STEPS

CHAPTER NINE The Prince

Two days later, I sat opposite him in an up-market restaurant on the top floor of the tallest city building. Seeing again the blue eyes contrasting his dark hair, noticing the few grey strands at his temples... That word again, as waiters hovered and ridiculously expensive Champagne flowed. Commanding.

Hours later, dancing close at a private nightclub, I had morphed into a new self, a being exulted, courted, in turn enthralled by his unwavering admiration. Maybe too much alcohol, maybe the romance of those early moments, maybe - who the hell knows... I was no longer fascinated, I was captivated. Ensnared by his charming smile, held fast by his confidence, secured by the ease presented in his every gesture.

Later still, the casual arm-in-arm walk to a Grand Hotel. Following him without pausing at reception to a suite on a high floor - overlooking other tall office buildings and beyond them, the lit-up snaking avenues and freeways to the suburbs. Standing at the window; noting the absence of a latch. The Prince pouring yet more champagne, his movements smooth, assured.

"Come; sit by me on the couch."

A bowl of strawberries, another heaped with walnut halves; a smaller dish with honey and a silver spoon, placed there before our arrival. I paced. The alcohol already consumed should have worked its magic yet I couldn't shift my focus away from the low table, the sweet offerings. His assumptions?

"Is something wrong?"

The single tear evolved into sobs, an inability to contain the anguish building since I'd crossed the threshold of that suite. A quick, premeditated fuck.That's all this fairy-tale held for me. The disappointment crushing; the old mistrust rearing again, breathing fiery regret over the present moments.

"I'm sorry. I've upset you." He approached, offering an embrace I refused to enter.

"You do this often then?" I paced some more, moving away from him, seeking a place to breathe. The wall of windows without latches inducing more panic. "What? You think I'm that fucking casual, dinner dancing and sex? Wow."

"I'm sorry," he offered again. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

On the longer walk back to my apartment he tried to explain. His expectations not particular to me, rather the way these nights evolved for him; other women aware of the process, accepting the eventuality.

"I'm not them!" I yelled! My voice loud and echoing in the pre-dawn silence of the empty lane way. "You assumed?"

"You looked unhappy."

I struggled with that statement, partly because it was true, more so because he saw through my disguising it.

"Did that make me available?"

"I'm sorry." All he could repeat. I doubted his sincerity. I hated my vulnerability.

"So am I."

I entered my building without a backward glance. Rode the tight elevator, entered the minute apartment with no opening windows practicing deep breaths, but unable to reach the satisfying feeling of my lungs full, bursting. My husband asleep and unaware as always...

What had I done? Blaming the alcohol, I paced the confined space. Sat on the sofa and stood and sat again, not able to settle. The dawn light found me upright, agitated. I had entered ever so briefly, a young girl's fairy-tale. Those magical few hours wined and dined and held in the arms of a Prince. Never suspecting it was role-play, standard procedure for a fuck. What? I'd expected a different ending? This was the world now, the barter system entrenched. Powerful men, women attracted, the end always tangled in hotel room sheets. No fairy-tales left.