Free Crush by Cecile de la Baume

good-night. And all that for nothing! And to think of the intricate arrangements she’d have to make to see him again. Did he really wish to marry her, as he claimed? How could he hope to convince her of it if he failed to make himself more available?
    She regained some of her cool after listing her grievances. She was perfectly unfair. David was in love; it was he who was running into her parsimonious time allotment, her reluctance to plan the future. There were times when she saw herself as a vampire, quenching with him her boundless sexual thirst while infusing his being with frustrations.
    She told him she was not about to exchange a husband overwhelmed with work, a settled family life, for another busy man who had not sired her children. But if she sought shelter behind this carefully wrought case, which appeared rooted in common sense, the real reason was her grudge at his failure to convince her of dropping everything to live with him, of not being irresistible enough to silence her scruples.
    Her introspection was getting too serious. Amélie decided to stop this barren self-absorption. Now she had the time to go to the art show, and to the movies. After all, David wasentitled to his thwarting impediments. Life was full of unpredictable happenings, which ought not to unleash paranoia attacks!
    She was suddenly ashamed of loving him so badly, and felt the need to make up with him though she alone experienced their falling-out. She knew the address, if not the telephone number, of David’s office. He was rarely there, spending most of his time home or outside on the shoots. She decided to call on him.
    The entrance to the building on rue François Ier must have been elegantly old-fashioned before the glass partitions and the potted plants. A receptionist, involved in refreshing her nail polish, seemed to have collapsed inside her booth.
    —David M., please? Amélie ventured, taken somewhat aback by the woman’s lowered face.
    —Got an appointment? she inquired without looking up.
    —Sure thing, answered Amélie, ironically concise in the hope of getting a reaction.
    —Second door to your left, beyond the stairs, was the roguishly curt answer.
    Amélie, expecting to be announced, had no desire to intrude upon David at the wrong time. She made her way along the corridor without the least bit of wholeheartedness, full of doubt as to the wisdom of an unexpected visit. She knocked on his office door so timidly that she was forced to repeat this operation a number of times before she was heard.
    —Come in! David thundered, annoyed with the mincing ways of the pusillanimous person behind the door: Amélie! he claimed, as she entered.
    —Am I disturbing you? she inquired tensely.
    —Of course not, my love. Come in and sit down.
    He looked at his watch, adding:
    —I’ve got all the time in the world. My next appointment is in three-quarters of an hour. What a lovely surprise! It’s so good to see you!
    Amélie recovered slowly from what she feared would be considered a lack of tact. She told him of her desire to see him, and forgetting his telephone number.
    —I had forgotten how beautiful you are! David interrupted her.
    Amélie smiled with satisfaction, pleased with her judicious selection of a pleated skirt, when she realized she might have been locked in David’s arms for the past five minutes. He hadn’t made a single move, too busy suggesting that he show her the final draft of the poster for his new film.
    —Where did I put it? Oh, yes, I know, he muttered.
    He circled his desk, went over to the closet, whose sliding panels were covered by mirrors. Amélie followed him with her eyes.
    His grey suit enveloped him in seriousness. He spoke of his movie as though he wanted to lend a professional character to their reunion, one in harmony with the décor. Seized with the desire to rid him of his constrained attitude, Amélie had stopped listening. She was going to get back at him for the ease with which he