Gown

Flowing gowns, posh cocktails and stuck up socialites. Usually, he would have stuck out like a sore thumb but with the help of a suave tux, a clean shave and shiny shoes, Tom glided among the beautiful strangers. There was an abundance of thick makeup and clever undergarments, leaving only a small handful of truly attractive women and not one Tom was prepared to make a move on. He was selective, particular and precise. In all honesty, he was what you would call a ‘player’. The grand ball was his golden ticket to the rich and pretty, or so he thought. His friend, whom had provided him with access to the prestigious event, was nowhere to be seen leaving Tom to wonder the spectacular terraces alone.

The evening air was cool, crisp and clear. Leaning on the concrete fence, Tom looked into the large maze below; perfectly kept with neat rows of corridors. He snorted to himself, laughing at how some were able to live this way and others weren’t. Maybe he would like to own a maze. His pondering was interrupted by silk material brushing against his leg. Ready to sigh and moan about the rude rich guests, Tom turned to meet with the stranger. It was very rare that Tom was rendered speechless, but looking at the glowing woman, his mouth failed to formulate words.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her breath taking emerald eyes glistening in the sinking sun.

“Don’t worry about it,” Tom replied, his London accent a little less pronounced than usual. They stood side by side, not uttering another word. Tom’s eyes wandered secretly, he noted the woman’s navy dress clinging to her petite hourglass figure. The woman’s quiet huffs and protective body language told Tom she was more than a little upset, “you ok?” he asked.

“Fine,” she sighed. It dawned on the young woman that she was appearing awfully rude, “sorry,” she quickly added, now looking at the stranger beside her. There was something different about him.

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m Tom by the way.”

“Rebecca,” the woman replied, accepting Tom’s rough hand and giving it a firm shake. Sadly, Tom noted the wedding ring and judging by her demeanour, she was not the type to stray from her husband.

“What are you doing here Tom?”

“Umm,” usually Tom was quick at producing a lie but Rebecca’s lightly tanned skin and soft brunette locks had him captivated.

“You’re not part of this scene,” Rebecca said as a statement rather than a question.

“Is it that obvious?” Tom laughed, “A friend of mine works for one of the organisers and nabbed a spare invite.”

Rebecca softly chuckled at the word ‘nabbed’ and unconsciously rubbed her hands together.

“What about you?”

“My husband is a powerful man. I think everyone here will know his name,” there was a sad tone to her voice.

The short conversation was soon interrupted by a bellowing call of Rebecca’s name. Her husband was not at all what Tom expected; his suit trousers sat snugly at his slightly rotund stomach, his hair was short and neat with a twinge of grey and he appeared at least ten years older. Tom was utterly bewildered as to how he had such an attractive wife. Rebecca gave Tom a quick smile and hurried to her husband, her towering heels proving a struggle but only elongating her slender legs.

A few were merry, a few were dancing, and many stood in hurried conversations. It dawned on Tom that he was completely out of his depth here. He was adamant that he would not waste time trying to network with the snobby money makers. With the cheapest cocktail, of a large selection of expensive drinks, Tom lowered himself into one of the plus armchairs dotted around. Only one thought played on his mind as he scanned the ballroom below, searching for Rebecca. He couldn’t understand why this woman had him so addicted; perhaps it was the boredom or his shallow appreciation of her striking beauty. There was something different about her.

He couldn’t understand his feelings but his heart skipped a beat or two when he spied Rebecca weaving in and out of the crowd of dancers below. Her husband was nowhere to be seen and she was heading for grand double doors, leading to a private courtyard. Before he could act otherwise, Tom’s legs guided him to the curved staircase and he swiftly marched down them, nearly knocking over a huge breasted woman whom he barely glanced at. Praying her husband was not watching or waiting, Tom strolled across the dance floor, his dark shaggy hair shining under the large chandeliers. He soon approached the exit and nearly leapt outside, almost tripping down the few steps that led to a lush lawn and several pathways. At first he could see no other person in sight but after a second glance, he saw a flash of blue in the distance. Taking the centre path and manoeuvring under heavy archways, Tom caught up with the beautiful stranger.

“Rebecca,” he called. The tall brunette turned.

“Tom?” she asked as he grew closer.

“Yeah, I...I...umm...” Once again he was speechless. There was an undeniable connection between the pair and Tom hadn’t been able to think of a reason why he would follow her.

“Are you following me?” Rebecca asked, her full lips stretching into a smirk.

“I saw you outside, just thought I could do with some air too.” Tom squirmed at his slight awkwardness; he would never imagine himself acting in such a way.

“I think there are only a few hours left of this shit party.”

Tom had to suppress a laugh; he had never expected the stunning woman to be so blasé, “thank god,” he added in agreement. Rebecca sat on the nearby concrete bench, engraved with an intricate design. After a few quiet minutes, Tom decided he too would take a seat.

“You’re not married?” Rebecca asked.

“No. I couldn’t help but notice you are,” Tom pointed towards her wedding ring. He immediately regretted verbalising his observation when Rebecca gave a little sigh. “Can I ask you something Rebecca?” Tom had no control over the words that spilt from his mouth.

“Sure,” Rebecca said, expecting she knew the following question.

“Why did you marry that guy?”

“I didn’t want too,” a sad smile answered, “It was my Father. He worked for John, my husband, and he was convinced I should marry him.”

“So you did?”

Rebecca nodded, “I had no intention too. John became besotted with me, and a few months after we were introduced, my Father died.”

“Oh,” Tom grew uncomfortable, “sorry.”

“I can’t believe I just told a stranger that! I have never told anyone. All smiles and polite nodding, you know?”

“I can imagine.”

The moon became dominant in the darkening sky and it beamed off Rebecca’s smooth skin. Tom couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Cursing to himself, Tom moved closer until he was inches from Rebecca’s perfect face. His heart battered his toned chest and he simply couldn’t comprehend his actions, his feelings, but he knew he wanted her. Rebecca knew she should back away, run back to her husband. Tom placed a hand on the beauty’s cheek and stared lustfully into her inviting eyes. A light breeze engulfed the pair but the warmth from their breath welcomed each other’s company. Seconds seemed to linger as they gazed at each other, overpowered by feelings they couldn’t describe. Tom couldn’t wait any longer and passionately let his mouth meet with hers. The kiss was extraordinary. Feeling as if a thousand fireworks had exploded in his stomach, excitement pumped through Tom’s veins. Rebecca had never been kissed like this before. She happily accepted the stranger’s romantic gesture but regrettably pulled away moments later.

“I know,” Tom said before Rebecca could say the words.

Feeling somewhat heartbroken, Rebecca stood and glided along the stone paths, her stunning gown swaying as she moved. Tom watched her disappear. She didn’t disappear into the crowded manor house. She disappeared onto the ground below. As he heard the terrible noise, he knew. Tom fully expected that he too would become victim to the hidden weapon as he raced carelessly to Rebecca’s fallen form. He gently turned her, tears filling his eyes. Tom had no idea why he felt so utterly distraught but the crimson liquid had ruined Rebecca’s gown. Her eyes were barely focused, her last breaths were gurgled. Suddenly the air had become violently cold. Several partygoers had raced outside at the sound of the gunshot. Tom’s hands flooded with the dying woman’s blood. He watched the tears escape her eyes as she looked at him. He struggled to keep his composure and whispered hurried apologies over and over again, knowing he was responsible for her demise. Rebecca managed enough strength to weakly smile but her eyes began to roll. Within seconds, her heart had stopped. Tom cradled her close to his chest, wishing he could have had more time with the woman he loved.