Rose is relieved to be flying business class, leaning back in her seat with her eyes shut she hears the rustle of fellow travellers taking their seats around her. She tries to focus on the reason for her trip and the man she is to meet for the first time tomorrow. Derwisch is a dream, an idea concocted a few months ago, founded on conversations in cyberspace, first over the clamour of forum conversations and later by personal message.
Until recently he has been almost a complete mystery; then his offer. Based on Derwisch’s proposition, Rose assumes he is older than she, perhaps in his 50's. He wants a companion with whom he can travel, a privilege for which he is willing to pay.
It seems far too good to be true, he talks of Egypt, India, Canada and Mongolia, all the places she ever dreamt of as a child. They were offered now, by this man she barely knows, with strings of course. Rose intends to spend the next few days with Derwisch, testing the relationship's potential. If it all goes well, he has said he will arrange everything.
She curses herself quietly. Circumstances have transpired to make her unsure. Perhaps she will forget the sexy foreigner from the airport lounge. Luckily, she has no way of contacting him. Rose opens her eyes, perturbed. By her side, a woman arranges personal effects: a book, tissues, glasses and water. The cabin crew begins to close above-head lockers; in-flight TVs flicker and twitch. One hostess bends over Rose's chair, she smells of marigolds and fairy floss.
“I have been asked to give you this.”
It's a business card; she pats Rose's arm before she rises and moves off down the aisle. Rose glances at the crisp, white card.
Business Intelligence Manager
M +61400 253 363
Rose clasps and unclasps her hands in her lap to stem her elation. In-flight safety demonstrations commence. Derwisch, she tells herself. Rose sighs loudly. The woman at her side offers her a tissue. Rose shakes her head politely, remembering to breathe out slowly through her nose.
The flight lands in Auckland and Rose disembarks. She catches a cab to her hotel. Her room is tastefully appointed in muted blues and creams. It's also large. No beige, she thinks happily and kicks off her shoes. Rose runs a bath, wandering through the adjoining rooms. She steps out onto a balcony, amused to discover that Auckland isn't a pretty city.
A knock sounds at the door. She opens it hesitantly.
“It's ten past twelve.”
“It is Ma'am.” The teenage in hotel uniform bows his head, avoiding her eyes.
“A Graham Derwisch asks to see you?”
“Yes Ma'am, he said he would wait. If it suits.”
“Oh.” Rose is flustered, tired.
“Tell him no. I want to stick to our arrangement.”
The teen looks quizzically at Rose.
“And why didn't you just place a call?”
“The gentleman asked me to come.”
Rose closes the door, she tries to re-establish her sense of calm. She wonders for the umpteenth time if it was a smart decision to come to Auckland. Finally, Rose sinks into her warm bath. She ducks her dark head under the water.
Half an hour later, feeling refreshed and relaxed, Rose orders a fruit and cheese platter and a bottle of crisp, white wine from room service. So much better she thinks, than the aeroplane or her empty flat across the sea.
A noise at the window catches her attention. A scrabbling, followed by a dull thud. Rose thinks to put on a sweater, hating the idea of being caught out in the dead of night, her pale breasts swinging freely beneath her cotton pajama top. 'I'm a prude' she thinks and then laughs, remembering sex and Roman at the airport, with relish.
“Shit” She whispers, alone.
The hair on the back of Rose's neck rises. Sounds of scuffle drift in from the balcony. Earlier, Rose set the door ajar, letting the fresh night air flow to her rooms. Right now it makes she feel foolish and shaky. Perhaps there is something to be said for locks and caution?
Rose takes a breath and turns on the terrace light. The decking illuminates and she can make out the cause of the noise. A man, his shirt torn and his shoes missing, gets up from where he has fallen. He limps and is missing a shoe. He holds up his hands in surrender.
“I'm Graham.” The man says softly, looking her in the eyes. “Graham Derwisch.”
Relief fuels Rose's reaction and she laughs, clasping her hand over her mouth to stifle her rude response. She hiccups. Her stranger rakes a practised hand over his chin and the start of a 5'o'clock shadow.
“Your dinner suit is ruined.” Rose starts their conversation bravely.
“Just my shirt, I had enough sense to leave my jacket with my chauffeur.”
“Derwisch.” This time, as he limps forward he extends his arm, by way of greeting.
He paints a handsome picture despite his trespass, ripped shirt and evidence of a bloodied toe. Rose reacts instinctively, rushing inside behind the clear glass sliding door; half in jest and half as a means to gather her scrambled wits. Derwisch's arrogantly handsome features contort. He squeezes his eyes shut and bites on his lip. The moment passes and he regains composure.
“This isn't the way it was supposed to go.”
He raises his voice slightly, as though aware the glass, whilst not impairing her view, will affect the clarity of his excuses.
“No.” Rose grins. She straightens, keeping one hand on the handle. “It isn't.”
He holds his breath, smoothing the rumpled shirt over his pectorals. It's hard to dislike Derwisch, despite her fatigue and his ungainly entrance. Rose waits by the door.
“Can I come in?”
“Of course not. We have an agreement.” Rose's eyes betray her.
“I wanted to be Romantic...Spontaneous... Surprise you.”
Still Derwisch waits to be invited. Rose relents and opens the door. He follows her into the hotel.
“Do you have a bandaid?” Derwisch motions to his bloody toe.
Rose shakes her head.
“Tell me again, why are you here?”
“My meeting became dinner and I live out of town. I was coming in to see you tomorrow but I found myself here now. Is it because it's late? I was excited. You must forgive a man.”
“You're not 50.”
“No, not yet.” Derwisch grins.
She is far more reserved than she ever meant to be. Not even Rose is sure why. Derwisch watches her, choosing to create a distance between them to set her at ease. He moves behind the coffee table, metres away.
Rose's forgotten room service arrives. He watches with interest as she presents the well-stocked tray. The platter is extravagant and the wine a relief.
“Would you care for a glass?”
Rose wonders if he has had other alcohol tonight.
“I didn't drink at dinner. “ His smile is thoughtful.
She pours their drinks and picks at the melon.
Rose sobers somewhat, as the situation slips from her control.
“What do you want?”
“I think you chose wrong.” Rose is confused, reality is distorted. Something she has wanted for so long doesn't seem important anymore.
“We had an agreement.”
“And because I'm so excited to meet you, I forfeit on this? You're insane.”
“Three in the afternoon, tomorrow.”
“Your heart was so set on it?”
Rose takes a step back, she adjusts her sweater, unsteady hands pour their drinks. She forces herself to eat.
“I'm not what you want.” Derwisch's tone is flat. It’s not a question.
He looks at her intently, Rose can't meet his eyes. She sips on her wine and looks out the window.
“Look at me, Rose.”
He crosses the room to confront her.
“Don't hate me. I'm different.”
“No. Wait, let me finish.”
There's a deep hurt in his brown eyes.
“You seem like an exceptionally intelligent woman. I know this a bit of a shock. Sometimes we wish for things and we create a reality, all our own, in our heads. Then the real stuff happens and it isn't like we imagined.”
“Don't patronise me.”
“No I'm not, I'm not. I just had all these grand schemes and I wanted this to be perfect and well, I've cocked it all up, haven't I?”
“You could go away.”
Derwisch eyes her strangely.
“Well, I could. I'm sorry my overzealous compunction to see you tonight has ended in a botched attempt at romance. I'm not sorry we met though, you're far prettier than I ever dreamed. What I'm wondering is, where do we take it from here?”
Rose takes a deep breath, she leans her weight on the wall, without words.
He's a tall man, angular and stylish. She can't imagine why he would want to pursue this, with her. As her blue eyes appraise him, she finds herself comparing him to Roman.
Derwisch is leaner and taller, more accustomed to seriousness than laughter. Rose shakes her head.
“It's been a long day.”
“Do you want me to go?”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“No.” A pause. “I don't know.”
“What is it Rose? I can come back tomorrow and we can forget this whole thing ever happened. Is that what you want?”
“No. Having you here, knowing you're real, whole and not a figment. I feel... I feel as though I might wake up.”
“That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Rose smiles at the compliment. In a few strides Derwisch has disposed of the space between them. She looks up into his brown eyes and feels suddenly young and self conscious.
“You can kiss me if you like.”
“I'd be delighted.”
Derwisch is hesitant. He kisses her tenderly. Rose tastes of fruit and uncertainty. It's quiet in the rented suite. Rose stands on tip toes to reach his mouth and gradually her hands creep around his neck.
Perhaps it's the time of night, or the fact she has been at work all day, the world seems to spin and dip. The darkness behind her eyelids intensifies. She feels herself relaxing into his arms. She is coerced by his persistant gentleness. Rose opens her mouth to accept the tip of his tongue. He tastes of coffee and schnapps.
Derwisch holds her tighter, tentative hands on her waist becoming a lovers embrace, one hand rests on the small of her back, the other slides up to tease her nape. Rose wriggles beneath his warm touch. She giggles through her nose and it escapes as warm air. Derwisch stops, reluctantly releasing her lips. She looks into searching brown eyes.
“You don't like this?”
“Exactly the opposite.”
His wry grin sends a tingling sensation through her body that starts in her chest and reaches the tips of her fingers. Rose licks her lips.
“You're an odd one.”
His mouth descends..
“What do you mean? It's you who has come here uninvited?”
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” Rose gasps. “No. Not now.”
A grin from Derwisch ends in a teasing peck on her nose.
Rose shuts him up with an urgency to her tongue and her lips that drives conversation from the room. Flustered and stumbling Rose takes off her pullover. Briskly, she lifts the pink cotton of her pajama top over her head too. Naked from the waist up, her nipples spring to hard peaks. Rose is vulnerable, with a racing heart.
Derwisch feels her pulse beneath his big warm palm, it makes him think of frightened birds. Rose fumbles with the bottom of Derwisch's shirt, lifting it up and over his head. Her light, wandering hands trace his chest. Derwisch isn't sure what to make of her rapid seduction and she can't seem to get enough of his skin. In turn, he keeps his responses measured, afraid to scare her. He explores the recesses of her mouth thoroughly, slowly, as though licking honey from a spoon.
Rose ceases craning her neck, choosing instead to rain kisses down his nape and across his adam's apple. He tastes faintly of cologne and salt. At his breast bone, Rose licks.
“I don't know what you want from me?” Derwisch's voice is unsteady.
His hands rake through her hair, they don't stop at her shoulders. He plays with her breasts.
Rose kisses his belly button and the trail of hair beneath it. She continues down his torso, to the clasp of his trousers. Rose tugs them down. In her thin, white cotton pajama bottoms she kneels on the floor. Derwisch wears briefs, (something she has never encountered before) she tugs at these too. Before he can even step free of his clothes she dives for a dose of his dick.
Rose rounds her pretty lips and stuffs the tip of his swollen meat between them. She takes it a centremetre at a time. Midway, she looks up through her lashes, gauging her new lover's response. He stares back, lusty disbelief in his brown eyes.
Rose uses her hands. She licks around his cock, grasps and strokes. She feels Derwisch steady himself. Her lips are slick with saliva and Rose takes his cock from her mouth.
“Should I stop?”
“I... No.? That's so hot.”
“Thank you” She squeaks, pleased with her performance. Don't think of Roman.
The disarming, handsome man attached the cock in her hand, shifts.
Rose blinks and resumes her task, lapping at his pole. It's a pretty cock, bold, hard and medium sized. She keeps her eyes clamped on his as she continues to suck. She notes Derwisch's eyes sliding skyward and the moment he closes them, stunned.
Rose stops. She gives him time to step free of his garments. Under the pretex of helping her, Derwisch runs appreciative hands over her collar bone, down to her waist. As before, his sensuous touch is unhurried, deflecting her desperation. Derwisch bends his head and takes her nipple in his mouth.
Rose holds his hair, disorientated by desire. Without leaving her skin for a moment his tongue travels to her other rosey nub, savouring the taste of her.
Rose curves her small hands into the waistline of her cotton pants. Derwisch shakes his head without breaking contact with her breast. Rose takes gulps of air.
“Don't you want to take off my pants?”
“No.” He answers softly and clearly, halting his sensory assault on her skin. “I want to earn it.”
For a moment she stops comparing him to the mysterious foreigner from the airport. Rose ceases to wonder why some men can have chest hair and others not and how it can all be alluring. She focuses on his honest words. Derwisch's sharp eyes take a long look at her. His hot lips descend onto hers and he initiates a bone-melting, passionate kiss.
Wordlessly he leads her to bed, flicking off the overhead light in the room. Their loveplay is illuminated only by a lamp light. He kisses her eyelids, plants warm, closed mouth kisses on her full lips. Toe to toe, he coerces her into falling backwards onto the mattress. She complies, wrapping her eager arms around his neck as she falls.
Imitating her movements, he drops tiny kisses down her breastbone, over her belly and finally his fingers close around the the elastic of her pajama bottoms,. He sends it slithering to the floor. Derwisch covers her body with his own and she welcomes his heat.
“I want you to love me.” Rose wraps her legs around his hips.
“Oh, I intend to.”
“Do I have to earn that too?”
It's a kiss that makes Rose giddy, his hot, hard cock suggestively tucked against her white g-string.
“I want you to take me.” She whispers. Her pussy throbs, her fingers tingle
Derwisch nibbles her earlobe, Rose squeals in surprise, letting go of her grip on his hip. He pulls the material of her thong aside, thrusting his cock into her wet depths.
Rose is at sea in the glorious feeling of being filled. She cranes her neck, wishing to be kissed. He complies, moving inside her tight pussy.
“That's so... Good.”
Derwisch breathes heavily, he too is caught in the magic of the moment. She pushes her pelvis towards him, a request to increase their pace. Derwisch ignores her, releasing his cock from her throbbing depths before slowly and deliberately insinuating himself back in. He watches her, his eyes dark. Rose melts for him.
She takes his arse in her hands and wills him to push into her. He doesn't. Instead, Derwisch playfully coaxes her hands from their vantage point, he takes them and raises them above her head, pinning them beneath the weight of one of his hands. Rose arches her back. She succeeds only in thrusting her breasts at his torso. Impaled, muted, Rose stares into his eyes. He kisses her eyelashes, her cheeks and the lobes of her ears. Very gently he pulls his cock from within her and pushes back in. Her pussy stretches to accommodate him. He brushes his eyelashes on her cheek.
Rose can feel the tightness in her belly, she recognises the familiar quickening. His strokes make her feel like a filly, being gentled. The moments crash onto one another and her inner muscles begin to quake.
Derwisch relents, letting go of her hands. She reaches for him. The squishy noise of their sexes meeting is the only noise in the room. Rose mews, pinned under sober brown eyes.
Derwisch doesn't reply. He tips his big body and turns them until she sits on top, still with his cock buried deep.
The depth of his penetration pushes the air from Roses lungs. She rocks, moving his cock within her. Her clit rubs on his pelvic bone, splitting her vision into fragments. Rose fights to keep her eyes open. She plants her palms on his chest. She uses her arms as a pivot point, on which to rock back and forth.
Roses mouth is open.
“Oh Baby, that's so good.”
Rose rides him, at times leaning to kiss his lips. Sometimes she only takes half his length. It drives them both wild and when she sinks back down on the full length of his cock it's with a satisfying, wet thud. Derwisch holds her hips. The pressure on her clit is too great and a moment later she cums.
Derwisch grunts in response. Rose continues to grind.
“Oh YES”. She grits her teeth and goes for broke. Derwisch holds her steady.
Rose watches as the moment splinters and Derwisch grits his teeth. He leans in, focused and taut, a second later his dick starts to twitch as he unloads a hot load of spunk into her sensitive cervix. Quite unexpectedly, Rose starts to cry. Spasms wrack her stomach and she heaves and sniffles.
“Shhh.” says Derwisch, caught off guard.
He rocks her pretty body and draws her face close to his. Sticky and spent, Derwisch rolls from her, gently pulling the quilt around them both. He doesn't say anything.
Embarrassed, Rose reduces her sobbing to just sniffles, she rubs her eyes. In the rumpled bed she stretches one lean, pale arm across his chest. Derwisch strokes her skin. The moments tick by.
“Gosh.” Rose manages, in a small voice.
Derwisch turns his bright brown gaze to hers. Rose wriggles, she props herself up on an elbow, splayed across his chest.
“Is this ok?”
“It's fine.” Derwisch is bemused.
“Still want to travel the world with me?” Rose smiles with her eyes, the tears drying on her pale cheeks.
“Hell no, you're such a handful, woman. But I am glad I know this now.”
He kisses her nose