Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

The old movie turns out to be ‘Gone with the Wind’. It wouldn’t have been my first choice, but with Charlotte tucked into the crook of Michael’s arm as we watch Scarlet and her antics, I’m not complaining.

Sitting propped up with pillows, I try to read the news on my tablet, but the movie is oddly compelling. At first, I can’t figure why.

Then I realise Michael is watching me. “What?” he asks.

“Just speculating,” I say, watching Rhett with his “No, I don’t think I will kiss you, although you need kissing, badly…” speech, looming over the heroine in good old-fashioned movie style.

“Speculating about what?”

“Rhett Butler.” I nod to the screen. “Dom?”

Charlotte’s head swivels. “Master?”

“Look at him. They didn’t talk about such things in those days, but look at him.”

“But all the old movie heroes were like that, Master.”

I chew a lip. “Mmmm. I suppose.”

Charlotte looks to the screen then, mischief in her eyes, back to me. “He looks a bit like you, Master.”

“Oh, come on.”

“No, she’s right,” says Michael, wearing a hastily constructed straight face. “He does look a bit like you.”

Mmmm.…

*****

We sit sharing a late lunch. The weather hasn’t improved. It’s cold, windy and the rain is still lashing down. So it’s soup; thick and meaty with dumplings and crusty bread. Food to line the stomach and warm the blood. Michael downs his in swift economical bites. Charlotte polishes off hers then serves herself another half a bowl from the tureen. She regards it solemnly, then ladles in more until the bowl is full.

How the hell do you stay that shape?

Lots of ‘exercise’…

And long may it continue…

Michael clears his throat then, “Charlotte, I thought you’d like to know I’ve hired a new trainer for the self-defence classes.”

“That’s good.” She spears a dumpling from the serving dish, dropping it into her bowl, hesitates, then adds another. “When does she start?”

“It’s a man, not a woman. I’m trying him down in the City first, just on a trial period. If it works out I’ll bring him up here to train our high-bred ladies, perhaps in two or three weeks' time.”

“I’ll look forward to meeting him.”

Charlotte runs an eye over her husband. “Are you sure about that outfit?”

Michael looks down at himself. He's wearing white slacks and shoes and a casual white linen shirt. “No, I'm not. It was Beth's suggestion for when I’m in the hotel just playing the manager. What do you think?”

Charlotte looks to me. I cock a brow back. “He’s your husband, not mine.”

But Michael turns to me too. “What do you think?”

I take the time to swallow my mouthful. “You look as though you've stepped out of an advert for orange juice.”

He nods, sniffing. “Thought so. I'll go change back to jeans and a tee-shirt.”

Charlotte’s lips pucker. “I didn't say I don't like it.”

eyes to heaven. “Make up your

spa centre, yes. Anywhere else,

mutters, eyeballing me. “Orange juice?”

Rhett Butler, eh?

is a dish best

me the soup dish please,

*****

Twenty-Six Years

want to see

want to

… to touch her…

Surprise her maybe?

*****

I press the buzzer.

No response…

press again. This time there’s the sound of movement from beyond, the scrape of metal at the peephole, then the door

I wasn't expecting you.” She’s casually dressed and

She doesn’t look

of course not.” But her voice wavers.

never seen you dressed

and cut-off pants. “If you turn up out of the

laugh,

That damn necklace…

silver butterfly that dangles by the hollow of her

Conners’ gift...

and you're

finger the bauble. “Emeralds are a bit overdone for everyday wear don't you think?” Her voice is flat. “This is fine for when I'm

at the carpet. “Are you going to invite

due

thought we might go to lunch. There's rather a nice Italian place

I can't.

… My gut tightens…

about

scuffing at the carpet, apparently of its own volition. “You don't have to do this, Mitch. I'd

voice remains flat. “And what makes you think

to be a

Corridor….

… Neighbours…

come in. I want to talk with

“You don’t have to do this. You're too good for it. To keep

voice too… “So, I sell myself to one man

“It's not like that.”

is. The only difference is that instead of having rented myself out, I’d have sold

thought… I thought we’d connected.

it’s back to real life now. For both

client again? If I want to see you

“Nooo.” She falters.

“What then?”

then stutters

“What is it?”

it through. I don't want to take money from you, Larry. But I