Free Without You I Have Nothing by J A Scooter

reader?”
    There was the
slightest suggestion of laughter in her voice as she patted his arm, “Really I
don’t know how to thank you.”
    “That’s easy,” was
Peter’s grinning reply but his innermost thoughts must have shown on his face
as she quickly pulled her hand back and the chill returned.
    “Just be my friend -
my very best friend - my 'bestest'.”  He softly spoke with such sincerity that
the stiffness in Jennifer’s body seemed to melt. With a mischievous grin, he
continued as he threw the car keys to security. “And for God’s sake, trust me.”
    She did not demure as
he took her hand and led her to the elevator where he punched the key for his
apartment - the penthouse. Although apprehensive, she didn’t hold back. She was
distinctly suspicious yet her curiosity had ultimately overwhelmed her fears
and she failed to notice how closely Peter stood, bathing in her fragrance. The
lift stopped and Peter broke into her thoughts, “All out!”
    When Peter had left
earlier that evening, Mulligatawny soup (that delicious, but rarely served,
Indian Chicken broth) and a Beef Salad Thai Style were left in the fridge and
the curtains were drawn. Peter had already dimmed the lights and music - Die
Fledermaus - would play softly in the background when he pressed the switch.
    Hand-in-hand they
stepped into his apartment. Jennifer seemed oblivious of her hand in his as
Peter led her through the bachelor’s pad.
    “Not what I thought a
bachelor’s apartment would be,” she stammered in confusion. “I mean it’s so
neat and tidy and so... well... It is so expensive!” she could not go on as she
attempted to find the correct words.
    “Oh, don’t be fooled.
It took weeks of cleaning to get this place tidy, hoping you’d come. I had to
do something to make it presentable.”
    “You do tell such
lies.”  Jennifer was no fool. “This apartment just screams of the care and
attention you’ve given to its furnishings. Is that a picture of your parents?” 
She pointed above the fireplace.
    “Yes.”  Peter was
very brusque.
    “What a beautiful
woman and he’s so handsome in his RAAF uniform. He’s a squadron leader, is he
not?”
    “He was actually a
Wing Commander!”  The anguish in Peter’s eyes was enough to warn Jennifer not
to continue on that topic.
    “What an unusual
plaque under their photograph. Those little, crossed swords look dangerous. What
are they and what does the inscription say?”
    “They're Gurkha
knives called kukri and the badge is the crest of a Brigade of Gurkhas. That
inscription is private and I beg you not to ask anything further.
    “My parents are dead
and I am alone. This apartment was their last gift to me
    “You are the first
woman I have ever invited to share my home even if only for a few brief minutes.
You're the only female I’ve escorted through that door and I'm deeply honored. Inspect
the apartment. Inspect all the rooms while I prepare us a little something to
eat.”
    Jennifer’s squeal
stopped him in his tracks. “You do play chess!  I didn’t believe you but you do
play chess and these pieces are exquisite. The carving is delicate and it’s
solid ivory not fishbone. It’s very old because the world has now banned trade
in ivory. You must have saved up forever to purchase this set. I can’t play but
at least I know these pieces are not only valuable but they are for use. They
are not decorations. If only I could play.”
    “I’ll teach you.” 
Peter rushed to volunteer but there was more than chess on his mind. There was
so much he would love to teach her.
    That perfume of hers
was insidious as it reached out to entice him. Her voice just burnt into his
heart.
    “But I'm a bad host,
please make yourself at home. My home is your home. Have a look around.”
    He raced back to the
kitchen shouting as he went, “If the young memsahib would be seated. Oh, there
are four bathrooms if you wish to freshen up. There are clean towels in all