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Tenth Day of Christmas
Ten Lords a’Leaping
She went back to her routine of breakfast on the balcony, savoring her last few days in paradise. The flowers nodded at her in the breeze and a shining white egret perched on her rail for a time, cocking its head at her in hopes of scammin
g some of her croissant. It was Friday and by Monday morning she’d be back to eating her steel-cut oats before taking the train to her office.
The bird was not getting the least crumb.
Opening the day’s note, she settled back in her chair, stretching out her legs.
My lovely Roo,
It’s odd, writing these notes one after another, knowing you’ll read them days apart. IF you behaved and did as I said, that is. I am operating as if you did obey, though I recognize you owe me no allegiance now.
I wonder what you chose to do last night? The wondering is killing me, to tell the truth. I think you went to watch the strippers, but did not dance. One day, perhaps, we will meet again and you can tell me if I was right. The image of you dancing, however, is seared into my brain. Is it horribly jealous of me if I confess that I hope you did not dance naked for those men and women at the club? You are a free woman with a mind of her own—you always were, weren’t you? I see that now—and you will decide who to dance for. Perhaps your next lover, whoever that might be.
I reserve the right to hate him, just a little. I hope you’ll forgive me that, too.
Today I hope you’ll move into the penthouse suite. You will have it to yourself until you leave on Sunday. I asked that it be cleaned and stocked for you. You don’t have to, of course, but it would make me happy to imagine you there.
Have a sunset cocktail for me on the deck and wait. Yes, ten young “lords” will come dance for YOU. Had I been with you, I would have encouraged you to touch and be touched by them, but only I would have had you. Now, and always, you may do as you wish.
I know I don’t have to tell you to enjoy.
Miguel
With a half-smile, she refolded the note and slipped it back into its envelope. Funny how her request for more instructions had led Miguel to say more of what was on his mind than he had in all the days they were together. Such an intriguing man.
She missed him, too.
Of course she moved into the penthouse suite. She made good money, but not the kind she’d ever pay those kind of prices with. At first it felt lonely, so large and empty without Miguel’s larger-than-life presence, but it was good for her to make this transition. Her daily life rarely allowed time for much male companionship. Better to ease back into that mode than go cold turkey. One thing she knew for sure was that she’d rather be alone than be in some eternal compromise with yet another version of Greg. No more settling for “good enough.”
Perhaps she could find a version of Miguel. Someone to play with, to shake her foundations and blow her mind and body—then let her go her way. Surely people did that.
She spent the day doing her favorite things—snorkeling, sunbathing on her private deck naked, reading, ordering decadent food from room service. She talked to the salon about a navel piercing and scheduled an appointment for Sunday just before her flight, since she wouldn’t be able to swim afterward.
Miguel’s last two notes sat side by side on the polished marble counter. So tempting to read them, if only to salve that tender part of her that kept looking for him on the terrace or for his brown limbs sprawled against the white sheets of the bed they’d shared.
When sunset neared, she showered and dressed up. The “lords” arrived with a flask of lemon-drop martinis and Russian caviar with sour cream. She got a little drunk, enjoying the private show. But, though they invited her, she kept her hands to herself.
They were young and gorgeous, but her fingers itched for someone else’s skin.
January 4
Eleventh Day of Christmas
Eleven Pipers Piping
She put the second-to-last note on the bedside table, so she could read it first thing in the morning. Okay, maybe she’d gotten a little too drunk on the excellent martinis and a bit maudlin as a result. But there was no one to witness it.
As soon as she opened her eyes—surprisingly early, but then, she hadn’t managed to stay awake much past when the dancing boys left—she opened the envelope. This one was multiple pages. As soon as she took in the opening lines, she decided this one called for coffee first. While she waited for the delivery, she took a dip in the aquamarine pool and calmed herself enough to read the rest.
Well, well, Miss Tilda Campbell, CEO of Campbell Medical Equipment,
Aren’t you full of surprises? I confess I just looked you up on the Internet. I was compiling some notes for your day ahead, should you choose to accept your mission, and checked a few things via the almighty Google. It struck me to search for you, as well, and there you are.
“Sales” indeed.
