Hathor [18+]

The figures in the snow

Hathor Bloom

I woke up this morning in my bed; I don't remember coming back up, but I do remember a call with Nikolai. It was sweet and it meant a lot to me, how could I forget? It made me feel less alone; even if he isn't here physically, it's endearing that he cares about me.

I slowly sat up and rubbed my eyes. My head obviously hurts from drinking all the vodka I drank last night, but a Bloody Mary should fix it.

Before going downstairs to make myself the Bloody Mary, I took a quick shower to wake myself up. Showering always helps me feel better. Then I changed into a Jacquemus cropped cardigan, and a pair of ecru knitted pants then made my merry way down to the kitchen.

I know how to make a Bloody Mary quite well since I was eight or seven. My dad would send me on vacation to the Mediterranean with my nannies — we have a couple of super yachts there — and the crew was always so kind to me; it made me so happy to be around people who seemed to be happy to see me as well. The stewardesses loved to have me behind the bar and would quiz me on the ingredients for cocktails.

Maybe I should call the Captain and ask him to prepare a yacht for me for January. Though I have to choose between Italy, Greece, France and Croatia. I've had sex with Captain Blunt before; he's extremely caring apart from handsome, plus he's one of the few men I've fucked that isn't in a relationship.

Anywho, once I had the drink in my hand, I made myself a quesadilla and then went to the piano room — it's a small sitting room parallel to the formal living room and there's a grand piano — to sit by the fireplace while I eat.

My father is most likely having fun in the snow, playing around with his young girlfriend who is worthy of his attention. The snow, especially the Italian alps, has a special place in my heart: there I spent the first and last time my dad actually showed love and care for me — it was almost 15 years ago, but I remember it quite well.

I was only a month away from turning 7, and my father took me with him to Cortina d'Ampezzo, along with the woman he was dating at the time, whom I remember actually liking; she was always kind to me. Her name was Paola — a celebrated Italian model of 26 years of age.