Odette in Love

Odette sprinkled the pedals of ten dozen roses she cut into pieces all over Bill’s apartment. Being an investment banker he tended to work long hours and she still had some time left before he made his usual stroll through the door then plop down on the couch routine. But it was Valentine’s Day, so she thought she’d do something so sweet and nice.
She threw them up in the air all over the bed, giggling and thinking about later. Like she was Gretel she dropped them in a trail from the door to the kitchen and then to the bedroom. She lit candles on top of the TV. She lit them on top of the bookshelf. She lit them wherever there was a ledge: the window, the little wall that separated the kitchen from the living room, the sink in the bathroom. Light was not an issue this night. A fire was burning.
Odette sauntered over to the kitchen to check on the Raviolis and freshly made tomato sauce spattered with portabella mushrooms and bits of sausage that she was cooking. It was Bill’s favorite meal. He’d order it every time they’d go to Non Sola Pasta in Yardley which was a good thirty five miles from the condo they had on the 20th floor in Center City. How romantic he’ll find this, she thought.
Odette, tired and running on Red Bull, finished her thesis on the Crisis of Communication earlier in the day, which she had been writing and researching for quite awhile now. Her main point was in modern America cellphones, television, and a million other distractions are driving people to lonliness and suicide. She cited suicide and single person household ratios in Finland and Japan. Both countries have high single person household ratios and suicide rates. The preferred method for a woman was to take pills; for a man, it was more violent: death by shotgun, death by cop, death by hanging, death in any way as long as you leave an indelible mark that can’t be erased like framed Molly Maquire Alexander Campbell’s make-shift blood on the wall of Cell 17 in Carbon County, Pennsylvania. Quite a gory thesis for a woman who gushed to undergrads and teachers about how in love she was any chance she got.
Odette laid back and put her feet up on the blue plush love seat. She kicked off her shoes. She unzipped her pants. She thought of later.
Odette then turned on the television and began flipping through the channels. A minute later she quit , zipped up her pants, and walked to the stereo and tried to find some music to play. Something romantic. Something sensual. Something to set the mood.
A key slipped into the door outside. The knob tuned. In walked Bill. His face froze. Then he beamed.
“Odette, you shouldn’t have. We weren’t going to fall into that coporate trap of Valentine’s Day remember?”
“I know, but I couldn’t help it. I love you so so much.”
He grabbed her by the her butt and squezzed her close to him and then forced his toungue into her mouth and kissed for what seemed an eternity. “Let’s eat,” he said.
Over dinner they talked of her thesis. He thought it was rather depressin. She said sometimes depressing is what people need to hear. He said people should be happy. She said they’re not and we’re lucky we are. They both smiled and laughes. He reached across the table and interwined their fingers and moved his foot to hers and placed it on top. Dinner was over.
He lifted her up like a baby and carried her across the threshold of his room and threw her down on the bed. He jumped on top of her and ripped her pink blouse off. He bit her nipples. Then he ripped off her white A-line skirt. She didn’t even car what she would wear home. She was just happy she came and did this for him.
As she presser her head into the pit of his right am and draped her delicate pale white hand over his heart, he said something.
“I don’t want to. Can’t I stay here?”
“I have to work early and you know how I get when I’m tired.”
“What will I wear?”
“You can wear something of mine. It’ll remind you of me.”
She kissed him on the cheek and jumped out of bed, throwing on his pants, which were so long she had to fold the cuffs several times. Then she picked up the light blue shirt he wore that day and left the top three buttons unbuttoned. She blew a kiss and made her way to the door.
“Hey, you can come over now. I just got home from work. I have a surprise for you,” Bill whispered into the cellphone.
When Sandra arrived she found rose pedals everywhere and a nice meal of raviolis burning on the stove. Bill pulled her to him, grabbed her butt, squeezed her to him and forced his toungue down her throat.
“My God, Bill, you’re so sweet. Thank God I met you.”