged fling, the discovery of which would have ruined all of her carefully laid plans and her prenup. There was too much money and property involved for either she or Adam to stray or, if they did, to take every precaution going to avoid any risk of either party discovering that the other had shared the heat.
But Adam had declared that he had asked a special guest, to him at least, to be at the party and so uncertainty abounded.
What a change it all was from the last time Milo had been with her; unlikely, and then gloriously unexpected, as his attention to her had become not so long ago. But not now.
2
Milo had chosen to be at the gym session that day on a break from my usual routine. He had also expressed pleasure to see her there too.
"I'm here almost every week, Milo," she had replied, "and I do the exercises more intensely when I'm here."
"And compete against the others, you mean?"
"Yes, you could say that. What about you...why be here? I usually see you out sculling on the river."
It seemed to her to be a very lonely pastime and the energy that she had seen him put into moving the single scull, the smooth rhythm of his coordinated pull on the oars and thrust of his legs as Milo sat on the roller seat, had captured her attention. The exercise, the intensity that she had seen him bring to moving the scull over often choppy water, had bestowed a rugged physique of broad shoulders, strong arms and legs, and it burned off any excess fat, of which she saw none.
"I'm taking a break from work and I need to ease aches and pains. I didn't warm down enough after the competition I entered last weekend. Sculling is a great way to unwind after the stresses of my business." He had spoken easily and now he shrugged. "I'll stow my kit bag away and get a mat."
"The store by the reception desk has them," she said helpfully. "The hire charge is a pound."
"See you in there then, Edith!" he smiled, his face creasing at the sides of his mouth.
Edith saw him taking in her appearance with a single drift of his soft brown eyes over what she had chosen to wear. "You will!"
He was glad to see her, needed that distraction after a messy break-up with a woman he'd met through his business, work that had been taking up so much of his time. He had not seen Edith looking so good, the tank top and high-waisted mini shorts shaping her beautifully. They were all but a second skin on her rounded hips, the curve of her mound and revealed strong slender legs. Her skin glowed with health and was lightly tanned, her glossy black hair swept back and fastened at the nape of her neck.
To him, the name Edith was only too proper, an old-fashioned name that belonged to another age and failed to fully define the woman she had become to him. In contrast, his name of Milo was of the moment but was not so much in use as to be familiar. He'd had his share of ribbing about it, both at school and then university, but his career had not suffered and his name even set him apart from others in his field of work. He did very well out of it and already had his own place, an apartment that had views of the river and that he lived in alone.
"Yes, you will see me! Now go, or you'll miss the start."
She took a last glance at herself in the mirror, set to one side of the door, before she went into the training room and laid her mat on the floor near the front. She didn't want to be distracted from her exercises by meeting Milo's look upon her. It had been only too unwavering and approving. She turned briefly to see him enter the room, the door creaking as Milo pulled it open, and her heart gave a little skip as she met a moment's smile that he directed her way.
Two weeks had passed since she had last seen Milo sculling on the river and now she could scarcely keep her eyes off him as he laid the mat at his feet and glanced around at others in attendance before they again settled upon her.
She couldn't help but smile at him, taken as she was by him and his ways.
Milo had a sensual mouth framed by a neatly clipped moustache and a beard that was thick, but neatly trimmed, but it failed to soften the strength in his jawline. Trimmed, or not, his bushy eyebrows were straight and Milo's pensive face was topped by a mass of thick silken hair that was unruly and swept back. She could so easily drown in the dark pools of his eyes whenever she met his look her way, a stilled wondering look that went with a soft smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
It seemed that he was into her, attracted to her, and she felt a little frisson of pleasure that it was so. Adam could be so remote and consumed by his work, his travels, and periods of absence of two or three days. It was then that she regretted, even resented, the fact that they had no children that would fill the emotional void, and the hours in the day, that she was left with. Life had become a prosperous, not conspicuously wealthy, arrangement between them.
So, Milo's presence at the exercise and yoga class had opened her eyes and mind to other possibilities, and that his look upon her suggested might be on his mind too. Milo was in control of his life, of that she had no doubt, and she wondered if she could find a place in that too if distraction could be found with him.
