Dangerous Seduction
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“You don’t think it’s dangerous, do you?” I asked. “What about your parents?”
The look in her eyes was enough to tell me that she knew exactly what was happening between us and yet couldn’t resist the temptation of an adventure with this young man from the country.
I watched them talking for a moment longer before turning away. I wanted to believe they’d make up their minds soon; if only because I didn’t want to be responsible for any more trouble than necessary!
So we sat there on opposite sides of the table—and waited. And while the tension in my heart eased, the thrill of being alone together in his presence made me feel as though my body would explode with pleasure when he kissed me… but then again, perhaps it was just the thought of kissing him.
She had been so bold, so forward, and now, having found out that he wasn’t quite so innocent, she seemed suddenly timid and shy. That was all right with me. I didn’t like to see her unhappy, especially after everything I had done for her sake.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly.
I turned to face her, and she looked down at her hands clasped tightly around each other on the tabletop. I could have sworn that she blushed, although I had no idea how she could possibly know. I hoped she was enjoying our time together too much to notice anything else.
I gave her hand one final squeeze and stood. It was time for me to leave. The night was young. I needed sleep. Tomorrow might bring something unexpected.
We walked toward the stairs, and the moment she saw the bed, her eyes lit up with delight. My own cheeks were burning. I felt as if my skin were tingling under my gown. Her fingers ran over the hem of my dress, trailing over the back of my neck as she pulled me closer to kiss me goodbye. Then we parted, and she went upstairs to change into another dress.
After I had gone downstairs to get some food, she came down and asked me if I wanted to stay for supper. When I declined, she smiled, and I took a breath and stepped onto the landing to go home. But once we reached the street, I heard a voice behind me: “Goodbye.”
I spun around to find myself face-to-face with him. He bowed slightly, and I nodded. Then I turned and left.
His eyes met mine briefly through the window, and then I shut the door firmly and locked it. There was nothing more to say.
When I opened the door of my house, I realized I hadn’t taken off my gloves or shawl, so I slipped them off and hurried inside. As I passed the parlor mirror, I caught sight of myself in the glass.
For a second, I almost wished I’d stayed outside, for surely my appearance would have been very different from what I usually wore. Yet I also felt glad to have seen him—if only to reassure myself that he was safe and happy.
That evening, when I went to bed, I lay awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about what she had told me. His parents’ names weren’t even on the list. Hadn’t she mentioned something about that? Was that why she had hesitated?
My father was still snoring away, oblivious to everything, but I closed my eyes, trying to imagine what my mother must be feeling. If I’d known the truth, I wouldn’t have let her come here alone. I should have insisted upon going along with her. Perhaps if I had, things might have been different.
I wondered if he would ever forgive me for letting her take that risk. Would he blame me forever for not having prevented it?
And then I remembered her words: You don’t think it’s dangerous. What did she mean by that?
It was hard to fall asleep. I tried counting sheep. I counted until I fell asleep, but it didn’t help. I woke up hours later and listened to my parents’ footsteps on the stairs. They never slept late. They always rose early, even when I was young, and used to wake them up.
This morning, however, I could hear them moving about, and I knew they would both be sleeping in tomorrow. They wouldn’t wake until noon, and I decided I’d better get ready to go to work. After all, I needed to earn money to pay for the wedding.
I was so tired that I hardly noticed when I finally drifted off to sleep. In my dreams, I kept hearing his voice telling me that he loved me. I dreamed that he was standing beside me, and he held out his arms to embrace me, and I leaned against his chest and felt safe and warm and protected. And when I awoke, I could still remember every detail of that dream.
The next day, I got ready for work with a heavy heart, wishing I could stop time. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see him again tonight. On the one hand, I dreaded seeing him, knowing that he was likely to tell me what he thought of my behavior. On the other, I couldn’t bear to lose another opportunity to speak with him. I missed him already.
As soon as I arrived at work, I went to my room to fetch the money box. I unlocked it and found two gold pieces inside. I sighed in relief and tucked the coins into my pocket before hurrying back to the parlor.
There was a small crowd gathered there. A few of the men were drinking tea; others were playing cards. One of them, who seemed to be an old acquaintance of mine, glanced up as I entered. We exchanged smiles and nods. Then I went over to my desk.
I sat down at the counter and waited for the customers to come. It was quiet, but the clock ticked loudly. The sound of my own breathing filled my ears, and I felt as if I was sinking slowly down into the floor. I longed to leave. I wanted to run away somewhere where no one would notice me. I didn’t want to see anyone.
“Miss,” said the man I’d spoken to last night. “Can you serve us?”
He handed me a tray loaded with teapots and cups. I set it down carefully on the table, and the first person in line picked up a cup and began pouring. When I heard him place his order, I looked up. He was the same man as yesterday. My heart skipped a beat.
I smiled politely, but I couldn’t look at him directly. Instead, I gazed at him from behind the counter. At least I could still see him clearly from this angle.
We talked, but I couldn’t keep up a conversation. Every time I spoke, I stammered. I didn’t know how to respond to anything he said.
“You’re too beautiful!” he exclaimed suddenly. “If you hadn’t been so beautiful, maybe we would have done our best for you.”
I nodded. But he only repeated himself. “Beautiful! Beautiful!”
My head spun. I turned around and took the teapot, which the man was holding for me, placing it onto the tray. As I stood up, I saw the man I’d met in the garden—the one whose name I didn’t know. I smiled at him. He stared at me, confused. I wondered what to say to him, so I asked him something simple: Where are you from?
“What is your name?” he asked.
His voice sounded strange to me. I hesitated for a moment before answering. “Lucy,” I replied.
But the stranger continued looking at me strangely. His face remained expressionless, like a mask. Even though he was wearing glasses, it didn’t seem to affect his vision. “Lucy,” he repeated as if I’d told him a joke.
After serving everyone their orders, I left the kitchen and brought the tray to the counter. I had served four more people before the man finished paying. That was when I realized that I had forgotten to ask his name.
“Where do you live?” he asked.
“In the same building,” I answered. “Are you here for dinner?”
He shook his head. “No, I’m not here for dinner,” he said. “Do you want some tea?”
“Yes please.”
He ordered a pot of Earl Grey. I placed it in front of him and then moved away from the counter. I watched him sip from his tea, watching him closely. He seemed different than the others. I could tell by his eyes alone that he wasn’t like any of them.
I looked over to the corner of the room where the door was located. The man who’d been staring at me earlier was now seated near the entrance. He was sitting in one of the armchairs and reading a newspaper.
“Excuse me,” I said, walking toward him. I put the tray aside and picked up the tray with the teapots and cups. “I’ve finished serving,” I added. “Thank you very much for waiting.”
“Why don’t you sit down?” he called after me. “It’s cold out today.”
When I came back, he was still there. He was gazing at me with his piercing gaze. “That’s nice,” he said.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“Your name,” he said, pointing at my chest.
I knew exactly what he meant, but I didn’t answer him. “Thank you,” I said, handing him a plate.
“Please sit down,” he said. “Didn’t you hear me?”
“How did you know my name?” I asked.
“You should go home,” he said. “Let’s drink some coffee together. Would you like another cup?”
The man stared at me suspiciously. “You’re not going anywhere,” I whispered, placing the teapot next to his mug. I made sure the handle was facing outward.
“Would you like anything else?” he asked.
“Thank you,” I said.
“Thank you,” he said, taking a piece of bread from the basket.
I couldn’t understand why he was acting so oddly. Why was he staring at me? And why had he asked me about my name?
“May I help you?” the man behind the counter asked.
The stranger smiled at him. “Oh, yes,” he said. “Can you bring us another pot of coffee?”
The man nodded. “Of course,” he said. “Coming right up.”
“There’s nothing wrong with the way you serve,” he said, leaning closer to me.
I thought he must be talking to me again, but I couldn’t meet his eye. I pretended not to notice him. Then he leaned close enough to whisper in my ear. “Don’t talk,” he said. “And don’t look at me.”
Then he got up from his chair and walked away.
***
A few days later, I went to the store to get ingredients for a cake. While I waited for the shopkeeper, I gazed out into the street. I looked at the familiar sights, trying to recall them all. When I noticed someone standing outside the café, I turned around and saw the man who’d spoken to me on the first day.
“Excuse me,” I said, coming forward.
“Who are you?” he asked.
I felt an uncomfortable sensation rising inside me. It was as if I were being scrutinized.
“My name is Lucy,” I said, extending my hand.
“Pleased to meet you,” the man said. “Is this your first time in London?”
I stood motionlessly beside the door. My hands were trembling slightly.
“What is your name?” I heard him ask. “Is it really Lucy?”
“Lucy,” I said softly. “What did you mean—when you said that I shouldn’t speak or look at you?”
“I just wanted to see how well you remembered me,” he said.
I closed my eyes, feeling dizzy. “Why would you ask something like that?” I asked.
“You’ve changed since we last met,” he said. “You look older.”
“That’s because I’m older,” I said. “But that doesn’t make sense.”
“We’ll have our coffee,” he said. “I’ll wait here until you come out.”
“Thank you,” I said, turning away. “I’m sorry, but I can’t do that. I’m too shy.”
I kept my face averted, and when I opened my eyes, I found myself standing beside the counter. As soon as the shopkeeper appeared, I stepped out. The man was nowhere to be seen. I took a deep breath.
“Do you need any help?” the man behind the counter asked.
“No,” I answered. “Everything looks good. Thank you.”
“Have a nice day,” he said.
The End