WIP – Chapter 2

“Let’s start again, shall we?” Duncan took a sip from his glass of wine watching her intently over the rim of the glass.

“OK, so who are you, where do you come from and what are you doing here?” Fran asked him.

“My name is Duncan Meyer, I’m a South African architect visiting Berlin with my business partner who was indisposed tonight, so our client brought me here for supper. He has now apparently left me to my own devices and has gone in pursuit of the fairer sex. Under those circumstances, I thought, why not do the same?” He smiled alluringly at Fran. “What about you?” 

“Fran Copeland, English, Marketing Director for the Bijou Hotels & Resorts group, in Berlin for the international travel show.”

Chrissie, Gio and Claudia continued politely talking amongst themselves, leaving Fran and Duncan engrossed in each other. Fran gave the potted version of her hope, without elaborating on her methods of inducement, that she would in all probability finalise a big contract the following day.

Some time later, Gio announced that he and Chrissie were going back to the hotel, and looking around, Fran realised that Claudia had simply dissolved into the crowded bar. Duncan showed no signs of being ready to leave anytime soon, and so Fran decided she might as well savour his company a little longer. They talked about their favourite buildings – Fran felt a little out of her depth given Duncan’s technical knowledge and prolific repertoire of commercial and historical monuments the world over.

“The Taj Mahal,” she offered

“Yeah, OK, though a little obvious. I was looking for something a little… more… from you,” The ambiguity of the comment was not lost on Fran.

“Stonehenge, then”

“Archeological, not architectural. Another one”

“Well, some people hate it, but I love The Tate Modern – inside and out.”

“Good choice. Iconic. Modern. My turn. The Vernissage Hotel, Berlin”

“And, it’s special because?”

“Because, it’s utterly modern, observes all the rules though not the style of classical architecture, its interior is clean and uncluttered, it’s a gallery for original artwork, and I have a suite there. I can show you if you like…”

Fran thought back a few short hours to her response to a similar invitation from Laszlo. Now this was a nightcap she was interested in.

Around about midnight they eventually stepped out of the bar swaying against each other in the cold night air. Duncan hailed a cab and they clambered in. The driver nodded as Duncan gave the name of the hotel, then slid the glass panel to and pulled the vehicle into the stream of late night traffic.

The featureless exterior of the hotel, located in the former East Berlin, belied its contemporary interior. Waiting whilst Duncan stopped by the concierge’s desk, Fran took in the art deco style of the furniture done in rich, vibrant colours. There was an entire wall of modern art, and another of less abstract works, creating a gallery passage running through to a bar and dining room at the far end of the lobby.

Fran registered the ping of the lift as the doors opened. Duncan guided her in and they swooshed up to his suite. The room was large and pristine. When Duncan had said ‘clean and uncluttered’ she had assumed he was referring to the style of the hotel’s interior design, but she saw that also referred to how he kept his space. There were no clothes left out, his suitcase must have been stowed away in one of the cupboards – there was barely any evidence of his occupying the room. The plain, bold colours of the few pieces of modern furniture contrasted with the crisp white cotton of the duvet, which was turned down invitingly.

 Neither spoke as Duncan took a bottle of champagne from the well stocked mini bar and popped the cork. He poured expertly and handed Fran a glass. They stood for a moment sipping the dry French vintage until Duncan gently pushed her back into the bed’s feathery softness. He had proved an unexpectedly delightful companion for the evening and he was now proving to be an accomplished seducer.

As she succumbed to the pressure of Duncan’s lips, Fran began to think that she wasn’t doing very well for someone who had recently foresworn any romantic or sexual encounters to rather concentrate on her wider career opportunities. But Duncan’s kiss was firm, his lips soft and warm, and he made delicious noises of appreciation as he gently encouraged her to shed her clothes.