Page 12 of The Facilitator, Part 3

Chapter Seven

“Oh, Mackenzie,” she said when I’d presented the bag of makeup. “You’ve really thought of everything.”

We had been sitting at the table having breakfast, still in our robes. She’d showered, I was yet to. Lauren could wear no makeup and still be beautiful, not that she agreed. She saw every wrinkle and freckle as a blemish, I saw them as a life lived and loved.

“We have a tour arranged for this morning, lunch, and then sightseeing,” I said.

I gave her the tickets for the exhibition and she squealed. “How did you manage to get them, they sold out ages ago?” she asked.

“Thank the concierge, he did,” I replied, giving credit where it was due.

“What an amazing day planned,” she said, clutching the tickets to her chest. “I have comfortable shoes, don’t I?”

“You have jeans and your Converse, although I didn’t check to see if they were a matching pair,” I confessed, suddenly having a thought.

“Oh well, my heels go just as well with jeans,” she said.

“And then tonight…” I handed her another set of tickets for The Royal Opera House.

“No way, Madam Butterfly ?” she said, turning them over in her hands. “And a box?”

I nodded. Gabriella was the opera buff and I’d attended a few with her in the past. I’d grown to love it over the years but hadn’t seen one for a while.

I’d remembered Lauren mentioning Madam Butterfly and her love of the music, although getting tickets had been hard.

I’d only heard that morning when they were slipped under the door that we had.

She raced around the table and hugged me. She kissed my temple, my cheek, and then my mouth. She tasted of tea and I chuckled.

“How about an open-topped bus?” she said and I nodded. “I’ve never been a tourist in London, isn’t that terrible?”

“Neither have I. We could go see the Crown Jewels.”

With our day set out, I showered while she dressed. “ Where’s the cock ring?” she called out and I laughed. It wasn’t everyday I heard that said.

“Don’t know, look under the bed,” I suggested.

“Found it.” She walked into the bathroom and washed it in the sink. Smiling, she waved it around the air and left the room.

She stored away my purchases in the wardrobe, in my suit carrier, after wrapping them in a pair of my socks. “There, secure as the Crown Jewels,” she said, laughing.

I shook my head and dressed.

A taxi was waiting to take us over to the Saatchi Gallery. We lined up and when it was our turn, we marveled at the exhibition. She took lots of photographs with her phone, including a selfie alongside the replica of his coffin.

We took our time walking through the exhibition, finally arriving at the last room and exiting back into the sunshine. I took Lauren’s hand in mine as we walked through Chelsea. We sat outside a café and drank coffee. She raised her face to the sun and just soaked in its rays.

“Do you remember when you saw me sitting on that bench?” she said, reminding me of when I’d actually stalked her to know where she was that day.

I chuckled. “I knew you were there,” I said .

“Mackenzie Miller, you are man of confessions lately, aren’t you? How?”

“I knew where you lived and I stood outside your apartment house for ages, wondering if I should call up. Anyway, the security guard started to get suspicious and told me, in no uncertain terms, he’d call the police if I didn’t fuck off .

So I did. I got in my car and as I was about to drive away, I saw you,” I said, laughing at the memory.

“Bloody hell,” she replied, and, thankfully, laughed.

“I was smitten. I still am,” I said.

She shook her head gently and took my hand in hers. She raised it to her lips. “I don’t think anyone has ever loved me as fiercely as you do,” she whispered.

“I’m sure it will be the death of me,” I said, laughing but knowing I was deadly serious at the same time. “Now, how about a stroll to Hyde Park?”

It was about a twenty-minute walk, and not always a pleasant one. More so because the streets were busy and a couple of times Lauren was rudely bumped into. It reinforced our need for some space and a possible move away from London.

“I fancy ice cream,” she said, as we spotted a vendor. We bought two and continued to walk the park.

“You’re very sentimental today,” she said, as we sat on the grass to finish our ice cream

“Am I? ”

She turned to face me. “I know you have something on your mind, and that’s okay, it can stay there until you’re ready to tell me, but I just want you know that I’m here. When you’re ready, I’ll listen,” she said.

I leaned over and licked the ice cream from the side of her lips. “I know, and thank you.”

We strolled some more, hand in hand, laughing and then splashing our feet in the memorial fountain.

Without the stress and pressure of work, without the sadness of losing her brother for just those few hours, her eyes shone and were bright.

For those few hours she was just Lauren.

Not the businesswoman, not the sister of a dead brother, or the daughter of a grieving mother.

Not even my wife. She splashed, laughing, she took the hand of a small child who wanted to splash as well but was too shy.

She laughed and I captured as much on my phone as I could.

When she was sad, I’d show her that image and hope she could find some strength from it.

“This is brilliant,” she said, laughing and slipping her Converse on her wet feet.

We found a hot dog stand and she ate two, smothered in the onions in mustard and ketchup, laughing as it dripped to the ground.

We then found an opened-topped bus ticket seller and climbed on the next one, not knowing where it was going.

We sat and listened as the guide told us about the city we lived in but didn’t really know.

Lauren pointed out things while the wind caught her hair and she’d remove it from her lips.

Eventually, we made our way to the Tower of London.

I purchased our tickets and we joined the next tour.

We kept to the back and I placed my arm around her neck, she held my hand over her shoulder as we walked.

While the guide walked on, I slowed. I checked behind me and she giggled, assuming my intent.

“I want to kiss you where queens have lost their heads,” I said, knowing they hadn’t at that exact point but it added to the drama.

I pushed her into a small dark alcove and kissed her hard.

She stopped giggling and moaned very gently against my tongue.

Only when we heard footsteps did we break apart.

I took her hand and we jogged to catch up.

The guide droned on and we took every opportunity we could to snatch a kiss or two.

When we emerged, she had to rest her hands on her knees to catch her breath because she was laughing so much.

We ran to catch the next open-top bus. We sat on the back seat and I placed my arm around her shoulder. While we drove, I kissed her again.

By the time we took a taxi back to the hotel our lips were bruised.

“I think I need a nap before tonight,” she said, yawning.

“That sounds good,” I replied .

I set an alarm on my phone and we stripped. Lying naked and entwined in each other’s arms, we slept.

I woke before my alarm and switched it off.

I slid quietly from the bed and checked my emails.

There was one from Alex, just catching up, he knew I’d planned a weekend in London in Lauren.

We’d email every other day, even over the weekend.

He told me both Gabriella and Dominic were sick but the doctor had been out, it was just a bug and nothing to worry about.

He’d been to my house and checked it over, reporting back that all was fine.

I sent a quick reply wishing Gabriella and Dominic well and to say hi to his mom, who was flying out that day.

I’d met Alex’s mom a few times, she was a card, for sure. My kind of person, didn’t give a crap what anyone else thought.

I closed my phone down and sat in the living room, just looking out the window and watching the clouds.

I remembered as a child lying on the beach with my mom and identifying shapes.

I wasn’t sure why that memory popped into my mind.

I hadn’t thought of my mom for a while. A tear sprang to my eye.

I knew what it was, it was the thought of my meeting in two days.

I didn’t do sentiment usually, but I was torn inside with the desire to father a child.

I heard Lauren pad across the floor. She reached over the back of the sofa and slid her hands down my chest. She kissed the side of my neck.

“I’m wearing your shirt. I like the smell,” she said. I leaned my head back to look at her.

“I like the smell of me on you,” I said, smirking.

“You’re very territorial,” she replied, chuckling.

I smiled more and nodded my head. “Yep.”

I pulled her arms until she slid, laughing, over the back to sofa and came to rest on my lap.

“I could have had a mouthful of cock then,” she said, turning so she was facing me.

“That wouldn’t be a shame,” I replied. “You mouth was built for my cock,” I added.

“Ah, Mackenzie Miller and his enormous ego,” she mocked.

“Enormous cock, now don’t ruin it for me. Tell me it’s the best you’ve ever seen,” I said.

“Oh, for sure, Mackenzie. It’s the best I’ve ever seen, ever. In the whole wide world of cocks, yours is simply amazing.”

I nodded. “I think so, too,” I said, and then winked.

“Isn’t this wonderful? Just doing nothing,” she said, snuggling to get comfortable.

“It sure is. I was thinking about my mom just now. How we’d lie on the beach and just watch the clouds move across the sky. We’d do that for hours.”

“What did she look like? ”

“Me,” I said, and then chuckled. I fell silent. “I don’t remember,” I whispered.

“Oh, Mackenzie,” she said quietly.

“I have photos, of course, back in the States,” I said.

“Maybe we should have some here,” she said, and I nodded.