62 Days (6 page)

“
I don’t know that it will. I might get all involved with him.”

“
So what? It won’t be a massive heartbreaker when it ends will it? You get to have a quick fling with a hot millionaire. It should be on every girls list of to do’s. Go for it I say.”

I do so love Suze. She has such a way of putting things. All simple and neat and in a box with a bow. I’m thinking I might be up for it now with the wine buzz and her unsubtle persuasion. No relationship expectations. Not thinking any further than Paris. Just a quick and sexy one nighter and a trip up the Eiffel Tower. End of. Yes. Actually looking forward to it now. Especially going up the Eiffel Tower. Maybe even the sex too.

She goes off home at 10pm and I sit on my bed thinking about it all. As I think a message arrives from Mark.

“
Can you get Friday or Monday off? Too much to do in Paris for a one night stay.”

He’s very presumptious. He’s assuming I’m going… and it seems like my quick and sexy has just doubled up. Not sure if that’s a good thing or not at this stage. Still, in for a penny…

“
Friday is better. I’ll let you know.”

“
Also need your full name for ticket.”

“
Rachel Olivia Collins, but you can call me Ray.”

“
Night Ray.”

I climb into bed with a smile on my face. A naughty smile. I actually go off to sleep with it stuck like glue and it’s got nothing to do with the bottle of Rioja I had drunk tonight.

Sitting at work the next day, being granted my Friday off and having told Mark the good news, I am suddenly aware that I have things to do before I can go. I have to dig out my unused new passport, wherever it is… I have to find some suitable outfits and give myself some bodily attention. I book myself in for tomorrow evening at the beauticians. I need to get hottie ready. The full monty. Leg waxing. Bikini line. Eyebrows. Facial. Manicure and pedicure. If I’m going to roll around with a hot millionaire, I need to look the part. I try and forget the fact he’s already seen me almost naked. The next time he sees me I’ll be blindingly perfect and he’ll forget the other me he saw before.

I end up working really late. It’s 7.30pm before I finish the pile of most urgent stuff on my desk. I decide to pop in and see mum and dad on the way home to tell them about my dirty weekend away. Mum is very pleased to see me and gives me a hug on the doorstep. We go in the living room for some tea and biscuits. Dad’s out at his water colour art class.

“
Ray, it’s so nice to see you smiling…” I don’t tell her exactly why I’ve been smiling for a whole day, that’s not mum friendly information.

“
Yeah, I’m off to Paris Friday… I’m looking forward to it.” I crunch my biscuit noisily. I’m really hungry. Might get a Chinese meal to take home. Haven’t had one for months.

“
Really? Who are you going there with?”

“
The good looking property millionaire I mentioned before.”

“
Ha ha… you’re a one. Seriously though, is it a friend or a boyfriend you’re going with?”

“
It’s a friend mum, a very good friend.” Of the male variety, but I’ll keep it all vague for now.

She still doesn’t believe her daughter could attract a millionaire. Nor do I. Low self esteem. Actually no self esteem.

As I lay in the beauticians being tortured on Wednesday evening I wonder if the sex I might get is going to be worth the pain I am now feeling. I have never had a wax in my life and never will again. I hope Mark appreciates my smoothness because it is about as painful as burning myself all over with an iron. I flinch as the each strip of cooled wax is ripped off my protesting tender flesh. I try not to cry out in agony. Giving birth couldn’t be more painful than this, surely? Why can’t hairy legs be sexy? They haven’t even got round to the bikini line yet. I shudder at the thought and bite my tongue for some pain diversion.

Thankfully the manicures and facial which followed the ultimate torture session are blissful and I float away in a handy, facey haze as they massage and primp and pamper. The eyebrow waxing and tidying is a walk in the park compared to what went on around the bikini line a few minutes ago.

I never knew I could squeal so loudly.

I’m sitting perched on my ‘waiting for Mark’ spot by the window at 7am Friday morning. He arrives and I’m summoned by text and downstairs I go. No going back now. This is it, the start of Rachel Collins’ naughty French experience. He takes my bag from me and I get in the car. I can’t help but notice that he is looking even hotter today. It must be the ‘don’t give a toss’ scruffed up jeans and black t-shirt look, I’ve always liked that kind of thing on men. He gets in and we take another look at each other. I really can’t deny it any longer. Mark is sensual with a capital S. He oozes sex appeal from every pore of his body and right now it’s oozing my way.

“
Got everything?” He asks finally.

“
Yep, passport, toothbrush. What more do I need?”

“
Your bag was rather heavy for a passport and toothbrush.”

“
Ah well, wasn’t sure of weather and going out… had to bring a few choices.”

“
Half your wardrobe more like.” He gives me a very sexy grin and a little eye flash. That got my wave on a gentle roll.

We set off in a mutual smiley mood.

“
We’re leaving London at 10am, so should be there at 2.00pm local time. We can drop our things off and still have time to do a few things after that.”

“
Okay… I suppose you’ve been before?”

“
Several times.”

Oh, I see… He’s a serial dirty weekender is he? Well, of course he would be, wouldn’t he… being more than a little gorgeous looking and extremely loaded… why not? I try not to let this fact influence my enjoyment factor. This is a first for me. I’ll pretend it’s a first for him as well.

Our arrival at the Eurostar terminal set the theme for the whole weekend. We parked the car and made our way inside St Pancras station. We avoided the long check in queue snaking its way across the concourse and were dealt with in two minutes flat at the empty Eurostar business premier desk. After that we went through security and passport control into our separate premier lounge to wait for the train. Mark took me upstairs where it’s nice and quiet and there we sat for a while. We were then asked very nicely if we would like to board the train. Well, I could get quite used to this lifestyle. Shame it’s just the three days in my life. I’m sure the usual travelling abroad process is not as wonderful as this is turning out to be. I send Suze a quick text to tell her I’m Princess Premier Class today. She tells me not to wind her up whilst she’s busy doing nothing at work.

The Eurostar itself was a lovely experience, being waited on with a little meal and champagne as we whizz along at 186 mph. I give Mark big smiles of appreciation. I can tell he is pleased that I’m pleased. He has a little glowy going on. I give a small cheer as we emerge from the channel tunnel and into France. After 25 years I have finally left the UK for the first time.

I notice Mark turn his phone off. “Do you get a lot of calls about work and things?” I ask curiously.

“
Not on this phone. It’s my personal one. Roni’s got my business one.”

“
Roni?”

“
Veronica, my secretary. She deals with all my work calls whilst I’m away. If there’s anything she can’t deal with she calls me. Very rarely though. She knows I don’t like to be disturbed when I’m taking a break.”

“
Is it difficult being you Mark?” I can imagine he has a lot of stress and pressure running a company. With wealth comes great responsibility.

“
Sometimes it can be more than a little taxing to be truthful.”

I’m guessing that’s an understatement in reality. I suddenly feel very privileged that he has taken a day out of his stressed executive schedule to whisk me off to Paris.

We get off the train nearly three hours later with our bags and we’re through the Paris terminus and out looking for a taxi. In thirty minutes we are dropped off outside our Champs Elysee hotel.

Actually no, not a hotel at all… palace is a more apt description. We are led inside our room by the ‘porteur’ and I’m literally stunned by what I see. I really do feel like Marie Antoinette in her boudoir as I take a good look around. Silvery grey and pale blue striped satin walls and drapes. Massive matching bed. Beautiful glass chandeliers. Huge midnight blue velvet sofas. Separate his and hers bathrooms. I just can’t believe the red rose petals artfully arranged all round the edge of the bath. It’s a huge suite… in an expensive hotel. It must have cost an absolute fortune.

“
Christ almighty Mark, you don’t do Paris on a budget do you?”

“
I wanted to make your first trip abroad special for you.”

“
You’ve certainly done that… you’ve spoilt me for life. It’s beautiful. Completely fantastic.” I flop back on the massive striped bed and smile up at him happily.

“
Come on, I’m starving, let’s go out for coffee and cake shall we?”

Mark likes his food I’ve discovered…

***

An hour later we are fed and watered and wandering along the banks of the Seine. I still can’t quite believe I’m here, let alone with him. I keep pinching myself. His hand finds mine and I happily hold it tight. Could things ever get any better? Wandering around in the sun hand in hand with my not so platonic extremely good looking friend who I am going to sleep with later. Who would have thought my life would have turned around so fast in a few short days.

Thank God I went to his party, got drunk and fell on him.

The afternoon was a very lovely warm and lazy ramble around, a short boat trip up the Seine and finally a taxi ride to the Eiffel Tower. And what a long, long, queue there is. It seems like everyone in the whole world wants to go up it this afternoon. Mark tells me it’s always this bad. We climb the second leg and wait another long time to access the elevator to the top. As we finally go outside I am stunned by the view, and also by the wind which whips around us like a hurricane. I gingerly make my way out to look around. I don’t like heights. God knows why I’m hundreds of feet up here… thankfully I do get my Tower legs after a while and stop feeling wobbly inside and actually start to enjoy it.

My long hair is driving me mad flying around me in the wind as I am trying to take photos on my phone. I desperately try to control it. Mark stands behind me, gathers up my hair tornado and holds it for me. I walk around up the top for quite a while admiring the view and taking photos, with Mark holding my hair. Before we go I take a quick handsome hottie photo with a nice view behind and send it to mum and Suze with the message… Mark up Eiffel Tower… That should liven up their day.

We finally come down from windy high heaven and head back to the hotel for a rest before dinner. He is being very sweet and non pushy. I am enjoying this. A lot. Maybe too much. As we lay down on the bed together I take a look at him and start to get a strange knot form in my stomach. I am not sure what it is. I don’t want to think about it. I stop looking.

He suddenly leans up and looks down at me.

“W
hy was your last relationship difficult and unhealthy?”

He certainly sprung that one on me. Does he remember every single word I tell him?

“
Well, let’s just say he dominated me.”

“
Really? How badly?”

“
Completely in every sense. He destroyed the real me.”

“
Was he abusive towards you?”

“
Not physically no, just verbally. A lot of it was very subtle in fact. And I never really pushed him, so I don’t know what he was capable of.”

“
Why did you let him do it Ray?”

“
I didn’t know he
was
doing it. It happened so gradually. He was just very possessive to start with. I honestly didn’t realise
.”

I held my breath as he ran his fingers down my face, down my neck and down to the low V of my top, his eyes following them. Then he laid back down on his side again silently, looking at me. I’m feeling hot all over.

He closed his eyes with his arm draped around my waist and we both end up falling asleep for a while.

***

I think I’m dreaming but I’m not… I really am being kissed awake. Several times. And what a pleasant experience it is. My mouth curls up in a little smile and I open my eyes.

He is leaning up on his elbow, his face just above mine. “So, for dinner tonight… what type of thing would you like to eat?”