Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

James

“Morning, Kirstie.”

The concierge smiles from her desk as we enter and cross the lobby. “Good morning, Mr Alexanders. Morning Charlotte.” Then she riffles through a stack on her in-tray. “Oh, Charlotte. Some mail for you. I had to sign for this one.” She offers a small padded envelope, then, clearing her throat, “Um, James…”

“I’ve not forgotten my promise, Kirstie. I’m seeing Ryan later this week on-site. I’ll make a point of allowing extra time for a chat with him.”

“Thank you.” She bobs her head, the pearl on her velvet choker bobbing with her.

Charlotte looks curiously but briefly, her attention taken by the packet. She receives very little mail.

And there’s only so many people who might send her a package…

My antennae twitching, “Why don’t we go up to my office,” I say. “Have a coffee together before we start the working day. You can open it there…”

… In privacy…

She nods, going into silent running. As we ride the elevator, she crosses her arms, then uncrosses them, then recrosses them, all the while clutching the packet.

As the doors swish open, Francis looks up from her desk. “Coffee for two, please, Francis.” And as I wave Charlotte into my office I turn back to the receptionist and hold an invisible telephone receiver to my ear, then draw a finger across my neck in a cut-your-own-throat gesture, mouthing at her silently: “Michael.”

She nods understanding and heads for her phone.

Inside the office I prise the envelope from Charlotte’s fingers, placing to one side. Then taking her by the shoulders, I turn her to face me. “I’m tempted to take it from you, open it for you and only tell you what is inside after I’ve checked it for myself. But I don’t think that would be right. However…” I lay a fingertip on her lips… “I will ask that, whatever is in there, you remember our conversation of a few days ago. Alright?”

She’s blinking too quickly. Her movements are jerky, but, “Yes, Master.”

the envelope again. She starts to open it but pauses as we are interrupted by Francis tapping at the door, bringing in the coffee. Her eyes flick to the envelope and flick away again just as

it open, fighting heavy-weight gum which refuses to

plastic

over onto my desk. A small plastic zip-bag

bag; a necklace: a fine chain bearing a butterfly in silver filigree. She slides it out, holding it up to the light where it spins, glimmering. It’s

But I wait.

folded in two; a

come to see me.

be able to write it himself, of course,” she comments, “if he

wouldn’t. What do

with the clasp

her hair to one side, I fasten the chain behind her neck, the butterfly sitting beside

in her hand and my face, then, as I eye-point him down, to the butterfly resting below the hollow

registers what he is seeing and silently I pass him the note. He reads it, then

touches the butterfly, sucks

*****

promise to keep. And I’m not

we met, in a three-way scene with Michael at the club years

however well-meaning, is

fine. I’m very happy with the schematics

chuckles at my expression then proffers a folder. “I just wanted to be sure you

Efficient as ever…

I sit down again. “Just give me two minutes

too, waiting calmly as I scan

Well within budget…