II
Andres Torres is rarely late for work. He is not a man of habit, but of strict punctuation which, for the most part, remains unyielding. This morning, however, minor distractions have collated and put him behind expected schedule.
Next to him on a large canopy bed lays another form, shifting comfortably in a state of postcoital bliss. A light smile brightens her features as she slowly rolls toward the centre of the mattress to meet her lover.
"mmmphhff grrhh" She emits a rumble of incoherent words and runs her hand over the silky sheets.
"My dear, if you keep this up, I'll never get to work" He speaks.
The woman laughs and coyly lowers her gaze. His hands find her dishevelled hair and grasp at the sides of her neck.
"I'm not seeing a problem there…" She leans toward his slim, reddened lips. He met her kiss, lightly nipping at her tongue. It was over before it finished starting.
The older man pushed the champagne-coloured sheets to one side, and gracefully rose from the bed. He was too quick for her to react, and smiled as her groan filled the large bedroom.
" Patience. Patience" Tanned flesh whipped past her and into the adjoining bathroom. She heard the shower run, and knew that play for the morning had come to its end. He was unmovable once his mind was set, much like herself. She considered joining him in their accommodating tub, but decides against it. She too should consider gearing up for the day. Their dedication to work was the rare characteristic which gave away their Spaniardless ancestry, most of the locals were willing to bend the clock to meet their demanding social standards.
Ten minutes later, he emerges from the steamy tiled room, passing his wife on the way out with a playful slap on the backside.
" You'll pay dearly for making me wait." Her demure grin vanished behind the door, yet she leaves it slightly ajar, enough for him to make out her naked form slither behind the crystal glass panel.
"I look forward to it" He sighs, wondering if she heard him. It didn't matter, she already knew that he matched her eagerness on the topic of their intimacy.
He dressed quickly, donning a pair of tailored navy pants and a pale salmon silk shirt and straightened his longish, darkly dyed hair. Dark shades covered his intense maroon eyes, before he made his way downstairs. Time was lacking, and breakfasted would have to be skipped. Not that he minded, his hunger had been directed towards a different arena where strawberry croissants were menial competitors.
Outside, the sleek black Mercedes waited for its owner. Its presence was somewhat diabolical and sophisticated- much like the driver himself. Hannibal Lecter got in the luxury automobile, and pulled away from the large stone dwelling. To most, the car reflected merely the sleek manner and power of Andres Torres, nothing more. Antique curators were greatly lacking in sinister intent, it was the perfect position to be filled by infamous serial killer.
Work was a splendid experience for the most part. They had been living in Cáceres for nearly two years, after a hasty move from Madrid. The lifestyle of a criminal was not a stable one, but there was something about this city that held Dr. Hannibal Lecter transfixed, much like Florence still does in his memory palace. The Palazzo Vechio had been a dream, and Torre De Los Sande, or The Tower of Silver, was the next best thing. The large, dominant building stood over the city, like the fortress it had once been to the Catholic Kings and monarchs.
Fifteen minutes from home, he pulled up in front of the grand scenery and parked next to a silver Quattro. Annette Reiriz waits for her colleague at the entrance, shifting her weight impatiently from side to side. A flush brightened her olive cheeks as she saw him approach with a set of clanking keys.
"A good morning, Annette" His voice is smooth and cultured, with a slight rasp.
"Yes Andres, very good" She watched him work the lock from behind; he seemed unaware of her excessive scrutiny.
" I stayed up late last night to double check the inventory, to make it easier for us today" She straightened her dark tresses and followed him into the dimly lit foyer.
" Ahh, your dedication is noteworthy Annette, thank you." He walked over to a panel of switches and flicked on a series of lights, illuminating the slightly elevated lobby in a cascade of brightness. Hundreds of aging goods lined tall, categorised mahogany shelves. Each section was chronologically labelled according to age and material make. Any given item could be named and located within minutes.
The business structure had been subject to immense change since Andres Torres took over the position of the former curator. He and Annette had worked diligently side-by-side, for the past three weeks, re-building an entire collection of exclusive antiques. There had been little time for sociable chatter, yet as their list of chores grew smaller, the occasional 'how was your weekend' often played itself out further to a certain point where the two could now classify themselves as colleagues bound my the civility of professionalism.
" I have a few phone calls to make before we start for the morning, I'll be in my office if you require my assistance." He smiled politely and exited down a narrow hallway to the left. She heard the door gently close and sighed audibly.
Her knowledge of this man was somewhat limited. Although she openly discussed her marriage and lifestyle choices, he gave limited information away in reference to himself. All she knew was that he was married, presumably happily, to Sara, a thirty-seven year old whose profession involved quite a lot of secrecy. They lived on the other side of town, in a large dwelling on secluded acreage, where their neighbours were out of sight. On the odd occasion that he did divulge something remotely personal, his comments were of good intention and becoming to his partner. Their seemingly flawless relationship stirred a significant amount of untamed envy. Word-of-mouth proposed that Sara was remarkably beautiful, the perfect counterpart, with an eerily humble presence. Annette had not met her in person, or seen such a distinguished face, but already her nerves were buzzing. The slightest mention of Sara Torres was enough to tarnish any good day.
Annette followed her manager's path and turned right into her opposing office in the hallway. Through the closed polish door she could hear a rumbled baritone making inquires, it made the tiny hairs over her body stand to attention. Soon after she had settled in to her own office, his door opened once again, she looked up from a pile of papers to see him standing in her doorway.
"I hope I'm not interrupting…" He waited for her to shake her head before entering her small, tidy workroom. " That was cargo, the delivery will be considerably late, two days at the earliest." He stood, with poise, before her desk.
Annette rolled her dark eyes and shifted in her chair. Sometimes she felt as though his gaze was penetrating right through her. " I suppose I'm not surprised. We'll have the insurance to re-write now." She groaned in frustration. " After I spent all this time preparing, I should call them and give them a piece of my mind."
"Yes, they have rather inconvenienced us, but I doubt your call would alter the situation. I will fill out any outstanding papers this evening." He held their gaze a moment longer before angling his back to exit. He did not turn to her as she spoke.
"Would you be interested in diner at my house? Over a pile of monotonous insurance paperwork?" Her heartbeat elevated, adrenaline showered her veins.
A brief pause before he replied. " Actually, my wife is cooking tonight" Her tuned at the doorway, quick enough to register her cheeks fall in disappointment. His mental notebook flipped over page by page with recorded observation. "Though we do need to finish this, perhaps you and Marco could join us for dinner."
Initially, she was bitter, Sara has taken precedent and in all selfishness that bothered her. She accepted without much thought, but later considered the privilege he had granted her by inviting them to his home. The color returned to her cheeks.
Hannibal Lecter left her office and headed for the library. His decisions never went by without significant forethought; the idea of inviting the Reiriz's to dinner amused him, as he thought of his wife's reaction. It had been quite sometime since they'd had company in their dining room, four years to be precise, and that had been quite an event. Although his intentions were different and work related to some extent, he looked forward to the doubt that would cast in his lovers azure gaze as he told her of his evening plans.
He grinned to himself, she'd be either enraged or curious, and trying to hide her reaction from him as their guests trampled on what usually remained virgin territory. This would be an interesting little experiment indeed. Hannibal Lecter did enjoy his play, especially in the company of his most exquisite playmate.
A/N: Thanks goes out to my girl Steel, who helped me out with my crewsants…or was that crassants? (Umm croissants) dilemma. After all, breakfast is the most important meal of the day…