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“Yuck,” I sputter. “Now I know what he was talking about. It doesn’t need updating. It needs to be demolished by a wrecking crew. Bulldozers and all. I need a clean slate to work with.”
Shaking my head at the amount of work I have ahead of me, I decide that’s a problem to tackle another day.
Tonight, all I want to do is get a good night’s sleep.
Scanning for my belongings, I notice that my bags are tucked away in the far right-hand corner, situated near a lounge chair and end table. I rush over to grab them and toss them onto the chaise lounge. Recognizing the frayed maroon bag that carries my clothes, I unzip it and pull out my nightgown.
The material is threadbare and discolored from its many uses, but it’s my favorite and is well-loved. It’s a comfort item for me. Something that grounds me and makes me feel like things in my life aren’t so unbalanced. It’s a contrast to my surroundings, reminding me that I don’t fit in here. I may come from money, but I’ve never had any of my own. I’ve never lived like this and it’s… humbling.
Shaking my head at where my thoughts have traveled, I grab the smaller bags containing my hygienic essentials and bring them with me into the attached bathroom. As soon as I step foot inside, my jaw drops.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I huff as I take in the way it’s been furnished.
The only thing about this decor worth keeping is the giant clawfoot tub that takes up the majority of the room. Holy moly, I could fit five… or ten of me inside of that blasted thing. But no matter how monstrous the tub itself is, and no matter how much space I could make use of if I installed a new one, I’ve already made up my mind… it’s staying. I’ll work around it and update the rest of the area to where it’s not so flashy.
“First to go is that wallpaper,” I mumble. “That’s an eyesore.” The backdrop is blood red with huge, exorbitant gold flowers that are geometrical. They’re all the same exact size, no dichotomy whatsoever. “Why not gold? It seems to be the theme of this entire suite.” The snort that escapes me has me clapping my palm to my mouth. It’s rude of me to be so judgmental, but seriously? It’s a bit too much in the grand scheme of things.
Even the sink and toilet are speckled in gold. It’s… nauseating.
Used to more neutral, and dull colors surrounding me that I ignored them for years, I can do the same here. Shrugging my shoulders, I pull everything from my bag and begin shelving my toiletries, lining the shower with my shampoo, conditioner, and body soap. My moisturizer, toothpaste, and toothbrush get placed neatly along the sink. I don’t have any cosmetics. They were forbidden at the abbey.
It’s an offense to paint your face as far as the nuns were concerned. That belonged to the ladies of the night, meant to entice men, and lure them into committing a sin… a lustful one that’s seen as one of the worst sin next to greed.
With my things unpacked, I feel more settled and less twitchy. Searching through cabinets, I locate the body towels, washrags, and hand towels. There are fancy, decorative ones already pulled and situated on top of the sink, but the thought of using them makes me edgy. Instead, I choose to use the plain, less ornamental ones.
Once my face has been washed and my teeth have been scrubbed, I turn off the light and step back into the bedroom. A shadow jumps out at me, causing me to squeal.
When the light shines on my intruder's face, I gulp. Not from fear anymore, but from intrigue. “Holy, Mother Mary, Julius. You scared the life out of me.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, Shayne, but that’d be a lie, because I’m not.”
He prowls toward me like a predator who’s found its prey to capture and devour.
As soon as we’re nose to nose, he asks, “Have you ever been kissed, Shayne? Because I really want to know what your lips taste like.”
“N-no,” I stutter, shuffling my feet, but my vision stays locked firmly on his face.
For an older man, he’s stunningly handsome.
His white button-down shirt is undone at the top and unbuttoned midway down his stomach, and his tie is hanging loosely around his neck. It’s unknotted, resting lifelessly down his sternum. His hair hangs long. I hadn’t noticed before that it wasn’t cut short because he had it pulled back from his face. Now that it’s loose, I’m struggling with the instinct to run my fingers through it to see if it’s silky like it looks, or if the strands are coarse. He has specks of gray highlighting his age, but to me, it makes him more refined.
Irresistible.
My interest has always been drawn to more mature men, but I never allowed myself to wonder why that is.
“Would you like to? Can I kiss you, Shayne?”
My brain goes haywire, because, yes, I’d very much like for him to kiss me. But my upbringing has made me standoffish and demurer than the typical woman in this decade. I'm modest and have been told that all carnal activities are only to happen in the confines of the marital bed. Kissing leads to more lecherous actions, and I’m certain I’m not ready for that.
Would I be considered a jezebel if I gave in and allowed myself to succumb to such a sinful transgression? My teachings say yes, but my soul screams no.
For once, I want to forget about everything that’s been forbidden to me and give in to my womanly wilds.
“Yes.”
“Thank you for this gift, Shayne,” he huskily says. When his head cants to one side, mine automatically mirrors the tilt. A sly smile erupts as he leans forward. He lightly grazes my lips with his, and a flicker of electricity dances throughout my entire body from the short contact.
“More,” I whisper.
