6. Mary
Mary
‘Where’s your hotel?’ I asked John, who had taken my hand in his as if it were the most natural thing in the world and I had to admit that I loved the feel of his hand around mine.
Big and strong. Slightly callused. It made me want to know more about what he did, but I was nervous of letting the real world intrude too much. Afraid of bursting this bubble.
I also loved walking next to him, even in my eye-wateringly high-heeled ankle boots that hadn’t been chosen with walking much in mind.
Dusk was falling, imbuing everything with a bruised colour.
It had been one of those unseasonably lovely spring days when the signs of summer were so tantalisingly close.
People were spilling out of bars and the atmosphere was buzzy and effervescent.
Or maybe I just felt effervescent at this very unexpected development.
He glanced down at me, ‘Down on the river.’
‘Oh, OK.’ That wasn’t far. Nowhere was too far in Dublin’s city centre.
‘So, you grew up here?’ he asked.
I nodded. ‘Yes, but actually I was born in New York, as were my younger brother and sister. My parents, both Irish, met there and got married, and had us before moving back here after Caitlin was born.’ I looked up at him, ‘You’re ... American?’
He looked down as we waited at a pedestrian crossing. ‘How did you guess?’
I shrugged minutely. ‘Oh, I don’t know – a certain level of confidence.’
He quirked a brow. ‘A polite way of calling me pushy and arrogant?’
I smiled. ‘You said it, not me.’
He threw back his head and laughed, and his deep-bellied rumble went straight to the spot between my legs.
Jesus. I didn’t even know the man, but I wanted to make him laugh again.
Because it sounded rusty, like he hadn’t laughed in a while.
I saw people doing double takes as they clocked this vision of male perfection in his steel-grey suit. I could empathise.
‘You got me,’ he said. ‘American. Born and bred in New York.’
‘Your accent isn’t strong.’
For the first time since we’d met, he avoided my eye as he said, ‘No, I grew up moving around a bit so it’s pretty neutral.’
I wondered what that meant, but it didn’t seem as if he was going to elaborate. And why would he? We were hardly going back to his hotel to plait each other’s hair and make friends.
We were by the river now and he led me to one of Dublin’s most exclusive hotels, an old red-brick building that oozed elegance and hipness all at once.
We went straight to the elevators and stepped in.
John let my hand go and pressed a button.
It moved upwards in a smooth motion and I tried not to think about what I was doing.
Going back to a stranger’s hotel room to have sex.
I thought of what Caitlin might say – she’d only ever seen me as the mother figure.
Strict, but loving. Responsible. I wasn’t being responsible now. Far from it and it felt … exhilarating.
The elevator doors opened into a corridor and he let me get out first. A gentleman.
Another reason to melt. He went to a door at the end of the corridor and opened it, letting me step inside.
It was a vast, airy space with a spiral staircase leading to an upper floor.
There was a grand piano. Huge windows looking out over the River Liffey. A terrace.
‘I’ve heard about this place, but I’ve never been before,’ I said. ‘It’s a bit out of my league.’ But obviously not his.
‘Can I get you anything? We did leave the bar before you finished your drink.’
I looked at him. ‘Because I was rushed out of there.’ And you ran all the way, Mary.
‘So let me make it up to you. What would you like?’
I fancied something effervescent, like I felt right now – full of nerves but also excitement. ‘Something with bubbles?’
He went over to a cabinet and opened the doors, revealing a whole bar. He’d shucked off his jacket and draped it over a chair. I took in his broad back tapering down to narrow hips and then firm, muscular buttocks.
‘Will Prosecco do? There’s no champagne, but I could order it up.’
I lifted my gaze guiltily; he had a slight smirk around his mouth, he knew exactly what I’d been looking at. I fought not to blush or scowl. ‘Prosecco is fine, thanks.’
He went back to the bar and poured himself a whiskey, and came back, holding his glass out. ‘Cheers.’
I tipped my glass off his. ‘Cheers.’ I took a sip, relishing the fruity, fizzing drink.
‘Thank you for coming with me.’
I suddenly felt shy. ‘Thanks for asking.’ I realised my feet were killing me. I lifted a foot. ‘Do you mind if I take them off?’
His eyes glinted and his mouth lifted on one side. ‘Not at all – make yourself comfortable.’
I slipped off the shoes and also let my jacket fall off my shoulders, placing it and my bag on a chair.
It felt so strange to be here. For so long I’d had to be responsible for someone else and it was really hitting me that I was free, to do …
whatever I wanted. My life was my own for the first time in a decade.
That was a revelation that threw up far too much, precipitating equal parts fear and excitement, so I pushed it aside. Enough to be dealing with right here, right now, without adding more into the mix.
‘Do you want to go out onto the terrace?’
‘Sure.’
‘Wait a second …’
I watched as he disappeared up the spiral staircase and then reappeared a few moments later with hotel slippers. Thoughtful. More melting. I slipped them on and we went outside. The view along the river was gorgeous.
I felt proud of it, as if the city had given itself a glow-up especially for John.
What’s his real name? No, I answered myself.
Tonight isn’t about reality. It’s a moment out of time.
My skin tightened as he stood beside me.
I was much smaller now without the heels and again he made me feel ridiculously petite next to him.
‘I haven’t been here before,’ he said. ‘It’s pretty. Not many tall buildings.’
I shook my head. ‘No, we’re about as far removed from Manhattan as you could get. That’s where you live?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, I have a few other places around but that’s my base.’
‘A few other places’ said so casually. I was getting the distinct sense that this man was a somebody.
One of the most expensive hotel rooms in Dublin.
The suit, which had to be bespoke because it molded to his muscles so well.
His general air of arrogance, confidence and assurance.
He was a man who moved through the world as if he was used to it doing his bidding. Like me. I shivered a little.
He noticed. ‘You’re cold; we’ll go back inside.’ I followed him in. ‘Are you hungry? We could order up some food?’
I looked at him and mustered all the courage I could. ‘I am hungry … but not for food.’ I couldn’t think about eating, not while my insides were fizzing and jumping with anticipation.
He smiled. ‘Funnily enough, that’s exactly what I’m thinking too.’ He held out his hand. I took it and let him lead me to the spiral staircase. He released my hand. ‘Ladies first.’
I went up and he followed right behind me – I’d never felt so conscious of myself.
When I got up to the next level, there was a massive bedroom suite with doors leading out onto an upper terrace, and a small living room.
I spied a dressing room and sumptuous en suite.
A few of his things were strewn around and it felt ridiculously intimate, even though we were about to become even more intimate.
The bed was enormous and sat in the centre of the bedroom space. Dressed in cool white linens. Soft lights sent out little pools of gold. I clutched my glass and took a fortifying sip.
John stood near the end of the bed. He said, ‘Come here, Elizabeth.’