Presumably we have finished our martinis because I am guided to a standing position. Jeremy slips his arm around my waist through my bound arms. We walk away without words. Suddenly, my feet are swept out from beneath me and Jeremy carries me easily up some stairs. It makes me feel very small, even more fragile and dependent, when he can scoop my body up so effortlessly. I have no physical defence against him and my emotional ones are being systematically infiltrated. I have never relied on someone so completely. I am usually so self-sufficient and this gesture of complete possession makes me quite literally go weak at the knees.
I hear a door open and feel a flood of fresh air surround me. He lowers me directly into a chair. I can hear the noise of the city below and feel the warm humid air on my skin. I imagine the evening is as beautiful as the day was earlier. It feels good to be out of the tense energy of that room. My entire body shudders with relief at this new environment and sense of space around me.
‘Are you cold?’ He is obviously watching me as intently as I had supposed he was. Before I can stop myself, I shake my head, acknowledging his question. So much for ignoring him. I continue to sit as still and straight as possible. I sense that he continues his attempt to decipher my every mood and reaction.
‘Would you like some music, or would you prefer to sit in silence?’ He always had a knack for procuring an answer other than yes or no. I sigh inwardly but don’t answer him. This is his game, his rules, so I assume he will decide.
‘Music it is, then.’
Some light, mellow jazz music instantly commences at the end of his words. I am surprised — the music sounds live and I tilt my head in the direction of the sound. The music is smooth and melodic, vaguely familiar although I can’t quite place it at this stage. A light aroma teases my olfactory sense and I pause to consider its identity. I can detect wonderfully fresh coriander, chilli, some ginger, perhaps sesame oil. I realise Jeremy is allowing me to smell and absorb one of my favourite Thai dishes. He raises it carefully to my lips, teasing me a little. I let him play his silly games.
‘God, you look so gorgeous sitting here, so beautiful, so vulnerable, so stubborn. The night is spectacular, let me describe it for you. There is a full moon rising from the east, looking magnificent, not a cloud in the sky. The city lights are shining neon everywhere around us. We’re on the rooftop of the hotel, and we are the only guests here, so you don’t need to worry about anyone recognising us. The table has been set simply but is sophisticated, like you. I have ordered your favourite foods, your favourite wine, your favourite music. We are finally able to share these things in style with no expense spared. Alexa, I have longed for this moment with you and it is even more perfect in reality. I have you all to myself. You sitting there so still, bound and blind, being so brave, it is just melting my heart. I would release your wrists, but the vision of you sitting before me like this is giving me such a surprising hard on, I am selfishly savouring the moment a little longer.’
His words leave me speechless, my body responding as it would to his touch. I hear music floating around my ears.
‘May I have this dance?’ It appears to be a rhetorical question as I am escorted to my feet. He releases my wrists from behind my back only to refasten them together around his neck. It seems as if I’ll be dancing regardless. Does he honestly think I’m going to run away from a high-rise rooftop when I’m blind? The thought flitters flippantly through my mind … My brain finally recognises the riff that has been playing since our arrival. His hips start to move, I clumsily move with him, I don’t have much choice. He holds me close to him until we gain some form of synchronicity. He places my head on his shoulder and I can feel the smooth fibres of his shirt and, behind that, the heat from his chest. I’m intrigued by the specific choice of the song. I don’t resist the rhythm of his body. I inhale. I exhale. Words float into the music that he knows I love.
The saxophone, guitar, drums and percussion caress away the anxiety I experienced before, and I effortlessly glide in his arms as he leads me confidently around the dance floor. Jeremy carefully and skilfully dissolves my tension until I am literally melting into his arms. His touch is exquisite, not too much, not too little. The sexual chemistry cascading over our bodies is once again impossible to ignore.
We dance, we eat, we drink, we talk, we kiss, we laugh.
I am blind but no longer bound.
I allow myself to compartmentalise any fear I felt downstairs into a distant, shrunken corner of my mind. Maybe tonight is as much for him as it is for me, maybe it is about us, I don’t know. Finally the scales tip and I can say I am here now more by choice, rather than force. After feeding me dessert, an extravaganza of taste sensations: smooth, silky chocolate ganache, with a hint of something — orange perhaps or some other citrus — in crisp, buttery pastry, accompanied by a sticky dessert wine that leaves my tongue thick in my mouth. I am floating on air.
‘Alex, would you sing for me, while we have the band still with us?’
I smile at his question. ‘It’s been years since I have sung anything.’
‘Please, it is only us. Any song you choose. There is a guitar here for you.’
Jeremy used to love listening to my girlfriend Amy and I jam together on rainy Sunday afternoons. I was embarrassed at first but we became used to his presence on these occasions. Even though I have consumed a considerable amount of alcohol since my arrival, I’m surprised that I feel only a little tipsy, not drunk. Perhaps more hours have passed than I realise, or the degree of sheer emotion and nervous energy scorching through my body has burned off the alcohol. The idea of doing something I haven’t done for years suddenly appeals to me.
‘Why not? Just one song.’
He sounds surprised and excited that I agree so readily. I want to keep the mood this way rather than revert back to my previous antagonism. I think of the words of the songs we have just been dancing to and wonder what our relationship is really about, what it means to him? I remember a song we sang and which he used to love to accompany us with improvised percussion on saucepan lids. It was about best friends and was always special between us. Jeremy assists me with the guitar and I ask him to leave me with the band.
‘I’ll wait by the table. Enjoy!’ he encourages, as he kisses me on the cheek. It takes me a little while to get comfortable with the guitar and establish the right key. My fingertips have softened over the years from lack of playing; the strings feel raw and hard against them as I adjust to the sensation and slide my hand along the neck of the guitar. I have to go on feel rather than sight but thankfully I know the words and chords by heart. I begin …
A tear trickles out of my left eye as I finish the song to resounding applause from the band. It felt incredible, to sing again, to play, to do something I thought I’d forgotten. I loved it! I’m euphoric as I blindly thank the band for the opportunity and they help me to put the guitar down. I can’t help but consider I would never have done this if I could see … As I stand up Jeremy swoops in to give me an all-encompassing hug.
‘That was fantastic. You were amazing!’ He pauses. ‘Is that emotion I detect on your cheek, Dr Blake?’
‘I think I found my voice again.’ I wonder why I use these words.
Another drop of emotion finds its way from my eye to my cheek. I can’t understand why I am feeling this way but singing and playing somehow strikes a chord in me, one that hasn’t been accessed for many years. I remember reading once that it was important to understand where your tears come from as they have a direct connection to your heart.
What is he doing