Wild Fiction

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‘Yes, goodbye,’ Genevieve replied. She returned upstairs to find her husband standing naked in front of the bay window watching the departing car.
‘What did they want?’ he asked.
‘They’re selling vacuum cleaners would you believe it.’
‘Did you buy one?’
She smiled at him. ‘I’ve ordered a dozen, you can never have too many vacuum cleaners. Oh and I’m taking the jag out in about half an hour,’ Genevieve said.
‘You can’t, I have a meeting.’
‘Who are you meeting? Your agent?’
‘No… well yes… well sort of…’
Genevieve raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, exactly who are you meeting?’
‘No one important, just someone helping me with my work.’
Genevieve stared long and hard at him before deciding not to pursue it any further.
‘Take the bug,’ she said. ‘I’m taking the jag. It’s more my style than yours.’
He realised it was not up for debate and headed for the shower.
12
Genevieve’s car, a new-shape convertible VW bug, started immediately. The curtains were still drawn when he arrived at the cottage he had rented for Conrad in Possum Lane and he let himself in and switched on the coffee machine. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee spread quickly and he could hear stirrings in the depths of the house.
Rebecca was the first to appear. She was wearing only a T-shirt. Shafts of sunlight broke through a crack in the curtain and reflected on her slender brown legs. She did not notice the author’s stare as she pulled the cords to open the curtains and let the room flood with morning sunshine. He was leaning on the counter that divided the kitchen from the sitting room and watched her every movement. A pot of coffee was in his hand and his mouth was half-open, ready to ask her if she wanted some. Not wanting to disturb the moment and vision of beauty he kept quiet. She bent over the coffee table in the sitting room, straightening the books.
He was expecting her to be wearing underwear. She was not. He lost his grip on the pot of coffee which fell to the counter with a thud. She spun around.
‘You!’ she said backing away towards the far wall. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Who did you think was making the coffee?’

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