LITMIR.BIZ

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over the years, except a little salt gently peppering his dark hair. Still confident, toned, mischievous … he does look good. If I’m really honest he looks great, actually; broad, square shoulders, six foot two inches tall, clean shaven. He smells beautiful. It has been many years since I have been this intimate with his spicy, outdoorsy scent but the cloud of arousal it stirs up penetrates deep within my core; his tight round arse looks sensational in his causal trousers. Dear god, I am in sensory overload and I have just arrived … Stop it! Look somewhere else, I scream internally as I command my eyes to slide off his body to the broader environment.

      ‘Wow, this place is amazing. Are you staying here?’

      ‘Yes, indeed I am. I’m here for the week.’

      ‘Well, you have certainly moved up in the world, my friend.’ He shrugs his shoulders and grins sheepishly. I love that smile. I love those lips. I love those lips on my breasts. God! Stop this, now.

      ‘Come on in. Relax, please make yourself at home.’ Jeremy leads me to the lounge room, obviously sensing I’m far from relaxed. Working myself into a right state would be more accurate.

      ‘I thought we were meeting at a penthouse bar for a drink. I wasn’t expecting to be in your suite.’ I try to keep my voice conversational, tempering my rising level of anxiety.

      ‘Does that cause you any concern?’ he asks directly.

      ‘Ah, oh, no.’ I stumble the words out. ‘No, not at all.’ Should it? I think to myself.

      ‘Good.’

      I hear the pop of a cork, which startles me a little, and Jeremy pours me a glass of champagne. It is perfectly chilled and the bubbles within the crystal glass provide me with a visual representation of how my stomach has been feeling most of the day.

      ‘Cheers, Doctor Blake. I’ve missed you, my friend, my confidante.’

      My heart skips a beat as he utters these words, my mind comprehending the emotional depth attached to them.

      ‘Cheers to you too, Dr Quinn.’ We clink our glasses together as our eyes capture one another’s gaze for the first time in a very long time.

      ‘How are you, Jeremy? How is your life going? Have you met anyone? Are you enjoying the US? And what about work, you sound so busy with everything …’ God, I can’t stop myself blathering! He laughs as he raises his hand to interrupt my inquisition.

      ‘You’ve never been short of a question, Alexa, have you?’ He raises one eyebrow and pauses. ‘I suppose some things never change.’ His comment is teasing and laced with innuendo.

      His look is direct, though somewhat mischievous at the same time. I shuffle uncomfortably at the intensity of his stare and the weight I assume is behind his words. I wish I could read his facial expressions more clearly but as we haven’t seen each other for so long, they are unfortunately too masked for me to decipher at this point.

      ‘It’s just that there is always so much to catch up on in the time we have. I don’t want to miss anything, don’t want to waste our conversation,’ I reply in my defence.

      ‘We won’t, I promise you. Now drink up.’

      I notice I still haven’t touched my champagne. We both sip a mouthful of the golden bubbles at the same time. It tastes so delicious, initially dry with a sweet aftertaste and I feel the bubbles pop on my tongue. I can’t help but take another.

      ‘Now, before I attempt to answer your myriad questions, tell me, what are your plans for this weekend? Who has the pleasure of your company?’

      Happy to ease back into conversation, I comfortably rattle off the details of my weekend, particularly as he knows most of the people I am seeing. I tell him about Robert and the kids being away on their great adventure and about my catching up with Samuel at the university, my family and my old school friends. He listens attentively, without interrupting, and I barely notice as he refills my glass. I can’t say whether it is nerves or excitement that keeps my chatter going and the champagne flowing.

      ‘Enough about me.’ I realise Jeremy hasn’t spoken in some time and we have plenty to discuss other than my plans for the weekend. I stop to look at him more carefully and notice his tense expression. ‘You’re very quiet, Jeremy. Is there something wrong?’

      He stands up and walks deliberately toward where I’m seated on the lounge. Silently, he squats on the floor ensuring he is looking directly into my eyes and places his hand on my stockinged knee. A mild electric current travels straight up my leg and I jerk at the sensation. The hint of a smile emerges on his face at my reaction, as if pleased he still has this impact, before it quickly disappears and he regains focus and control of the moment. I immediately blush, blending perfectly with the rose cushion at my back. There is no way he can’t notice that I am practically beside myself at his touch. Completely embarrassed, I shift my body weight uneasily on the lounge, while his position is statuesque. My rising anxiety immediately prevents me from uttering a sound.

      ‘Alexandra, I want to ask you something and I’m honestly not sure what you will say or how you’ll react.’

      It must be serious if he is using my full name.

      He pauses, staring unrelentingly into my eyes.

      ‘Which is unusual for me …’ he muses.

      He fixes both hands firmly on my knees, as if anchoring my feet to the ground lest I should fly away like a helium balloon. ‘So, I’ll just come straight out with it.’

      I don’t move an inch.

      I do nothing except hold his gaze.

      I concentrate on moderating my breathing.

      I wait for him to continue.

      ‘I would like you to stay the weekend here with me and cancel your other plans.’ He pauses, looking at me from beneath his long, thick eyelashes. My heart literally skips a beat.

      Or two. Or maybe three.

      As his gaze intensifies, I become lost in his eyes.

      Our shared, ancient memories come flooding back into my brain: flashes of university days, ridiculous pranks, lust and love and orgasms and sex, friendship, tears of laughter, tears of pain, experimentation, stolen moments. It was fun, it was edgy, exhilarating and exciting, and there seemed to be no other way with Jeremy.

      The look in his eyes conveys all of that and more to me in a few long seconds. I never knew quite what was going to happen next with Jeremy and here I am, all these years later in the same situation. Albeit with very different life circumstances. Our silent dialogue continues dancing between us. Once again daring us to take a risk that would never be taken with anyone else, only each other.

      My mind begins to race as fast as my heart. What if I did stay? Would it be the worst thing I could do? People always talk about living life to the fullest, expecting the unexpected … Wouldn’t a weekend with Jeremy make me feel more alive than I have in years? Given the effect of his touch on my knee, I can only imagine how I would respond to, well, his touch on other parts of my body …

      Finally, my motherly instinct anchors these abstract and fleeting thoughts so commonsense can prevail. My children. My life isn’t just about me any more; there are consequences for my actions. The guilt … the betrayal … Robert …. My stomach is in knots. How can I feel such anticipation and remorse simultaneously? It doesn’t make sense to me. My clinical mind quickly shifts a gear and makes a mental note to explore the psychology around such intense emotions and the resulting change in my physiology. My immediate situation renders my clinical experience redundant. God, what am I doing, thinking, feeling? Jeremy still has his hands on my knees as his eyes bore into my soul. Moments pass until, as if reading my thoughts, he releases his hold on my eyes and withdraws his touch, rising to step toward the panoramic view.

      I immediately inhale as if I have been released from a spell. I must have been holding my breath for quite some time. As he continues to stare out toward the harbour,

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