Stacey's Choice

It was one of those perfect June days that we wait for all winter. The sun was warm, the sky a clear and intense blue without a cloud in sight. It felt like slipping into a warm bath rather than the sauna that the heat and humidity of August would bring. There were even people out sailing at midday this Friday as Stacey gazed out of her office window toward Lake Ontario. They were starting their weekend early and although she had a lot of work to do, she wanted to join them, or at the least get out of the office. No sandwich would be ordered in to be eaten at her desk. She was going to go out and enjoy this day.**Stacey was driven, usually focused on getting work done rather than revelling in the spring sunshine. But there was another part of her that needed feeding from time to time, a part that appreciated the weather and all other things that touched her senses, a part that she acknowledged in her free time and personal life, but not on a work day. Today was an exception.*Stacey pulled her jacket on and rode the elevator down the twenty-six floors from her office. She donned her sunglasses as she left the building and started walking without any particular destination in mind, just walking in the direction of a nearby neighbourhood where there were numerous shops, restaurants and galleries. She felt exhilarated to escape into the anonymity just a few blocks away from her office. She could wander until perhaps stopping to have lunch outdoors at one of the restaurants and watch the scene on the street.*Stacey was tall and blonde, dressed in a black linen suit, the uniform of the season. She called her suits her armour as she took on her professional persona when she dressed every morning. This was how she prepared herself to face the problems she solved each day with the insight and intelligence that had brought many clients to her law practice. The large Jackie O sunglasses made her feel like she was an incognito visitor as she strolled along, looking at the paintings and photography displayed in the gallery windows.*Her attention was taken by a large abstract painting in the Escort Göztepe window of a gallery. Although it depicted no image, it immediately took her to the Mediterranean. There was none of the haphazard feeling that some abstract art gave her, as if there was nothing particular in the mind of the artist, a kind of accidental art. This work was a riot of colour, yes, but she could intuit all of the things she loved about that part of the world: the golden light of day, the fields of poppies and sunflowers, the clear azure of the skies and lush green of the vineyards. The artist was one who was new to her. She decided to go in and see more.*She walked through the cool air of the gallery, stopping for several minutes at each painting and allowing herself to be taken into the world that the artist had portrayed. She felt as if this person had managed to take all of the exuberance of Van Gogh and Cezanne and distill it to abstract representations. There was a bench in front of a painting that seemed as inspired by night as the one in the window had been by day. There were shades of pink, mauve and periwinkle of dusk and the indigo of night with glowing shades of white and cream like the moon and stars. Stacey felt overwhelmed by all of these works and how they touched her. She sat down on the bench and felt the sense memories of days and nights in southern France wash over her. She was transported and lost in thought and sensation, but suddenly felt aware of someone?s presence beside her.*?What do you think?? asked the man who stood near her. He was tall and dark, dressed simply in a crisp white shirt and jeans. His hair was longer than the corporate types she saw every day and his hazel eyes seemed to dance as he spoke to her.*?It has been a while since someone?s work hit me like this,? Stacey said. ?I really love each and every one of them. I would like to know if the inspiration is the Mediterranean, which is my guess. That is where these take me.?*?May I sit with you?? he asked.*?Of course,? she responded.*He sat on the bench beside her Caddebostan escort and Stacey became even more aware of him. He was very understated but there was a power that exuded from him and she recognized the faint scent of Chanel ?Bleu?. She liked that he had not doused himself with the cologne as many men did.*?Please tell me more about what you see,? he asked. ?I am interested, you see, because I am the one who painted them. I?m Jean-Pierre Villeneuve.?*Stacey felt herself blushing. She felt a little embarrassed in case what she had already said was incorrect. She was not a fine arts expert, but had taken a couple of courses in university and always spent time in museums and galleries when she travelled.*?I love the way I can read into them and see places in front of me despite their being abstract. There is such a vitality in them. The colours are bold, but I feel tranquil looking at them because they take me somewhere I love when I look at them. I can feel their intensity and that makes me think that you love that place too. Am I right??*?You are,? he said softly. He was taking in something he thought beautiful as well. There was a serenity about Stacey that was unusual. She seemed so poised and self-assured, and yet she had blushed before sharing her thoughts about his work. He found himself charmed by her. He looked right at her as they talked some more, thinking that the intense blue of her eyes was one of the hues in the painting in front of them. They talked for several minutes, and he decided that he did not want her to go away.*?I know this is forward of me, but I am so enjoying talking to you. Would you allow me to take you somewhere for lunch??*Stacey hesitated for a moment. She did not know this man at all. But she was hungry now and she also did not want their conversation to end.*?I would like that. Thank you for being so kind,? she said.*Jean-Pierre took her hand as she rose and led her to the street. ?It is not very far from here and is quiet. I hope you will like it.?*They walked down the street together passing Bağdat Caddesi escort bayan more than one restaurant. Stacey wondered where he was taking her and hoped they would sit outside. He took her arm as he turned on to a side street that was more residential, all Victorian houses, but given the upscale neighbourhood, most likely all renovated as well. Jean-Pierre led her down a flagstone path beside a red brick house with stained glass inserts on top of its windows that looked original. She looked at him quizzically, and he smiled and said, ?Don?t worry. It will be okay.?*Then she saw where they were. The garden looked like an English one, but not one of those strict formal gardens. It was lush and cool and green, full of flowers in white, pink, and violet blue, every flower imaginable, even hydrangeas and peonies in bloom. It was not just how it looked and felt, but also the scent that impacted her. It was like the most beautifully blended French perfume. If only it could be captured just like that. She returned to reality as she heard Jean-Pierre inviting her to sit. He said he would be back shortly.*He made two trips from the kitchen bringing a chilled bottle of white wine, a board of cheese, charcuterie and fruit, and the requisite plates, glasses, and cutlery. Stacey was impressed at how quickly he put this together and took a few sips of her wine. It was crisp and delicious, perfect for such a day. She felt at ease despite being alone with this man who was essentially a stranger. They carried on their conversation about art and travels in France. She wanted to know more about his painting and what had inspired him.*Jean-Pierre watched Stacey as she ate, and he could not help but think how sexy this was. She made eating a sensual experience. Stacey tried to keep her mind on their conversation, but felt herself becoming more enchanted by the garden, the wine, and especially by Jean-Pierre. His eyes spoke to her with all of the depth of his thoughts.There was an undeniable electricity sparking between them. As they finished the last of the wine, he asked if she wanted to see the house. She was about to say that she had to get back to work, but really did not want to leave and break this spell. She nodded and again he took her hand as she got up. It was soft and warm, but there was a strength there. She wondered what was happening to her. This was not the usual work day Stacey.