On the bed, laid out so she could see each one, were multiple bathing suits: one-piece suits like she wore in high school swim class and bikinis that would be perfect for the sun. She liked the styles but wondered if they would fit. Of course, they would, hadn’t everything else? She had to wonder how a promise made Saturday morning could be so quickly fulfilled on a Sunday, seemingly far away from anywhere. He told her that she would have bathing suits tomorrow. Apparently, he is a man of his word. That earned him one on the positive column. The negative column had more tallies than Claire could count.

Peeking out from under the white cover up was a wrapped gift. It was a small box wrapped in white paper with a gold foil ribbon. Claire always liked gifts but she didn’t feel good about this one. What did it mean? Was it because of how he had been or because of how he would be? She picked it up and decided she didn’t want to know. She sat the gift on the corner of the bed and wearily entered the bathroom to soak in the tub.

After the bath she chose the same soft robe she wore before. It felt warm. With some slippers, she would be comfortable until she retired. She combed out her wet hair and didn’t put on makeup. It was only five thirty but she was exhausted.

He said he would look for her before he left. She expected to find him in her suite. If she opened the door and he wasn’t there, would she be disappointed? Only because she wanted him to leave, so seeing him one more time would be a means to that end. Upon opening the door, she wasn’t disappointed and his presence didn’t startle her. He was seated at the table with the gift in his hand. “You haven’t opened your present.”

“I knew it was from you and thought you might want to see me open it,” she lied.

He set the gift on the table and walked toward her. Although his height dominated her small frame she held her ground and looked up at him as their bodies touched. He pulled her close and held her there with his strong solid arms. Her emerald eyes appeared weary as he examined her face. His eyes softly flickered milk-chocolate brown while his musky fragrance overwhelmed her senses. She wasn’t afraid, only tired. She silently prayed, “Dear God, if he wants me to do something, I hope it is over soon.”

In one swift yet gentle motion he lifted her and carried her to the bed. Although he had a trip to take, he didn’t seem rushed. Instead, he lay her on the bed and leisurely untied her robe. Claire didn’t move as he stood and looked at her body, completely nude, pink from the warm bath, and smelling of bath beads. She didn’t speak, nor did he. There were no instructions, no insults, and no rules. He began to touch her lightly, ran his hand over her breasts, down her stomach, and over her hip bones. She could sense a carnal desire that he was unable to control.

He gently stroked her soft skin with the tips of his fingers. Then he tenderly caressed her body with his lips. Using his mouth he started at her neck, her collar bone, the flesh of her breasts, where he softly enticed her nipples with his tongue. She didn’t want to respond. She wanted to be unfazed by his touch. She kept telling herself, “This is the man that hurt me.” Her mind heard but her body stirred down deep, and uncontrollably her nipples hardened as her back arched, pushing her breasts toward his lips. His mouth tantalized her skin. The open drapes made the room light. She sat forward as he gently removed the robe.

Anthony gasped.

Claire froze, unsure why he made such a sound, and turned to see his face. His features were softer and more concerned than she’d witnessed. He didn’t say a word but tenderly caressed her neck and back with his mouth. His actions were sensual, careful, and tender.

Slowly, he joined her on the bed, and only after ensuring that she was moist and ready did he enter her body. He’d been there before, but this was different. The only sounds from his mouth were incomprehensible noises that made their meaning clear. Soon she responded with the same language. This time it wasn’t just him that experienced fulfillment, Claire did too.

After they were both satisfied, she rested on the satin sheets and watched as he walked to the table completely nude and moist with perspiration. His muscles defined from exertion, he picked up the gift. She lifted her head from the pillow, her long damp brown hair cascaded in waves around her face. Her lips smiled weakly as he handed it to her. He watched as she removed the wrapping from the black velvet box that held a Swarovski wristwatch. She smiled.

“It is meant as a way to avoid glitches in the future,” he said softly.

“Thank you. I would really like to avoid those.”

She handed him the box and lowered her head to the pillow. Completely drained of energy, she closed her eyes and felt the soft warmth as Anthony lifted the covers over her body. She could still smell his musky scent as she drifted into unconsciousness. She didn’t wake until Monday morning.

In that time between sleep and wakefulness, Claire wondered if yesterday evening had been real. How could it be real if Saturday was too? Could Anthony Rawlings really be two such different men? As the fog began to clear she realized that whoever he was he was gone for the next two and a half days. This comprehension gave her a renewed vitality. She didn’t know what she would do with her sixty-five hours of freedom but she knew she would find something.

Her breakfast sat on the table when she exited the bathroom and the drapes were opened. The sky radiated a very light shade of blue and there seemed to be clouds forming in the distance. It was spring in Iowa. The weather could be unpredictable.

After breakfast she decided to try the indoor pool. She swam laps for forty minutes and rested in the hot tub. It felt wonderful to push her muscles beyond their limit. Other than her duties, she’d done nothing to exercise in almost three weeks. Surprisingly the lack of physical activity didn’t seem to cause weight gain. She didn’t have a scale, but she could tell in the mirror and with her new clothes. If anything she lost weight. She lay back and closed her eyes amid the hum and bubbling of the tub and realized it was her diet. In three weeks she hadn’t had any alcohol, not even a glass of wine. She also hadn’t consumed one ounce of dessert, not a cookie, brownie, or even a piece of dark chocolate. Now that the realization hit her, she craved chocolate.

The sixty-five hours passed without event. She thoroughly investigated the house. It was luxurious, vast, and held many amenities. However, the more she explored the more she realized it was still a prison. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t go outside. It may be bigger and grander than her suite, but it still had walls.

She made an effort to get to know the names of the staff. The young lady who brings food is Cindy. The young man that doesn’t speak much English is Carlos. Anthony’s driver is Eric. There were others that clean, cook, do laundry, and tend the grounds but Claire rarely saw them, so she didn’t have the chance to learn their names. Yet whenever she passed one or encountered them in a hallway, they would nod and acknowledge her, “Ms. Claire.”

On Wednesday before Anthony was scheduled to return Claire watched from the sunporch as nimbostratus clouds formed in the west. This would have thrilled her a month earlier. Watching storms form, either in person or on the radar screen, had filled her with excitement. As the dark clouds approached, she began to hear the distant rumbling of thunder. She could feel the distinct drop in pressure. Claire knew that Iowa, like Indiana, had its share of tornadoes. Despite the drop in pressure, her instincts told her this was going to be just a good old-fashioned spring thunderstorm, the kind that is loud and boisterous but usually blows over with little damage. It mesmerized her, she watched and listened. Didn’t it seem that she’d been too busy to just wait and listen to the weather? Now she had the time and she just stood.