Sharon had her breakfast in her room: black coffee,orange juice, a couple of rolls with black cherry jam.She may have slept badly but like she had already decided, it was nothing a careful make up job would be unable to hide.
She made up and her make up hid most of the evidence of her bad night. She put on the clothes she had delibrately picked which was smoothly tailored dark grey suit, short jacket, straight skirt with a crisp white shirt under it, to make herself fade into the crowd, mostly men, in city suits who would be attending the conference.
Even her auburn hair was pulled back austerely from her face but she could do little about her long legs in their sheer black stockings. Men always starred at them.
a car was coming at eight-twenty to take Bryan and herself to the hotel where the conference would be held, so she left her room at eight- fifteen.
Bryan appeared a moment later, elegant and formal in a dark city suit, red and white striped shirt with a stiff white collar and a sombre wine- red silk tie.
Over the suit, he wore a black cashmere overcoat, unbuttoned, thrown open.
She gave him a cool nod
'Good morning ', she said for the benefit of the waiting driver.
Bryan's eyes were frozen wastes and he answered in a tone equally distant. 'Good morning '.
They sat side by side at the back of the car as the driver drove then to the conference venue, each looking out into the crowded noisy streets,neither speaking.
It was a short drive. The city lay around them like a living, breathing being.
The sound of life and living filled her ears everywhere they went. She even saw a flock of priests in black and nuns with rosary beads rattling as they hurried along.
People said all cities looked alike these days but she had to disagree. Rome could not be included. It was unlike any city Sharon had ever seen.
She looked at it from the car, feeling as if her every nerve end had been intensely sensitized, each brief sensation she experienced was sending ripples of response through out her nervous system.
Bryan leaned back in the corner beside her, his body swaying with the movement of the car. She fought not to look at him but ty couldn't stop her eyes from wandering sideways, once, glimpsing his dark clad, muscled thigh, one leg crossed over the other, his arm resting on his knee, his hands splayed, long powerful fingers at ease.
Heat rose in her throat, she was remembering last night, that hand sliding intimately down inside her dress.
Swallowing, she looked away, her skin burning. The mere memory was enough to make her stomach churn. How could she have let him do that to her?
How could she have wanted it because she had to admit that she had, she had been going crazy while he touched her, she couldn't deny it anymore.
It was the wine, she told herself hurriedly. That was what had made her crazy, the wine. She wasn't used to drinking and she was certainly not going to touch the stuff ever again.
It was a relief to get to the hotel. They had to go through security first, hand over their identifications and documents, be given an electronic pass with their name and country of origin and the name of their bank digitally recorded on the tape on the surface.
'You must wear your pass at all times during the session', they were informed. 'Or you will not be allowed into the conference hall'.
The proceedings began promptly at nine. After the coffee break, many people left for discussions in smaller groups in smaller rooms.
Sharon stayed with the general session, Bryan left to stay with the group who were discussing interest rates.
Lunch was a buffet affair.
You lined up to choose from a variety of cold and hot foods and sat wherever you found a place.
Carrying her plate of very attractively dressed salad, to a table which still had some empty seats, Sharon found herself sitting next to someone she knew - Gerhard, an attractive man in his early thirties, an observer at the conference for the German bank.
'Lovely to see you darling', he said as he kissed her.
His English was perfect for a German.' Is David here too?'
'No, he had planned to be here but he went down with the flu', Sharon said.
'Oh, too bad, poor David'.
They had met in London, a year earlier and Sharon had gone out on a date twice with him. Once to see a movie and the other time was to go skating. Though Sharon had been hopeless at it, Gerhard had been an expert at it and had invited her to come visit him in Germany some day where he could coach her because there were lots of frozen rivers and lakes near his he where he had practiced as a child.
David knew all about him, he had told her that Gerhard was a rich young man from an old German family.
Gerhard was fair, faintly cold and very clever.
Theirs had been a brief relationship. They had only known each other for a week. It had been an interlude, hardly a friendship, let alone a romance. But she was pleased to see him.
'We must try to sit together over dinner', he said.
'We have been allocated seats', she pointed out but Gerhard shrugged.
'Oh, I'm sure we can change our seats if we ask. I am bored with the people I am with. Frightful people always talking about money. Who are you seating with, do you know?'
She had been seated next to Bryan. 'A colleague's, she said offhandedly. 'I'd rather sit with you if it's possible'.
'Anything is possible', Gerhard said with the faint arrogance of his upbringing and class and smiled at him with a charm that was entirely his own.
'Now tell me all about you, is there a man in your life?'