"Ms. Lynn, can you hear me?" "How many fingers am I holding up?" "Ms. Lynn" "Ms. Lynn can you feel..." It was like the lyrics of a faint departing music, sung with harmonies of solos and duets, each lyric fainter than the previous. Her body seemed to be floating on cool waters and her eyes were drowsy, lured into the seductive beckoning of the empty space which her eyes surrendered to, moving away from the fading voices. It was painless and quieter here, or perhaps she sought that voice which could never deliver faint music in the waters she lay on. There was nothing burdening her young heart; she sank deeper into the ocean, letting the waves carry her through, with the trust that the storm wouldn't push her to drown. "Ms. Lynn?" "Clara! Hey! I just saw your fingers move!" "Don't you fucking dare shut your eyes on me again!" A strange face in white, Sophie, Brenda... A small smile curved the side of her lips as she struggled to keep her eyes open, having stayed in that isl
The golden rays of the rising sun cast shades of surprise on Clara in the morning, beginning with Karen Seattle's arrival with the other assistants who had once been her colleagues.It was an awkward visit of course, for both the patient and the callers who had come with a bunch of flowers, crowding her room which had been converted to a hospital in three days. She sat up when she saw them, surprised and confused about what to say. Although they had fallen into an understanding along the line, it had been strictly professional and she had always had to put up a font of perfection before them. But today, she lay barely able to lift her arm, her body weakened as well as her heart.It was Karen who spoke as soon as Guinevere had received the flowers on her behalf. Sophie and Brenda left earlier that morning to catch up with the work they had missed."Word got round that you weren't feeling alright so, we came to see how you are doing." Clara didn't know how to feel at that moment; guil
He was surrounded by the familiar environment which had proven to be his best therapy for years. Here, his identity was concealed in a diamond mask, an outlet for that side of him which he hid from the world to manifest freely. Without judgments. Here, he could engage in any form of debauchery and relieve his stress in the best way; hours of romp which weren't limited to the sheets. He had created this place for that purpose; to enable other highly placed people who had been constrained by high societal expectations let it all out.From the roof top, the expansive strip club appeared smaller to Andre, so tiny from his view he could cover it with his hands. It was for this reason that he had chosen the roof top as his office, irrespective of how bizarre it had seemed to the architect in charge of the project at the time. Based on Andre's instructions, the office was made up of thick glass walls which could afford him privacy while exposing the view of all the other sections they had.
Although he knew her professional name, Andre always preferred referring to her real name since she was one of the few people who were aware of his double identity. Her real identity was of course compromised as well, which was why it had been easy to place her as Clara's housekeeper. The initial intention had been to keep an eye on Clara and ensure that she didn't spill his secret. She had reported to him every Friday before he went on stage, always keeping to the time. Like now. But he hadn't been expecting her to come tonight. She answered his question. "Clara...Ms. Lynn fired me. I'm sorry but... She found out who I was." His face fell reflexively, his throat moving as he linked his fingers together. "She just happened to know that you're a concierge here?" Guinevere shook her head. "She was suspicious and kept asking how I got to call the hospital, she... She seemed to remember that you came to her house..." "She was fucking passed out, Ms. Guinevere. She couldn't have trus
Soaking herself deep in the bathtub had been proving to be a damn good recovery therapy. Scratch that she had always enjoyed the sweet spices of the body wash that Guinevere had restocked every month even before then. Her skin had become addicted to it, glowing more especially when she moisturized it with a body milk which had come as a set with the wash, as well as oil and scrub. Despite her almost skeletal state, her skin hadn't depleted in being beautiful, and albeit more pale than it had been before, it was shimmering beneath the foamy waters she had soaked her body in. Clara played with the bubbles floating above the water, her head placed against the marble bathtub. She still didn't have everything planned out, but she had spoken to her mum and started packing to go home for a week at least. She had booked her ticket online for the next morning, the best decision she could make at the moment considering how she had insisted on sending her caretakers away. She refused to po
The heart was a willful bitch; it clung to its subject of interest irrespective of how toxic they were, and commanded the body to do the same against the mind's better judgment. Her palms tightened around Andre's jacket of their own volition, her head lying on his chest, listening to that provocatively serene music played by the fast beats of his heart. She was completely conscious today, sane enough to testify that he was really lifting her up and carrying her to the bedroom. Yet it felt like a dream she was afraid of waking up from, despite her awareness that she needed to snap out of it. Clara kept quiet, making no effort to resist which had nothing to do with the weakness that washed over her. She craved and had missed being in his arms; perceiving that faint whiff of aftershave which mingled with his cologne and masculine sweat to a signature fragrance that ought to be sold as an aphrodisiac. It was fucking awesome, inducing more sexual energy than the aphrodisiac mists use
The doorbell went off almost the same time with her phone notification sound, tugging Clara away from the blissful sleep her body had succumbed to. Her lashes fluttered as she opened her eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the semi-darkness of her room which created an illusion of the early hours of the morning. The sun was however peeping through the shut blinds, their shadows making efforts to announce the real time of the day and whisper how long she had slept to her. Her body was a testament to that; well rested and a tad stronger than her bones had been before. That didn't however imply her body's readiness to engage in a marathon. She was simply a lot less shitty than the previous night. Remembering what had woken her up, she reached for her phone which lay on the nightstand next to another quiet one, sucking a deep breath as she recalled how that other phone had kept going off incessantly in the night till Andre had changed its settings and silenced it. She told herself a
"I'll leave so you can get some rest, but I'll be back."Clara wasn't replaying those words in her head, nor were her eyes turning to the door every five minutes since seven o'clock when the sun completed its departure and the moon took precedence over the skies. She hadn't also laid in the couch in the living room in lieu of going to her bed, so she wouldn't miss hearing the doorbell when it rang.She hadn't also been missing him since her doorbell went off in the afternoon and the hospital crew appeared in her line of vision with instructions from Andre to check up on her. Neither had she thought of him as she ate the delicious healthy meal he had ordered to her address.She wasn't missing him, and she intended to lie to herself for as long as she could.Perhaps she was already reaching her breaking point, wrapped in the duvet she had dragged with her from her bed, her eyes alternating between the door and the clock. It was 9 o'clock now, and it marked two hours since her neck had