Victoria
Thoroughly, I enjoyed the leisure time I’d been spending with my on-paper husband, but it felt good to get back to work. After two weeks outside of the office, I returned to the place where my heartbeat presided with new inspiration.
My spring collection would be inspired by the array of recent events in my life. The idea came to me as I was strolling along the beach near the house. The scenic views aided in generating fresh ideas that filled my sketchbook. Straying slightly from the usual covered girl style, some of the ensembles would be much showier.
There would be pieces inspired by the pink beach, the fire, and the tortoise. There would also be pieces nodding to the assumed danger of Saint. The show would progress with a transliteration of a getaway plane in the form of origami-like high fashion. Then there would be muted down pieces to resemble the peaceful vibe of the opulent house on Paramour Beach, the beach itself, and the comfort of… Saint.
Filled to the brim with creative energy, I needed desperately to express it. To ensure my ideas manifested, I held a meeting with my staff at the beginning of the day to share my inspiration. I gave them reference images to create from while informing them to be creatively free and not too literal in the designs. Everyone was excited to be creating something uniquely different from our usual safe and demure style. Some of the pieces would even be revealing, though not too much.
I wanted this project to be grand. I wanted news outlets and blogs to grab ahold of it. Excitement danced on the fringes of my mind. I was thrilled to be creating something that gave me such fulfillment. Upon our meeting’s conclusion, I got started on designing more sketches.
Seamstress assistants brought in fabric swatches to help me bring my concepts to life. Diligently, I worked my fingers until I could hardly bear it.
By the afternoon, I had a headache. Stress wasn’t the cause or anything of the sort. Already, I’d sketched out three pieces that I was prepared to share with my team, but I hadn’t eaten all day. At just after eleven, it seemed like a good stopping point. I peered at my phone for the first time since I’d begun working to find a text from Saint that made me grin.
Wyd wifey?
Saint
Without hesitation, I typed out a response and then bit my finger as I waited for him to respond.
I sketched some new pieces.
Let me see
Saint
Selecting two of my most recent sketches, I pressed send.
It’s just a starting point
Stopping for lunch now.
They look good, Beauty.
You’re so creative.
Saint
Have lunch with me
Saint
You mean get naked and
ride your dick
Mmmh.
That sounds promising
Saint
See? I’m not about to
play with you
I’m not playing.
I’m for real.
Saint
Don’t you have work to do?
I’m in the office today.
Just paperwork
and labs.
Saint
Meet me somewhere public
…So I know it’s real
Send the location.
I’ll behave. I promise.
Saint
As promised, Saint and I met up for lunch. He did end up picking me up against my protests, however. Under the promise of good behavior and no sex, we headed to a sandwich shop in Adelaide.
“You’ve been all up inside of me. I live with you, and I still can’t shake the fact that I don’t know much about you. Tell me about yourself.”
Saint was positioning his silverware on the table, lining it up perfectly–something I noticed he always did before eating–and he didn’t look up until he had them arranged to his liking.
“What do you want to know?” He floated the question as his eyes scanned the shop as if he were looking for something or someone.
Hmm. What did I want to know?
“What does a marine biologist do all day? How did you even get into that?”
“I’ve always had an affinity for water. The ocean. I used the army to further my education in marine biology. I study the ocean and marine life. I collect data and report back to my superiors on my findings. We try to make the ocean more habitable for its residents.”
“So, do you work in a lab all day?”
“Some days, I spend hours underwater, diving and gathering data amongst my aquatic friends. The days I spend out in the field are my longest days.”
I’d noticed when he came home later than usual sometimes. I never questioned why, assuming he was granting me time away from him.
“Do you encounter sharks and stuff when you’re diving?”
“I do,” he grinned before taking another sweep of the shop as someone entered. “Great whites.”
“So they’ve never attacked you?”
“Sharks don’t typically attack humans unless you make yourself appear as prey. Thrashing and flailing around in the water is a sure way to get your ass eaten up.”
“Wow. So, you’re in the water all calm, and they just… swim away?”
“Nah, Beauty. They approach out of curiosity, but then they swim away once they realize you’re a predator –or have given them the appearance of a predator– like them,” he explained.
“Pardon my density. I guess I just want to get to know you better.”
“Why the interest? We’re just doing this as a means to an end, right? Why do you need to know me?”
I scoffed. “Saint, just because we have an agreement in place doesn’t mean we have to be strangers. I live with you. I see you every day. I’ve been intimate with you. There are at least forty-nine more weeks of being around you. What’s your opposition about me getting close to you?”
“I don’t have any opposition to it, Beauty. It’s just… Nobody’s ever cared to get to know me like that.”
Oh… Okay.
All this time, I thought he was being cagey about his background when it was really excessive lonelinesshe’d retreated into. I was curious to know what was the cause. After a few moments passed between us, with him looking absently out of the window, I asked,
“Are you close to your family, Saint?”
Family backgrounds could reveal a great deal about a person, including why they behaved the way they did.
Tilting his head, he palmed the crown of it. “I am, yeah. Why?”
I shrugged. “Just wondering. You’re kind of distant in a way. Like a hermit. Don’t you ever get lonely?”
“Alone and lonely are two very different things, Beauty. Don’t pity me. I’m alone. Not lonely. Not longing for comradery or the presence of another. Willful isolation.”
“Oh.”
His explanation gathered me up and sat me down. My misplaced pity would need adjusting. I held the belief that humans were social beings who craved the company of others.
“I like being alone. It gives me time to think about things that matter most to me.”
“Like?”
“Like the PH of the ocean, reef restoration, and the happiness of the killer whales.
“That’s interesting,” I chuckled. “So, marine biology. Is that why you live near the–”
“I’ll be right back, Tori,” he blurted, leaving me utterly confused by his abrupt departure.