I sit, as I’ve been asked to, on the cream sofa in the lounge. Not exactly a hardship—the sofa in question is squishy, comfortable, sumptuous, and laden with plump, pretty cushions which add a splash of colour to its paleness, albeit muted. But then that matches the décor in the rest of the room, with its palette of soft creams, pinks and browns. It’s a beautiful room. Inviting, luxurious and relaxing all at once. The air is perfumed by the heady scent of fresh flowers and wood polish. A trail of gorgeous rose petals runs across the parquet floor from the open door to my current position, a trail I followed when I entered the room, intrigued.
Several minutes later, my intrigue has only grown. What am I doing here? Why did Lovita lay out an outfit for me, including jewellery, with a note asking me to wear it, and to pin my hair up off my face? I mean, I get the gist of where this is probably going—I don’t for a second think I’ve been requested to slip into sexy lingerie to go and do some grocery shopping—but what exactly does she have in mind? And, more importantly, where the hell is she?
A huge part of me is itching to get up and go and look for her and find out what on earth is going on. But another part doesn’t want to ruin the game, the surprise. Lovita clearly has a plan. And maybe part of that plan is to tease me, keep me waiting until I’m out of my mind with curiosity and restlessness.
Not that that will take long—and she knows it. Sitting around, waiting, doing nothing… three things I’m really not good at.
Regardless of that, I stay put. Gaze around the room, admiring the opulent furnishings, the wallpaper, the delicate feminine touches that...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Lucy Felthouse
