by Alex Tryst

Dedications: To Rosa for being a great editor on this piece. It wouldn't be what it is without you. Next (but certainly most important), to my wife, you are my fondest wish. And to my inspiration, my favorite Valentine's presents of all time courtesy of my truest love (Thanks, honey!), my Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues. This is the point in which you all call me a womanizing mongrel and figuratively slap me upside the head like my wife does at all my drooling over babes in bikinis, but I have to believe (or have wishful thinking) that there is far more to these women than what is on the page. In my mind, this story is about just that, what more they could possibly be. Enjoy!

Feedback: Drop me a line if you’d like at alextryst@e-scribblers.com.

Now on with the show...

Copyright © 2005 by Alex Tryst. All Rights Reserved.

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You had indulged me in my quest, giving me time to myself away from you and our daughter. I knew you thought our private paradise was amazing as well, but wonderful locations such as the one we now occupied were commonplace for you. After all, you were flown to exotic locations all the time for work. Nevertheless, I knew you appreciated the serenity this place afforded us.

It had been a frenzy for the last two years when you, the face of fashion, had been outed by the media with some racy photos of the two of us when we had thought we had been alone. However, you had handled it with the grace and style you did the rest of your life. You publicly admitted that your personal life was not up for speculation but that we were indeed a couple, a move that stunned many. Even more, you made it known that we were to be married, which had made my life complete, for it was all I had ever fantasized about since meeting you four years ago this week. I remember it well, the day we met.

I was walking through the streets of Venice, pondering ideas for the paper I was writing for an art history magazine. I had just left my hotel in search of yet another museum when I saw you across the street. There you were with a flurry of people and activity around you. At the time I had no idea who you were, having lived most of my adult life so far lost in books, so I didn't have to face the reality of not having a life of my own. Sometimes I overheard my students commenting on that very subject when they thought I wasn't around. It was always the same, how attractive I could have been if I had social skills, but I had none to share, or at least no one I felt interesting enough to share them with until I saw you.

There you were standing in the square, leaning against the fountain. You were wearing heavy winter garments, even though it was summer, but it was obvious you were part of a photo shoot in progress as there were other models dressed similarly milling around waiting. Not in a hurry to be anywhere, I merely drew closer and watched. My mind observed as you struck several poses, and I couldn't help but think of how you looked like a statue, standing there perfectly still. Wanting to capture the thought, I dug out my own camera from my bag and snapped a photograph. As soon as I did though, I felt your eyes seek me out under the brim of that winter hat you were wearing. As our eyes locked, I couldn't tell what your thoughts were, but the seriousness of your face made me wonder if you were displeased with what I had just done.

Deciding I didn't want to wait around to find out, I headed down the block to a café where I wanted to eat breakfast. I had just been delivered my coffee and meal when I felt a presence shadow over me. Looking up, I saw a burly man dressed in dark clothes staring down at me in disapproval. "Are you the one that took a picture of Miss Mueller?" he gruffly inquired in perfect English.

"Who?" I asked in confusion.

"Jana Mueller," he repeated.

"I'm sorry. I don't know who that is," I answered honestly, although I had a suspicion it was the model I had just photographed.

Just then from behind the bulk of a man, I heard a sultry voice say, "Me."

Peering around the strange man, I saw you standing there. You were no longer in winter clothes but a pair of linen trousers and cream silk blouse. "Oh, you? I'm sorry. I didn't know your name."

Your eyes left mine and went to the man still imposing himself on my table. "Franc, I can handle this," you said to which he gave a nod. With a glare for me, he exited the café, leaving you standing there.

Not knowing what to say, I said the first thing that came to mind. Gesturing to the chair across from me, I asked, "Would you like to sit?"

That seemed to catch you off-guard for some reason. Unsure of yourself, you replied, "Thank you." Taking a seat across from me, you inquired, "Why did you take a picture of me? That is quite rude, you know, photographing people without their permission."

"I'm really sorry about that, ma'am," I apologized, looking deeply into brown eyes. "You just inspired me, and I had to capture that moment before it was lost. I really didn't mean to offend you."

Intrigued you inquired, "Inspired you? How?"

"Well, I'm here on sabbatical doing research on an art history essay. I was pondering what approach to take, thinking sculpture might be the best topic, and then I saw you across the street. I was fascinated, because you seemed so fluid in your motion, and then you would just freeze momentarily, like a statue. I just found that interesting and wanted to be reminded of it when I was writing. That's why I took the picture. Truly, I meant no offense."

You cracked a smile. "Do you know who I am?" you questioned.

I shook my head. "Sorry. Maybe I should. It's obvious you're someone important enough to have a bodyguard, but I can't say that I know of you."

With another grin, you answered, "No harm done then. Tell me. What's your name?"

"Cameron. Cameron Grant," I responded, extending my hand.

"Jana Mueller. Nice to meet you, Cameron."

"You too. Again I'm sorry about the misunderstanding. I didn't realize Europeans had a thing about being photographed without permission."

"What makes you think I'm European?"

"You look like a German girl through and through to me. Your name also sort of implies that."

You laughed, causing your whole face to light up as you did so. Shaking your long gorgeous mane of white blonde hair, you said, "Well, I suppose you are right about that. I've been living in New York since I was eighteen though, so that feels like home to me now. Where are you from?"

"Actually I also reside in New York City. I'm a professor at NYU in art history, but I grew up in the South. Texas was home for most of my childhood."

"I thought so. No one says ma'am in New York. And by the way, please don't ever call me that again."

Feeling safe to tease, I cracked a smile of my own as I answered, "Yes, ma'am." I got a sudden punch in the arm for the comment, causing me to laugh. "Could I buy you a cup of coffee, Jana? It's the least I could do for upsetting you."

"That's sweet of you, but I actually have to get back. Some other time maybe."

"Anytime," I said as she stood. I did the same to be polite.

Looking at me, you paused as if contemplating something. "Cameron, I'm only in town until the morning, but would you like to have dinner with me tonight? I hate to think of you here by yourself."

"Oh, I'm used to being alone. It doesn't bother me." Seeing your lovely smile falter, I wasn't sure what I had said wrong.

"All right. I guess I should go. It was nice meeting you."

As you turned your back to me, I realized what I had just done. I had just declined an invitation to dinner from the most stunning woman I had ever met. Mentally I hit myself in the head but quickly found my voice to try to correct my mistake. "Jana, wait a second. You know, as much as I am used to being alone, it would be nice to have some company for once. I would love to have dinner with you."

The brilliant smile that graced your face made me sure that I had made the right decision. "Great. I'm so glad. Say seven?"

"Sounds wonderful."

"Good. Just give me the name of your hotel. My bodyguard Franc will come and get you." Pulling a slip of paper from my bag, I wrote down my information and handed it to you. You smiled again. "Great. He'll meet you in the lobby."

"I look forward to it, Jana."

As I stepped out of the water onto the beach, sand clung to my feet and toes. However, my sights were set on you, lounging in a chaise. You looked so enticing, my sun goddess in all your golden glory. You were dressed in a tiny suit bottom with the strings untied, so your tan line would be minimized but nothing else. I was extremely glad for our privacy. Even though you were not shy about your body, I was skittish about being intimate with you out in the open after pictures of the two of us had circulated in the public domain. In this place though, I knew we were alone in our solitude. We had rented all the bungalows on the strip to ensure we would not have observers, and the hotel had been accommodating enough to put up a temporary fence along a section of the beach for us. Moving to your chair, I paused at the foot of it. With your sunglasses hiding your eyes, I wasn't sure if you were awake or asleep, but the smile you gave me proved that you were indeed aware of my presence.

"Hello, lover," you cooed. "Aren't you a sight?"

I self-consciously crossed my arms over my naked chest. Unlike you, I had more sense of modesty when it came to my body, and I already felt exposed without a top. "Hello, my dearest. Where's Lily?"

You cracked a smile. "Franc offered to take her for the whole day, so we could have time alone. He was going to take her on some of the hotel's activities."

I laughed at the thought of your bodyguard, so rough in appearance, with our young daughter. I bet they were a sight together. Our bouncing baby girl astride Franc's broad shoulders as was her favorite spot when he was around. For all his foreboding presence, he was a gentle soul with a soft place in his heart for our little Lily. "Well, at least they both can have a little fun."

"And so can we," you said. "Come lie with me." I slowly moved onto the lounge chair with you. You turned on your side, so you could curl up into me. Our bare breasts pressed together, and the bottom of your suit fell away as you hooked your leg around mine. Kissing my chest, you asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"Actually I was thinking about the day we met. It's the four year anniversary, you know."

"You mean it's the day you refused me for a date," you joked. "Did you know that was the only time that has ever happened to me?"

"I believe it, but I was too dense to recognize that you were asking me out. What would a young woman like you want with an old studious bookworm like me anyway?" I asked playfully.

"Well, truthfully I didn't think you were as old as you were. I never would have guessed there was ten years between us. You looked much younger, still do."

That evening I sat in the lobby of my hotel waiting on Franc. Even though I now knew he was only trying to protect you, I was not thrilled that he was going to be my escort. Nevertheless, I figured you had your reasons for having him fetch me. While I waited on him, I read the latest textbook I was considering using in my class the next semester. I was so engrossed in it though, that I hardly realized I was being watched at first. Although after a few minutes, I felt that threatening presence near me and looked up.

"Professor Grant," he greeted seriously. "If you would come with me."

Slipping off my reading glasses, I placed them in the front pocket of my shirt and then closed my book. I followed him outside to the awaiting car. Neither of us spoke as he opened the door for me. Silently we drove through the streets until we came to another hotel, much grander than the one I inhabited. Without a word Franc walked me inside and then took me through a series of complicated hallways and finally to a secluded elevator that we took to the top floor. He then proceeded to escort me into a suite and left me in the living room area.

Minutes passed and then I heard your voice behind me. "Good evening, Cameron."

Turning I smiled at you. "Jana, hi," I said, curling my book more tightly to my chest. I suddenly felt nervous at the sight of you. You were wearing a short summer dress that revealed more than I felt comfortable, for it made me think thoughts inappropriate to have of a stranger. Nevertheless, I tried to push them aside.

Crossing the room to me, you put your hand on my forearm. "They have already brought up dinner. Let's go into the dining room. Tell me how your day was."

"It was nice. I actually got a lot accomplished. What about you?"

"Me too. Although that shoot was much longer than it needed to be."

I waited until you were seated before taking my own near you. I placed my book on the table. "Well, thank you again for having me to dinner. This was an unexpected surprise."

"I'm glad for the company. What are you reading?"

"Oh, I was just reading this textbook to see if it was suitable for next semester. The only thing more boring than bad lesson plans is a bad textbook with which they are written. I was hoping to bring some modern art discussion into my lessons next semester. Although I have to admit, the best modern art I have come across was today seeing you at that photo shoot. It really has stirred my interest. I think I might do a discussion on that actually. Maybe I can arrange for my class to see a shoot even."

"Well, you could always bring them to one of mine. I wouldn't mind at all."

"I appreciate that. We'll see how it goes. It's just an idea right now."

"Well, tell me about you, Cameron. How did you get to be a professor at NYU?"

I shrugged, running my hand through my shoulder length brown hair. "Oh, I've always loved art and history. Fortunately I had a professor who took me under his wing and showed me the beauty of combining my passions. From there I went on to graduate school and got my Masters and then Doctorate in the discipline. It afforded me an opportunity to travel Europe several times, and I started teaching at NYU, because I found that I wanted to pass that passion onto others."

Flashing an adorable smile, you touched my hand. "So, it's actually Dr. Grant then?"

"Yes but only my students call me that."

"You are quite accomplished for being so young," you mentioned.

"I'm not that young. I'm thirty-six."

"Are you really? I can hardly believe it. I didn't think you were over thirty," you complimented. "You're in incredible shape."

I smiled. "Well, thank you. I work out quite a bit, but I'm nothing compared to you. You are stunning," I confessed, sensing that you were reluctant to let go of my hand. Flattered by the attention, I put my other hand on top of yours. "May I ask how old you are, Jana?"

"Twenty-six."

"Really? You seem so worldly and sophisticated beyond your years."

"Well, I've been modeling for a long time, ten years actually with no sign of stopping."

"Do you enjoy it?"

Brown eyes sparkled brightly. "I love it. I've gotten to travel the world and wear clothes most only dream about. I've lived a privileged life, but it can be hard work. Sometimes the days can be truly long. Today for example, I was awakened at three thirty in the morning for hair and makeup, because the photographer wanted to use morning light."

"You must be exhausted. I shouldn't be here. You should be sleeping."

You shook your head. "It's all right. I'll sleep on the plane tomorrow. You're much more fun than being curled up alone in bed."

"Is there someone you miss in particular when you're away?"

You shook your head. "Just my dog. He's my baby. I don't have much time for dating or anything. What about you?"

I laughed lightly and slowly pulled away from your touch at the subject. "I don't have anyone either, not even a pet. Books have been my life for so long that I don't know any differently. It's probably for the best, though. I'm not sure I would make a good girlfriend or spouse to any woman. My last girlfriend complained I spent too much time with my head in the books." Seeing the look on your face, I thought I may have offended you. "Jana, have I said something wrong?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"You just looked shocked. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I'm not uncomfortable. I am surprised but pleased too."

"Pleased?"

You nodded. "Yeah, pleased that I can still read people that well. I don't get to meet a lot of real people in my line of work, and when I met you I thought maybe you were a lesbian. I just feel pleased that I haven't lost my touch for reading people."

"So, you're fine with that?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I have gay friends and employees. Franc is a perfect example."

"Franc? Your bodyguard is gay?"

"As the day is long. You never would have guessed that though, would you?"

"Not at all. He's so... he's so butch," I joked.

"He's paid to be. On the inside he's a teddy bear."

"I'll believe that when I see it."

For the next several hours the two of us chatted easily about life as we dined. As tired as I could see you were, you refused to let me go, so our conversation lasted long into the night. Finally I bid you a goodnight with a promise to meet with you again in New York upon my return at the end of the summer. It was only upon getting back to my hotel that I realized I had left my textbook on your table.

The following morning I was awakened by the front desk telling me I had a package. I dressed leisurely and then went down to retrieve it. When they handed it to me, it was wrapped in brown parcel paper with feminine script across the front stating it was from you. I figured it was just my book, so I stuffed it into my bag before heading out for the day. It was only after getting to my usual café for breakfast that I unwrapped it. Sure enough it was my book, but I noticed a piece of paper sticking out from under the cover. Curiously I opened it, surprised to find a black and white photograph of you, my hostess from the night previous, dressed in a revealing bikini lying provocatively on a beach. Across the top left corner there was the inscription, "To the beautiful Dr. Grant. For inspiration. Hugs and kisses, Jana Mueller." Behind it was a short note expressing thanks for my company and contact information.

You chuckled at my recollection of that event as you clung tighter to my naked torso. "I remember that night clearly," you admitted. "It took all my willpower not to throw myself at you. I was so turned on by your intelligence and wit, not to mention your beauty. From that moment I knew I was going to fall hard for you," you said. "And I did. The whole rest of the summer I thought about you constantly."

"I know. That seemed like the longest sabbatical ever. I could hardly work. I kept that photograph of you next to my bed, and I stared at it every night as I fell asleep. I couldn't believe I was falling for you, a woman I hardly knew. For the rest of the summer, I spent time online surfing for any information I could find on you. I had no idea what a celebrity you were at first. Then it sort of became overwhelming. All those photographs and articles on you. I sort of got discouraged, because I thought I was going to get back, and you would have forgotten all about me."

"Not a chance. In fact, it was me that was discouraged when you didn't call. I thought I had blown my chances by being too forward with that photograph."

I laughed. "Funny because I had no clue you were trying to hit on me. I was so dense. It never even crossed my mind. I just thought you were trying to be friendly, and I felt bad, because I had developed a crush on someone I thought I could never have. I figured it was just better not to call and make it that much worse for myself."

"Good thing I was persistent then, wasn't it?" you teased.

It was October, and I had been back from Venice for six weeks. As I sat working on my essay for the art magazine, my eyes wandered to the photographs I had placed discreetly on my desk. They were of you, one that I took, the other the one you gave me. They were hidden mostly by books and papers making it almost impossible for my students to see them if they happened by my office but letting me have a clear view from how I sat in my chair.

Not a day had passed that I had not thought of you. In fact, you constantly plagued my thoughts at every possible free moment. I sighed to myself as I tried to resign myself to the fact our brief time together in Italy had been a fluke, but I was having a hard time letting go of the image of you in that summer dress the night we had dinner.

Distracted by my thoughts, I stared into the photograph I had taken of you, and it wasn't until I heard a knock on my mostly open office door that I came back to reality. "Dr. Grant," a familiar feminine voice called.

My eyes flitted up over the top of my reading glasses. Seeing you standing there though, I jumped to my feet and ripped them off my face. "Jana, hi. What are you doing here?" I stammered, quickly stuffing my glasses in the pocket of my shirt. Nervously I ran my hands over my clothes, straightening them.

"I was just in the neighborhood, so I thought I'd drop by. Is that okay?"

"Yeah. Sure. Come on in. Have a seat. Can I get you something? Coffee, water, soda?"

"No thanks," you answered, taking a seat in one of the two chairs. You patted the empty seat next to you. "Come sit and talk to me."

I did as you requested, taking the chair next to you instead of the one behind my desk. My eyes floated over my messy desk for a moment, making sure the pictures of you could not be seen. "So, how are you?" I inquired, not knowing exactly what to say.

"I'm good. How are you?"

"Fine. Busy with school of course. My students are always a challenge, and I'm still working on that composition for that magazine. I'm almost finished with it." You nodded. I could tell you were also nervous, which I found intriguing. "So, where's Franc?"

"He's outside in the hallway. I thought you might rather see me without him, but I can bring him in here if you want."

"No, that's fine. I was just curious." I paused for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. Finally I said, "Look. I'm sorry I haven't called. I just figured you were busy."

"Well, I am busy, but I thought we were going to have that coffee you promised me in Venice."

"If you still want to."

"I do. Otherwise I wouldn't be here, Cameron."

"Right. Of course," I mumbled, wanting to slap myself for the inane comment. My own fortitude was faltering in your presence. Checking my watch, I noticed I didn't have much time before class. "Well, I'd love to take you now, but I have class in half an hour. I'm not sure we could get there and back in that much time."

You shook your head. "I can't even get down the block that fast sometimes. It's probably best we don't try it."

"Well, what about afterwards? My class is only an hour and a half."

"I can't stay that long. I'm supposed to be giving an interview later today. In fact, I was on my way there, but I decided to stop by on the chance you were here first." Your hand reached out and touched mine.

"I'm glad you did, Jana. How about this then? What about dinner tonight?"

"That would be nice. My place?"

"I can cook. In fact, I'd like to cook for you."

"That's sweet of you, but I'm on a strict diet. Better to let my chef make my meals."

"You have a chef?"

"She likes to think of herself as a dietician more than a chef, but yes, I do. My career is based on my looks. I can't go around eating anything I want whenever I want it."

"I suppose that's true. What if she were to tell me what to make? I'll make it for us."

"You would do that?"

"Sure. I'd like to have you over for dinner. If that's what it takes to get you there, I'll do it."

"And you promise not to cheat on the directions?"

"No cheating, I promise," I pledged with a smile.

"All right then. I'd love to have dinner with you. How do I get to your place?"

For the rest of the day, I could hardly concentrate on what I was doing. Instead my mind was on dinner, hoping it would turn out well. As you had promised, your chef had faxed me the instructions for your meal, which I found more complicated than I wanted to admit. Nevertheless, I promised to do it, and I was determined to make it happen.

Rushing home after work, I made an effort to clean my place as fast as I could, stacking up the books and papers into neat piles in my library and throwing all the odds and ends into my bedroom. Then I started on dinner, which I was still making when you arrived. That evening you were wearing a pair of tight jeans, leaving little to the imagination and a casual red sweater. Your feet were adorned with a stylish pair of boots. I hadn't bothered to change from work and felt a little strange in my pressed slacks and blue oxford. However, you smiled brightly and told me how good I looked.

"You look nice too," I replied as my stomach fluttered. I couldn't believe I was reacting the way I was. Taking a deep breath to gain some control, I offered, "Would you like something to drink? I have wine."

"That sounds nice. Thank you, Cameron."

Gesturing toward the kitchen, I said, "I'm still cooking, but it's almost ready. Why don't you just have a seat here, and I'll bring you your wine?"

"Is there anything I can do to help?" I shrugged, not wanting to admit that I could use a hand, but you took that as an invitation and headed toward the kitchen on your own accord. You chuckled upon entering. "You don't cook much, do you?" you teased, seeing the mess I had made.

"Can't say that I do, Jana, but I thought it would be nice for a change."

"Well, I'll tell you what. Why don't I set the table and then help you with this food? I know a thing or two about cooking."

The smile you gave me made my knees weak, but I managed to nod my head. Standing at the stove, my eyes subtly watched what you were doing. I couldn't believe you were there in my home, my modest abode. I hadn't had any woman there in quite some time, and I never imagined the likes of a woman of your caliber not only in my apartment but also eagerly assisting me with a meal for the two of us. It was at that moment in which I realized everything I had learned about you through our time apart was not accurate. No one truly knew the real you, for you were not as you appeared to the public. Instead I realized the real Jana Mueller was standing in my home, seemingly content with your domestic task.

Continued in Part 2

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