Fancy Love

Fancy Love: Part 5

Ailec was in Ailec-heaven. It was a Saturday evening. She’d procured a drinkable house red, a very good book and a comfy, semi-private place to call her own, at least for the next couple of hours. She was ensconced in a small bar, hidden at the back of one of the city’s many alley ways. But what made this bar special, at least to Ailec, were the rows and rows of books available for perusal, neatly packed into shelves at the back of the shop.

She stretched one leg out, bare foot landing to rest on the foot stool, the other still curled beneath her. She’d fallen in love with the place the first time she’d discovered it, torn between telling everyone in the world about her wondrous sanctuary and keeping it her jealously guarded secret. She’d struck a balance, deciding the owner would appreciate the extra patronage, and told only people she believed deserved the privilege.

Tilting her head back, she closed her eyes, a second bare foot joined its pair on the foot stool. She yawned while arching her stiff back, book lying open on her lap, forgotten. She deposited her reading glasses over the book’s spine, and swept a lazy gaze around the room, starting at her far right, running over the comfortable couches and coffee tables, most occupied by this time on a Saturday evening. At the end of her contented sweep, she stopped abruptly, eyes widening.

With some effort she refrained from shaking herself, and instead, lowered her arms and closed her mouth, which had been left hanging slightly open after her yawn.

“Hi Ailec,”a voice drawled, it was low and soft, but clearly heard above the jazz playing over the speakers.

Tugging her t-shirt down, which had crawled its way up her mid section, she shifted herself back in the couch, bare feet hitting the ground with a soft thud. She looked up, amused brown eyes meeting hers, taking it all in. “Hi.” Her voice sounded stiff, bordering on impolite, even to herself.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Carmen Roberts looked as striking as ever, if slightly less formal out of her business attire. She wore designer jeans, fitting snugly over hips and thighs before loosening over long legs, artificially faded in all the right places. Her t-shirt was that perfect cut reserved by high-end brands, and a pair of sunglasses perched on top of her head, holding back glossy dark locks.

Ailec glanced around, trying not to make it obvious that she was checking up on other seating options. She spied a free table in the far corner, and weighed the likelihood of the billionaire missing it. She finally shrugged, and said, “Knock yourself out.”

“I’m not intruding?”

Truth be told, she was intruding, although Ailec felt like an idiot for feeling that way. She’d been caught in a private moment by the woman, feeling like she was hidden to the world and could watch the goings on at her leisure. To be rudely brought back to reality, after basking for hours in her perceived privacy, had her still feeling the bump of the landing. “Not at all,” she said in a tone, she hoped, veiled her thoughts.

Stepping past Ailec, Carmen took the other side of the couch, leaning back and crossing one denim-clad leg over the other. “I thought they’d given up on you for a minute there,” she said, dead-pan, a tilt of her chin indicating Ailec’s cons, which were neatly pushed under the coffee table.

Ailec looked at her cons, then back at Carmen whose brown eyes were twinkling mischievously, then down at her bare feet. “Uh,” she said, beginning to think that was all she was capable of around this woman.

“Sorry,” Carmen said quickly, “I shouldn’t be so forward.”

“It’s fine,” Ailec said, forcing a smile, “It was just... unexpected.”

“I get that a lot,” she returned the smile, with a brief flash of white teeth, “So...” she began slowly, with an air of starting the conversation over, “Nice to run into you again. What is it you do with yourself?”