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The Tenth Night

“I would really like to help you Miss Jane but Mr Vanlian is not here,” the hotel receptionist was shooing me away but I stood my ground. I wasn’t going to let some minor technicality from seeing him. If Murad was in his suite then no one was going to keep me from my destiny. No one. Not that smiling receptionist nor that security guard who stood behind him with his flashy outfit and his shiny badge. No one.

“But you know me Kevin,” I almost cried, “I need to go up to Murad’s room. I really need to see him.” I wanted to smack that smile off his face however I bottled up my anger trying to appeal to that man’s good nature only it didn’t work.

“You know I can’t do that,” the idiot kept smiling, “I am really telling you the truth Miss Jane. Mr Vanlian has left the hotel. He went back home.”

That wasn’t going to get me anywhere so I pretended to leave the lobby of the St Moritz hotel only to slip through the back door and take the service elevator to the top floor where Murad’s suite was located. Luck was smiling at me as I saw the door to his room wide open. The housekeeper’s cart was in the main corridor blocking the entrance so I pushed it away and went inside. I headed straight to the bedroom but no one was there. All the doors of the bedroom closet stood ajar. I was surprised that they were all empty. Murad’s clothes were all gone even his toothbrush was missing. I decided to head to his office. If he was here then that was the place I was sure to find him. Or at least I could find a clue as to where he had gone. As I entered the room I bumped into a brick wall. 

“Can I help you?” The brick wall asked. A ten by ten housekeeper with her hands on her waist tried to block me from going any further. “I think you are in the wrong room,” she said. I had reached thus far, no square ball with hair was going to stop me.

“I am Mr Vanlian fiancée,” listening to myself saying that sent a shiver up my spine. 

“The hell you are,” I was busted, “I know for sure Mr Vanlian doesn’t have a fiancée so you better leave Missy or I am calling security.”

“Go fuck yourself,” cursing as I walked around the loud mouth hotel maid and headed to Murad’s desk. I was going to sit there and wait for him all day if I had to.

I slumped on the plum leather chair admiring the handy work of the large wooden desk. I looked for clues to where he might be but I was again surprised that it held nothing of value, except for some books and a few torn up papers scattered on top. 

One book caught my eye. It was a poetry book by some famous dead guy called Rumi. I remembered hearing Murad mentioning this man. He was another oriental poet like Omar Khayyam only I had seen Rumi’s books in many bookshops here in New York. I guess he was more famous than I thought. 

I opened Rumi’s book and was dumbstruck. My picture was right there inside the folds of the worn out book. Murad has used it as a book divider right next to a verse he had highlighted with a pen.

I have been a seeker 

and still am. 

But I stopped asking 

the books and the stars.

I started listening  

to the teachings of my soul.

My tears started trickling down my cheeks smudging the words in the poetry book. That is when I noticed Murad’s handwriting. He had scribbled a few lines on those papers which he left there on his desk.

Never will I love again.

When all I know is strife

Never will I remain insane

When she ran out of my life

Never will my heart remain

When it is torched alive

Never will it sing again

When love is in vain.

I never knew Murad was a poet. He never told me. I guess he was still a stranger in some ways preferring to play his cards closer to his chest. I rested my head between my arms on the desk and started sobbing. I had never been a cryer. But I couldn’t help myself. I cried for him. In the short time since I’ve known him I managed to raise this man’s hopes up to the stars then brought them down to hell. What have I done?!?! What have I done to myself?!?!

“Miss Jane?!” The sound of a man startled me. I must have dosed off as I was crying on the desk. I looked up and saw him.

“I lost him Angelo.” I told the limousine driver who now stood on the other side of Murad’s desk waking me up as two security guards were flanking him on either side. He nodded to the men and they left the room leaving us alone in Murad’s office.

“He went home miss Jane,” Angelo repeated what the smiling hotel receptionist was telling me all along. Only I wasn’t listening. I didn’t know were home was for Murad and I was afraid to ask but I had to know.

“Take me to his home Angelo. Please.”

Murad’s chauffeur stood silently looking at me with sadness in his eyes then he said, “I am so sorry miss Jane. But Mr V doesn’t live here in New York. He went back to Chicago. That is where his home is. That is where his home has been for the past ten years.” Seeing the surprise on my face he continued to explain, “he just came back a few months ago when the old man died. I don’t know what has happened but I heard him say that he wasn’t coming back to New York anymore. I’ve even heard some say that he is going to sell this hotel to some investor or something.”

Upon hearing that I broke down and started crying once again. I don’t know why crying makes me sleep. I believe it is a safety mechanism of some kind. When I woke up I found myself in Angelo’s limousine. He must have carried me out of the hotel and was taking me home. I looked out the window at the bustling New York traffic grieving about my life; what it has come down to and what it could have become. I was admiring the view from Manhattan bridge. What?! Wait!!!! 

“That wasn’t the way home,” I shouted as I jumped to open the glass divider inside the limo.

“Sit and relax miss Jane,” Angelo said, “I am taking you to the airport,” closing the glass panel and leaving me fuming inside the car. 

We arrived to the airport and headed out to an aircraft hanger that was surrounded with private jets of all types and sizes. After the car stopped Angelo opened the door and helped me out.

“So is he here?” asking the moment my head popped out of the car.

“No miss Jane,” Angelo replied, “But I called him and told him you were asking for him so he sent you his private airplane to take you to Chicago.”

“So now I am supposed to hop up every time Mr V says so?” trying to hide the smirk on my face. 

Angelo burst out laughing and said, “you better or I am going to kick you all the way there myself.” 

The flight to Chicago was a terrible two hours journey. All the way I kept thinking to myself, “would he want to take me back? Does he still consider me his fiancée? Has he moved on? Has he found another? What does he see in me anyway? If he doesn’t want me then why did he send his private jet to take me to his home?”

After the plane landed I was whisked away in another limo to downtown Chicago and up into another high rise building. Murad must like living in such high places for I was ushered into his penthouse overlooking the lake and was told to wait. Lake Michigan was beautiful that time of year, so vast almost like an ocean yet so peaceful and calm. I spent almost an hour admiring the view as daylight was slowly fading away until I heard him behind me.

“What made you change your mind?” The first thing he asked. 

I was looking out the window afraid to turn around. His voice was stern with a hint of anger and sadness. I didn’t want to look into his eyes lest he sees my trembling lips. “Your sister,” I managed to reply while still looking out the window as he stood behind me.

“Yes,” pausing before he said, “I knew she would have something to do with it. What did she tell you?” 

I figured I had one of two choices. I had to break the ice somehow or jump out the window. I knew that the truth was the only way I could get out of this so I went for it, “she said you forgot to give me my ring so I came to get it.”

The force of my body turning as he twisted me around knocked my breath out. I was pinned on the glass pane with Murad’s mouth on mine sucking what was left of the air inside my spinning head. Damn that man. What’s with the pinning?! Why does he love to pin me up against every hard surface every time we are together? Mind you I was not complaining. Surprised that’s all. 

I rapped my legs around his waist and rested my arms on his shoulders pulling him closer into me. I don’t remember how long we stayed locked in each other’s arms against the window frame. The only distraction we had was to try to take as much of our clothes off as we can. As I tore his shirt off with buttons flying all over the place he groveled to touch my nipples trying to expose my breasts so he could get a better grip. Fumbling with his belt and zipper was an impossibility but we managed it somehow. In less than ten seconds his cock was hard inside my pussy and pounding away. Of course I had left my panties somewhere in his private jet anticipating a situation like this. Suddenly in the midst of all that he stopped.

His cock was inside my vagina so I tried to move my hips to compensate for his lack of trying. He could not have wanted to pull out. Not now. So why did he? I stopped and looked into his questioning eyes. I knew that what was coming was the pivotal point in our relationship so I braced myself for it. While my legs were trembling I securely rapped them around him with his dick firmly inside of me not wanting to let him go.

“Would you like to marry me miss Jane?”

Fucking hell!!! Did I hear that right? Did he just propose to me in the midst of a fucking joust? Could he just have waited a few more minutes? Doesn’t this guy ever do anything the easy way? That is when he resumed another round of mind boggling pounding, “ohhhh….fuckkkkkk…” I exhaled as he pummeled away for what felt like hours then he stopped again. 

“Noooooooo…..,” prompting me to scream once again.

“No you don’t want to marry me miss Jane?” with a smirk on his face he had the audacity to ask such a silly question.

When he didn’t get a reply he resumed another pounding game rocking my whole body against the cold glass surface. I was plunged into another roller coaster ride as I cried, “Ohhh fuckkkkkkk……yessssssss.”

“You do miss Jane?” stopping yet again to ask.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop.” I shouted from the bottom of my heart, “I do you idiot, I do, I do….now finish me off or by God I am going to kill you.”

Those were the only two words he wanted to hear. Two words I kept repeating again and again until we both exploded of lust and pleasure flooding my world with love for this man who knew exactly how to pull my strings each time we were together. By the end of that night and a hundred “I dooss” later our fate had been sealed. Since then I’ve been known as Mrs V or Mrs Jane Vanlian and I have been happily living in Chicago ever since. 

This is how I met my stranger in New York. Now Chicago is another story.

The End.

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