Read Online Obsession (9780061887079) by Gloria Vanderbilt - Free Book Online Page B

the same-patterned Hermès scarf artfully placed around our necks. Priscilla asks if I would like tea.
    â€œWhat I’d really like is to see the house.”
    â€œOf course—come!”
    Priscilla graciously minces up the stairs curving to a long hall. Unable to contain myself I say,
    â€œThe bedroom first if you don’t mind.”
    â€œOf course—that’s where we’re headed—I knew you’d be interested—”
    She leads me into a room looking out over the East River. The first thing I spot is the chair. It is exactly like one in ourprivate sitting room at Akeru, one that Talbot designed, covered in a cinnamon fabric with a pattern of magenta squares, ample, wide, with rounded padded arms, the upholstery soft as marshmallows. A chair I love to sink into, reading, and often Talbot had tried to distract me, taking the book from me, lifting my skirt, skimming over my mons, continuing until it honey-creamed to his satisfaction, then kneeling down, spreading my legs, and, with great deliberation, circling my clit with his finger, and as it rose I begged for more, knowing in time he would touch it with his tongue—and oh god—what better way of whiling away an afternoon.
    Priscilla sees me looking at the chair and comments, “Talbot designed that chair, the fabric too—I often sit there reading.”
    I went over to the window and looked down at the river as the tugboat Tom Tracy chug-chugged by, projecting myself onto it, imagining I was there and not here.
    â€œWe love this house,” Priscilla said coming over to stand beside me. “Such a contrast from our other homes—the farm in Maryland, the flat in London, the pied-à-terre in Paris, the cottage in Nantucket with its heavenly sea and blue sky.”
    â€œYou know what I’d really like now is not tea but a glass of sherry.”
    â€œOf course, we’ll have it in the library.” I follow her and once again we sit facing each other as Phoebe, eyes averted, silently brings a cut-glass decanter of sherry and glasses on a silver tray, placing it on the coffee table between us.
    My hand shakes as I reach to take theglass Priscilla is about to extend. Instead I open my purse and take out an envelope, handing it to her.
    â€œWhat’s this ?” she asks.
    â€œA letter—”
    â€œOf what interest to me?” she says dismissively.
    I remain silent.
    â€œWhy it’s Talbot’s writing.”
    â€œYou’re welcome to read it.”
    I put out my hand to take the letter back and stand up, but she’s got a real grip on it.
    â€œI have to go. If you want to read it, it will have to be now.”
    She takes the letter out of the envelope—
    â€œOut loud,” I say.
    The two of us sit for what seems like hours, but perhaps it’s only a blink…trembling, she begins…
    Â 
    My Dove, Sweet Bee,
    An envelope will be delivered to you by a stranger and inside will be a ticket for a magic show. It comes as a great relief as you have waited so long, scented and coiffed exactly as I wish, your hair braided loosely and held by tortoiseshell combs, tendrils falling gently as antennas of mythical creatures around the pale beauty of your face, lightly tinted by a maquillage that allows its luminosity to shine through—and the sapphire blue eye shadow flecked with silver, please—your mouth made ready for kissing by a sweep of candy salve. I mentioned to Rowena to pull the laces on the bodice I brought from Neverneverland extra tight so that your breasts will poof up deliciously, longing to be released to my tender mercies—and, of course, you are wearing my preferred leather emerald-studded collar, but as I your Master have the chain and haven’t come, thestrain of waiting in vain for me so many nights makes you question your mental integrity. The magic show will be a most welcome diversion and one you richly deserve. Nevertheless you must