I have to agree some food wouldn’t go astray. Even though my mind is spinning and my emotions are all over the place, I’m sure my rational brain wouldn’t be encouraging me to drink any more alcohol without food.
‘That would be lovely, thank you,’ I say very politely, formally. I can just imagine him rolling his eyes at my behaviour.
‘Open your mouth, please.’ He is close to me.
‘In my hand will be fine, thank you.’ It feels good to assert myself.
‘Alex, this is ridiculous.’ I take another sip of champagne in defiance. Maybe being blind doesn’t result in complete dependency after all. I can’t help but allow a small smirk to ripple across my face. He quickly snatches the glass out of my hand.
My smirk vanishes immediately.
‘Open your mouth and I will give you your glass back.’
I am just about to answer back when something small and delicious lands on my tongue. Taken aback, and with a mouthful of food tickling my tastebuds, I decide to close my mouth and eat it. After all, it would be a shame to waste such tantalising cuisine. Another one arrives not long after. Blini — absolutely delicious. I can taste the strong flavour of smoked trout against the light buckwheat pancake and feel the salmon roe slide around my mouth. The slightest hint of fennel confirms they are just like the ones we had in Russia all those years ago, amazing! Though I’m pleased we are drinking champagne rather than vodka as we were back then. My stomach is very grateful for the food.
‘More?’ I hear him ask. I nod and turn toward him, not really wanting to give him the satisfaction of my words. Something warm and soft arrives this time with an aroma of garlic and herbs.
‘Mmm.’ This time I can’t help but let out a groan in delicious delight. ‘Gorgeous. Scallop?’
‘Indeed it is.’ He dabs the corner of my mouth with a linen serviette. ‘Another?’
‘Yes, please,’ I hear myself answer. After I swallow it he hands me back my glass of Krug. I sense he is happy that my frustration is dissipating alongside the food and champagne. Something about good food and wine that lifts the spirit, I think to myself.
‘Care to share your thoughts?’
I eventually come to the conclusion that my anger is a result of my anxiety about losing control, particularly as I am so used to being in control of everything. I allow the emotion to leave me, as it is serving no purpose. Given my current predicament it would make the next forty-eight hours downright miserable for both of us, so I relent and share my thoughts with him. Although I am still on edge with my blindness and the dependency that surrounds me, it feels better being at ease with Jeremy and allowing the conversation to flow between us.
After a few minutes of banter, Jeremy sidles up against me.
‘So tell me, honestly, how do you feel? Are you having fun?’ He lifts me slowly off the lounge to my feet.
‘Oh. Let me get this straight. You are allowed to ask as many questions as you want but I can’t ask any, is that the way it works?’ He caresses my neck and collarbone with his lips, oh so slowly, his breath like a feather against my skin.
‘Yes, that’s the way it works, for this weekend, anyway. There will be plenty of time for your questions later. So tell me, does this excite you?’ he asks again as his lips locate the top of my breast and I feel a little light-headed as my breath becomes radically uneven for the umpteenth time this evening. His touch engages the rest of my body and my vulva swells and moistens in anticipation. I can’t withhold a slightly muted sigh at the sensation.
‘Oh, so the answer is yes,’ he whispers into my ear as his teeth nibble my lobe.
‘Yes,’ I say breathlessly, ‘it excites me a little.’ Not wanting him to take away my words as he has my sight. His kisses feather and tease my lips.
‘It does me too, very much,’ he says as he lowers my hand to feel the bulge fighting against his trousers. It takes all of my concentration to prevent me from falling to my knees and devouring him then and there. The power of this raw, sexual emotion almost cripples me. I wonder if I know myself at all …
The phone rings at that exact moment which startles me from my fantasy back to reality. He continues to hold my hand so I blindly follow him as he answers it, taking exaggerated, careful steps to balance on my heels.
‘Wonderful, thank you. We are on our way.’ He hangs up. ‘Alex, you look panic-stricken, what’s wrong?’
‘Oh, nothing, nothing at all, why do you ask?’ I say nervously, wringing my hands together. Can it be that even with a blindfold covering my eyes, he can still read that much expression on my face?
‘Good, are you ready to accompany me to dinner?’ With these words, the panic infiltrates my bones. He can’t be serious, can he?
‘We aren’t really going out to dinner, Jeremy … I can’t possibly go out like this. Please, please tell me you’re joking.’
‘Of course we are. Why on earth would I waste you looking so exquisite and keep you confined to a hotel room? That would be absurd.’
I feel my breath shortening again. Keep calm, breathe, I say to myself, but I hear my words tumble out regardless.
‘How many times are you going to send me into overdrive tonight, Jeremy? I can’t take it, it’s too much. I try to get my mind around one thing you are asking of me, leading me into, and wham, then comes the rush of another and another.’
I draw breath momentarily before continuing on my verbal rampage. ‘I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling or even what I should say to you. This situation is too strange for me, unreal, surreal.’
I hear myself talking erratically, quickly, searching for words to account for the emotion that is threatening to totally overwhelm me.
‘I have no filters, Jeremy. You’ve taken them away, or maybe I’ve allowed them to be taken. I don’t know. Either way, it can’t be good. I’ve trained myself for too many years to give considered, thoughtful responses and now listen to me. I don’t know what I’m thinking or feeling or doing. Why are you putting me through this?’
Jeremy doesn’t answer, but I sense his closeness and know intuitively that he is staring at me intently. I take a moment to catch my breath and attempt to regain some form of composure. I feel like a child lost in the wilderness, not knowing who to trust or where to turn.
He places his arm around the small of my back, while holding my wrist and firmly steers me toward what I assume is the door of the penthouse. I hear the door open.
‘Oh no, please, Jeremy, let’s stay here. What’s the time, anyway? Isn’t it too late for dinner? I’m not really hungry, we’ve had hors d’oeuvres. Really, it would be such a waste …’
I ramble on, wedging my heels deep into the carpet, as I attempt to throw excuses in his unrelenting path.
‘We can’t possibly be seen in public, don’t you understand?’ I’m scrambling for words as he edges me closer to the door. ‘How could you even think about taking me out like this? I’m blindfolded for goodness’ sake and I have no knickers on!’
My heels wave the white flag as they surrender their grip on the floor and I catapult into his arms, and presumably out the door. I try to steady myself as best I can and he holds me firmly in his arms.
‘Where are we going anyway?’ I ask him, desperate for some form of verbal response. His silence is exasperating. He suddenly pushes me firmly against the wall, his face close to mine, his body pressing powerfully against the silkiness of my dress.
‘I know you have questions, Alexa, you always do. As I have told you, this weekend is not about your questions. I have been counting how many you have asked so far and I strongly advise that you stop, as there will be consequences for each one. Now behave yourself!’