Next Charles served lunch. It bore a striking resemblance to her everyday lunches in Iowa. Claire knew that there were restaurants with various delicious foods just an elevator ride away. Her appetite disappeared, and she settled onto the sofa in the living room with a book. Between the stunning view and the undeniable yearning to be in the city, she had difficulty concentrating. Finally, at four thirty, Charles informed her that Mr. Rawlings called. They had dinner reservations for six and tickets to the theater, the eight thirty showing of “Wicked.”
As she prepared for the evening, Claire opened her garment bag to a Nicole Miller taupe strapless dress with sequins. She’d never seen the dress before, but of course it would fit perfectly. The matching Gucci shoes and handbag completed the ensemble. It even had a small jacket with matching sequins, just right for an autumn evening. She piled her hair on top of her head with large spiral curls dangling down her neck.
As she completed the finishing touches to her makeup, Tony entered the bedroom, greeted Claire, and went to the adjoining bath for a quick shower. She smiled. His tone sounded chatty, like other people were near, and his eyes were milk chocolate. He emerged from the bath clean-shaven, hair wet, and a towel around his waist. The aroma of aftershave filled the bedroom.
Watching him, she momentarily thought about an ongoing conversation she’d been having lately with herself. It usually started with thoughts of him, pleasant thoughts. Then she would think about the way he made her feel or how much she liked to see him happy. It would then turn to questioning, something like, Are you completely crazy or only unstable. She didn’t know how she could be feeling this way about him. After all, he kidnapped her. He hurt her, but when he was good . . . Claire tried to remember, there was a song or something that said: when he is good, he is so good—and that summed it up.
She pondered the many puzzling sides of this enigma as she watched him in the mirror. First, looking at him as he removed the towel, her pulse quickened and she forgot about her primping. No one could deny his incredibly handsome physique. Hell, he was gorgeous. Despite the almost twenty-year age difference, she observed his defined muscles, broad shoulders, and firm abdomen. Momentarily, she fantasized about the feel of his skin against hers. Second, he was undoubtedly an extremely successful businessman who desired to keep his life private. Third, he utterly and completely believed in appearances. Fourth, he had an insatiable sex drive. In that arena Claire had come to terms with his varying approaches, anywhere from tenderness to domination. However, the side of Tony that bothered Claire the most was his unpredictability. His temperament could shift without warning, making an Indiana tornado seem docile.
Due to his position, his desire for privacy and appearances were understandable. It was the swiftness with which he could go from serene to furious that concerned her. Nevertheless, as Claire watched him dress, smelled his cologne, and heard him chat, her body tingled in anticipation. She looked forward to being on his arm, enjoying Chicago’s nightlife.
Their dinner reservations were for Sixteen, a fine restaurant on the sixteenth floor of the Trump Tower. Their table had an amazing view of the Wrigley Clock Tower. Tony ordered their wine, appetizers, and meals. The reputation for outstanding cuisine proved true, everything tasted delectable. They chatted throughout the meal, mostly about Chicago and its many possibilities. Claire didn’t complain about spending the day in the apartment, but she mentioned that after the spa she would like to do some shopping. After all, wasn’t it Tony that kept encouraging her to shop?
After dinner Tony suggested they walk the short distance from Trump Tower to Cadillac Palace Theater. Having wanted outside all day, Claire thought his idea was fantastic. Feeling the warm city breeze, walking arm in arm down South Street through the crowds of people, gave her a rush of anonymity. They talked and laughed as the evening faded into night. Claire’s deprived senses filled with sounds of traffic, the feel of a crowd, and visions of buildings transforming into monuments of architecture as darkness descended and lights illuminated.
Claire could have walked forever. Even the sensation of her shoes hitting the hard concrete delighted her, but their journey ended too soon. Upon entering the theater, she saw the show bill high above their heads. She’d long been a fan of the “Wizard of Oz” and immediately became excited about watching the performance of “Wicked.”
Of course, they were seated in prime seats. Claire remembered shows she saw in the same theater years earlier, sitting somewhere near the top of the balcony. Currently, they had an excellent view of the stage and orchestra. For the next few hours, Claire was lost in the performance: the acting, the dancing, and the singing. When Elphaba sang “Defying Gravity,” Claire was absolutely mesmerized, her life disappeared into the performance. Every now and again she would notice Tony watching her, not the show. She chose to ignore his gazes and enjoy the show. She believed her behavior was appropriate and knew without a doubt that if it weren’t he would let her know.
After the show they walked back to Trump Tower. Tony talked about Claire’s appointment scheduled for nine in the morning. She had a massage, facial, and hair services scheduled, but if she wanted more she only needed to let them know. Everything would be billed to Tony’s apartment. Her only concern would be generous tipping, and he would give her all the cash she needed. The spa was actually in the tower and Charles would be available to help her find it. They would provide lunch if her services took that long and they probably would.
That night Tony’s bed wasn’t cold like it had been earlier in the day. Claire believed that his business in Chicago must be going well. That night he was generous, demonstrative, sensual, and erotic. Perhaps he felt apologetic for his quick judgment the week earlier. Whatever the motive, Claire loved the results!
In the past, during the nights Tony stayed in Claire’s bed, it seemed like they slept on polar-opposite sides. Tonight’s finale concluded differently. They fell asleep with Claire’s cheek on his chest, his arm around her bare shoulder, and her arm over his tight abdomen. She could feel his warmth as his chest hair tickled her nose, her head rose and fell with each of his breaths, and the sound of his heartbeat in her ear. She inhaled his intoxicating scent and drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep.
The next morning, she awoke alone. Due to the heavy draperies the room was dark: making it difficult for Claire to judge time. The clock read 7:10. She hadn’t heard Tony get out of bed, shower or dress, and had no idea how long he’d been gone. Putting on a robe, she decided to find coffee. At home it would have been brought to her immediately upon waking. Then she thought—no, hoped—perhaps this room didn’t have the quality surveillance of her room in Iowa. In the dining room Charles poured coffee and informed her that Mr. Rawlings left thirty minutes earlier for his Chicago office.
Sipping the rich bold liquid, Claire’s mind recalled the pleasures of last night. Not just the sex, which was great, it was memories of his voice and expressions. Blissfully walking back to the bedroom Claire told Charles she would wait until after she dressed for breakfast.
Back in Tony’s room she found his note: I am sure you remember that your appointment
is at 9:00, don’t be late.
I plan to be back to the apartment by 6:00 p.m.