Chapter 5: Taxi, Taxi
He is everywhere. His tongue. His mouth. He is fire, and everyplace he touches leaves me burning and wanting more. These are the ragged thoughts that fill her mind as John kisses her. And even though she is filled to the core of her being with passion for him, she pushes his body suddenly and roughly away from hers.
However, she does not allow them to part completely because she grabs his left hand and envelops it in a tight grasp. She looks down at the floor as she tries to catch her breath in short gasps.
A look of hurt and confusion appears immediately on John's face. But as she looks up from the floor to his eyes, his negative expression is replaced by a look of mutual understanding.
Her mother's apartment and her mother's bed are not the places for their lover's reunion.
He returns the strong grasp that she has on his hand and he begins to pull her quickly out of the apartment.
She tries to resist a little so that they can slow down. She needs to change from her slippers into shoes, button her shirt, comb her hair…but he refuses her attempts to slow their speed and she has barely enough time to close the door before they start down the stairs. Even though she cannot see his face and he has not said a word, his feelings are clear – this is not the time for such minor practicalities.
The two of them remain silent as they continue their descent, and the only sounds that can be heard are the sounds of their muffled footfalls on the apartment building's velvet red staircase runner.
They emerge from the building into a heavy downpour. John hesitates for a second, and releases Kem's hand as he looks for something.
The rain immediately soaks Kem's hair, so she pushes the wet strands from her face and smoothes them to the back of her head with a graceful movement of her hands.
She thinks that John is looking for the little blue car that Michel has loaned to her so she leans forward to tap John on his shoulder in order to tell him that she had to park it down the street about half a block away.
But as she leans towards him, John suddenly takes her hand and begins to pull her decisively in the opposite direction of Michel's car.
Kem tries to peer though the heavy rain in the direction where John is taking them, and she sees that a dark Mercedes-Benz sedan with a Taxi sign on top is double-parked a few hundred feet away from the entrance to her building.
As they approach, the driver gets out of the car. He has a cell phone up to his ear and an unmistakably irritated look on his face.
The driver had just happened to see John as he was looking in his rearview mirror. Now that he has spotted John, he takes this occasion as an opportunity to let John know, in broken English of course, that he did not appreciate John's not paying him, and that he is in the process of informing the Paris police as to the whereabouts of this deadbeat American.
John stammers out an apology in simple French sentences before he takes out a thick stack of neatly clipped Francs to demonstrate his good intention.
The driver regards him wearily and then aborts his call to the police. He steps forward to take the money, but before he can grasp the bills, John pulls his hand away and says, "Hotel, George Cinq, s'il vous plait."
The taxi cab driver regards John intently for a moment and then he glances at Kem. He returns his gaze back to John as he raises an eyebrow, and then a small smile forms on his lips. He nods his head and he turns to open the passenger door for John and Kem.
John waves him off so that he can open the door for Kem. She slides into the taxi, happy to be out of the deluge that is currently flooding Paris. She moves over to the far side of the car and waits with anticipation for John to get in and relax beside her on the mildly cool leather seat. John closes his door and the driver starts the cab and heads in the direction of the hotel.
"How long will it take to reach the hotel?" John asks. The driver glances quickly at John in his rearview mirror before returning his attention to the road and says in his heavily accented English, "Traffic this direction not so bad. Maybe 15 – 20 minutes before we reach the hotel." John is satisfied with the answer and nods appreciatively.
The Georges V, she thinks. She opens her mouth to object but John shakes his head no, and then turns to look out the window on his side of the taxi.
His thoughts could not be clearer. If they couldn't have this memory at his hotel in Chicago, then they would have this instead.
Kem closes her eyes, relaxes against the seat, and places her hands on top of each other in her lap. She starts to tremble slightly. Although the rain had not been cold, it also had not been warm. After all, it was only May and this was Paris.
John redirects his gaze from the window back to her face and he sees that her body is shaking ever so slightly. He reaches his hand over to take one of her handsand he finds that it is cold, almost freezing, to the touch. A look of concern crosses his face and he turns to the driver with a look of desperate consternation.
I don't know the words, he thinks. She needs me now and I don't know the words. But even as this feeling of desperation begins to envelop him, Kem reaches out her hand and starts to caress the side of his face. Then she turns toward the driver and asks him in French to please turn on the heat.
John watches her – mesmerized by her sound and her face. After Kem finishes speaking to the driver, he feels the warm blast of the car's heaters and he begins to smile again. He pulls her forehead to his. Without even a word to her, she understood.
She knows me…Without even a word, she knows me. She knows me too well.
Suddenly, a new, less pleasant thought enters his mind. Will there be any mystery left if we have a lasting relationship? Or will we be burn out quickly like a raging fire that has already enveloped everything in its path and now has only its dying embers as fuel?
Only time will tell, he decides resignedly. And it is time that he owes to her and that especially owes to himself, he decides silently to himself.
He let's go of her hand and pulls a cell phone from his coat.
"That won't work here", Kem says in her soft, lilting accent.
He smiles and shakes his head slyly. "It's a GSM phone. I rented one when I arrived at De Gaulle."
"Hmmm….", she says sweetly. "Employing the Boy Scouts' motto, I see."
He looks down as he flashes her one of his shy smiles, then he pulls his wallet from his inside coat pocket and he takes out a black credit card. He deftly flips it over and begins to dial a set of numbers located on its back surface.
The phone number he dialed begins to ring, and he focuses his concentration on what is being asked. He pauses for a second, then flips the card over again and begins to punch in more numbers.
John pauses again waiting for a response. A female voice answers in a prim British accent, "American Express Customer Service. How may I assist you?"
"May I have your Concierge Desk please?" John asks.
"Certainly - one moment Sir, while I connect you."
Her voice is quickly replaced with the sound of tasteful, yet dispassionately played classical music as he is put on hold.
A few seconds later, another female voice, also with a British accent, comes on the line.
"American Express Concierge Desk for Executive Members. My name is Anne."
Anne proceeds to ask the perfunctory questions expected of her, such as the name on the account and the current billing address. John answers each question to her satisfaction until she finally asks him the question that he has been wanting to hear, "How may I assist you?"
"I need reservations at the George V in Paris, France. And I want a very special room with, hopefully, a nice view of the city. Can you assist me with this?" John asks in a friendly yet firm tone.
"Yes, sir. For which dates are you inquiring?"
"Ah…the check-in will be for tonight and the check-out will be…" he hesitates for second as he leans towards Kem. "What day is your mother scheduled to be released?"
"Sometime at the end of next week – either that Friday or that weekend", she says.
He leans away from Kem and directs his attention back to his conversation with Anne. "The check-out will be a week from today."
"Alright, let me see if I have everything", Anne says. "You want a room, preferably one of their best, with a view of city. Checking-in this evening with a check-out date of next Thursday", she says efficiently.
"Correct", John replies.
"Please hold sir, while I contact the hotel's reservation desk."
Anne's voice is instantly replaced by the classical music and John returns his attention to Kem. She is resting casually against the backseat with her eyes closed gently shut. He notices that she is no longer trembling and he angles his body so that his left hand can easily take hold of her left hand.
She stirs as he does so and turns to look at him.
The car's warmth has finally penetrated her body, and her hand is no longer cold to the touch.
He changes his grasp on her hand so that all fingers, but his thumb, are lightly wrapped around her wrist. Then he begins to slide his thumb firmly, slowly in an up-and-down motion over the tendons in her wrist, expertly massaging her radial pulse with each pass.
Her lips part in an unspoken moan. She draws closer to him as if to kiss him. He half closes his eyes as he is drawn to meet her.
Just then a faint, disembodied voice can be heard and their moment is effectively interrupted.
The phone has slipped away from John's ear but it is still close enough so that he can hear Anne asking him if he is on the line.
"Yes, I'm here", he responds a bit more testily than he had intended. He looks away from Kem in an effort to refocus his thoughts on something less passionate.
"Mr. Carter, the Reservation Desk at the Georges Cinq informs me that at this late date they only have suites available. However, based on your request I believe that a suite is what you had in mind", she states.
"Exactly. Do they have a recommendation as to which room best meets my needs?" he asks.
"It depends. Do you want a room with a specific theme? Like English, or Countryside or…" John interrupts her before she can continue. "No, I think in this case a traditional room will do."
"Very well, then they have two recommendations. There is a One-Bedroom Deluxe Suite with a full marble bath, foyer, balcony and a view of the Garnier Opera House. However, for a truly special time, they highly recommend the Royal One-bedroom Suite. The hotel contains only two of these rooms, and one of them happens to be available for the dates that you requested", she says.
"Hmmm…and the amenities?" Carter asks.
"The view is not as well known as that of the Opera House, however I can assure you that it is quite exclusive. The room is located on the first floor, and features its own private terrace and entrance, a full foyer, a marble fireplace, full marble bathroom including a soaking tub, sauna and steam room. It is one of the finest rooms in Paris and would definitely go a long way into making this a special occasion", she says convincingly.
John is silent. So much lavishness… So much opulence, he thinks. These are things that he normally shies away from, but then he looks at Kem and a small smile begins to tug at the corner of his mouth. What was it about her that made him want to share all these things with her? He shakes his head and another thought comes to mind. Certainly, they could think of lots of things to do in a room like that.
"We'll take the Royal Suite.", he says matter-of-factly.
"Do you wish to know the room rate per evening or do you want to know the price for your entire stay?" she asks.
"Entire stay", he says.
Anne quotes a 5-digit figure.
"Fine. Bill it and all other charges for the room to this card."
"Very well", she replies. "Management would also like to know if you will require a Butler during your visit? They assure me that all of their butlers have received their training at the International Butler Academy and can assist you with all aspects of your stay."
John stifles the urge to chuckle out loud – that Butler thing is a really a bit too much. He politely responds to the suggestion by saying, "No, I think that will be too intrusive."
"No problem. At what time will you be checking in tonight, sir?" she asks.
John remembers what the taxi driver said, and checks the time on his watch.
"In about 5-10 minutes", he replies.
"Very well, then. I will confirm these reservations with the hotel's Management and inform them of your imminent arrival. Will there be anything more?" she asks.
"No, thank you. That will be all for now."
"Good evening then sir and enjoy your stay", she says pleasantly before she disconnects her line.
John closes his line and puts the phone back into his coat pocket. Neither he nor Kem say a word. Nor do they dare to touch each other for fear of what may happen next.