The Letter

Chapter 9

I stood outside on the street with my bags feeling a little like a homeless person. I'd just had one of the most unsuccessful conversations of my life trying to arrange a taxi. And after what felt like a tragic game of Pictionary combined with charades, during which I'd been reduced to making loud 'vrooming' noises and miming a steering wheel, I called it a day.

I surveyed my surroundings and sneezed. Had it been daytime when I'd arrived, I may have noticed the subtle clues that indicated that this was the absolute wrong place to stay. Two flowerpots flanked the door, both containing the brown, dead remnants of the flora that had once occupied them. One of them also looked like it was frequented rather often by the local cat and also used to dispose of beer cans..,I sneezed again. Why were there so many cats here?

Luxury Aegean Villa's. Luxury. The only luxury here was that I'd left with my life intact.

I took stock of my situation. Now what?

"If you ever need anything, here's my card."

His chiseled face pushed it's way into my brain once more and I could almost hear his business card whispering to me,

"Call me, call me now and then have sex with me."

Urg. The last thing I wanted to do was phone Zoolandimitri, yes, I'd thought of that rather terrible nickname whilst teetering on the brink of sleep last night somewhere between the time he'd kissed me on the neck and whipped my bra off. OK, fine, I'd had another sex dream.

"Call me. Sex. Phone sex. Let's have it....Now."

His card whispered a little louder. I huffed a very audible resigned sigh as I started to reluctantly fish the thing out of my bag.

I took a moment to study the card. The arrogant thing! The back of the card was perfectly normal; name, address, basic info. But the front of the card...

Was it really necessary to have his face plastered across the front of the card? And with that big, cheesy self-satisfied grin? It was the grin of an estate agent trying to sell you four-bedroomed happiness, except he was trying to sell you sex in all four bedrooms and then bent over the balcony rail too...possibly the shower, perhaps even up against the freshly painted walls and the ....

My mind began to conjure up images of him showing me around the granite topped Jamie Oliver kitchen and then fucking me al fresco.

Stop it! God, I had to snap out of this.

I dialed Zoomitri's number (That nickname works a little better?) I really didn't want to see him right now, or ever, especially after the bluntly horrified way he'd looked at me and rushed off last night. (Was there some weird mythology-slash-superstition about different-coloured eyes here? Remind me to Google that.)

"Dimitri Spiros." His voice sounded husky and terribly dreamy.

"Hi... it's a..."

"Jane. I was just thinking about you."

"You were?" I forced down the bubble that had risen up from my stomach. Fucking hell, I hated myself for having this illogical reaction to him, especially because I didn't like him.

"No. I don't like him." A loud voice shouted inside my brain.

"Oh yes you do!" Another part of my body replied seductively.

"You're wrong!" The voice in my logical brain screeched back defensively.

"Well I wouldn't be feeling all tingly if you didn't." It cooed.