The Virgin
He was in the presence of a dangerous woman.
“Flight delay,” was all she said by way of apology for her tardiness.
“Flight? You flew somewhere? Today?” he asked.
“No.”
He waited for more of an answer and didn’t receive one.
“Are you coming with me?” she asked, sounding both impatient and indifferent, a difficult combination she managed to pull off beautifully.
“Where are we going?”
“A house.”
“Is it your house?”
“No.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Kingsley asked.
“Never.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Juliette said nothing to his joke. He’d got her to crack a smile the morning they’d met. If he could make her laugh once tonight he’d call it a victory.
“So...yes or no?” Juliette finally asked. “Are you coming with me?”
“After you, milady,” Kingsley said with a smile. She set out down the path, which wound around a patch of palm trees and ended at a small gravel parking lot. There in the parking lot sat a red Porsche.
He paused and stared at it a moment.
“I confess I didn’t figure you as a sports-car aficionado.”
“I’m not,” she said. “It’s not mine.”
“Please tell me you aren’t a car thief.”
“I’m not a car thief,” she said, sounding affronted. “I have permission to drive it. But if you like it, feel free to steal it for yourself. I don’t care a thing about it.”
“You’re interesting,” he said as she got behind the wheel. Without waiting for an invitation that didn’t seem forthcoming, he got into the passenger seat. That was when he noticed she had no shoes on. She drove barefoot. He liked that and he didn’t know why.
“I’m not interesting,” she said. “You’re bored.”
She started the car and drove out of the parking lot.
“So this house we’re going to...” he began.
“Oui?”
“Can you tell me where it is?”
“A few miles from here.”
“You aren’t planning on killing me at this undisclosed location, are you?”
She gave him a sidelong glance and her eyebrow went back up again.
“Are you scared of me?”
“You have a spear point knife on your thigh.”
“How do you know that?” she asked, sounding intrigued. Intrigued was better than irritated. He’d take what he could get.
“First of all, I’ve been staring at your legs. Second, I’m trained to look for hidden weapons on people. Old habits die hard.”
She flipped her dress to the side of her leg, exposing her right thigh where the blade rested in a leather and Velcro harness. She pulled off the Velcro strap, removed the knife and handed it to him.
“I have the knife to use in case the car breaks down at night, and I have to walk alone. I would never hurt anyone unless they tried to hurt me first.”
“That’s a noble philosophy of life,” he said, rolling up his sleeve and strapping the knife onto his forearm. He didn’t make a practice of carrying weapons with him these days, but if Juliette felt she needed a knife, he’d much prefer he be the one to use it if necessary.
Juliette shrugged. “It’s not a philosophy. It’s a religion. I’m Catholic.”
“Pull the car over.”
Juliette only looked at him. Then she laughed. Finally. And what a laugh. Musical, light, turning deeper at the end and coming straight from her belly. It hit him in the gut like a spear point knife.
“You don’t like Catholics?” she asked.
“I have a long complicated history with a Catholic priest of my acquaintance.”
“Is he a bad priest?”
“Very bad. He never preaches about sin, only God’s love and forgiveness. He doesn’t judge sinners and he works tirelessly at his parish on behalf of the poor and oppressed.”
“Sounds like a good priest to me. Is he a bad person?”
“He would die for the people he loved. I think he would even die for me.”
“And you hate him?”
“Completely and utterly.”
“Why?”
“Because he hurt his lover and made her leave him.”
“And?”
“She was my lover, too. Then again, so was he once. More than once.”
If Juliette’s eyebrow arched any higher, it would leave her face and hover above her head.
“I think I was wrong about you, Kingsley,” Juliette said as she turned the car onto a winding road. “I think I like you.”
“You didn’t like me before?”
“No.”
“Then why did you let me in your car?”
“I wanted you to fuck me,” she said.
“Flattering. I think.”
“You can take it as a compliment,” she said, making it clear with her tone she hadn’t intended it as such.
“You don’t need to like someone to fuck them?”
“No. Do you?”
“No, but I thought I was special.”
“I hate to tell you this,” she said with an apologetic smile, “but I don’t think you’re as special as you think you are.”
“That only hurts because it’s true. You really like me? A little?”