Another Time, Another Place

“Whatever,” I announce out of my window. He squints his nose at me and I squint mine back at him.

“You two are a trip,” Bishop proclaims as he drives away.

“At least I don’t have to deal with his crazy ass anymore.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Bishop, we talked about this this morning. I don’t want to go through this again.”

“Don’t worry, we won’t. Do you mind if I make a stop on the way to your car?”

“That’s fine.”

Twenty minutes later, Bishop drives into the archway of the Ritz-Carlton in midtown.

“I’ll be back,” he announces with a kiss to my hand.

“Bishop, wait. What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.”

He leaves the car and walks through the entrance of the hotel. About fifteen minutes later, he returns.

“Everything is set.”

“Everything like what?”

“You’ll see.”

He signals for the valet to park his SUV. He then walks around to my door and opens it in his gentlemanly fashion. I’m curious about what he’s up to, but I also need to get home. Maybe a quick peek won’t hurt.

We reach the twelfth floor and Bishop leads the way to suite 1220.

“Close your eyes,” he requests and I oblige without hesitation. I’m more curious than ever. I suspect that the surprise is for me and I’m dying to know what it is. He opens the door and the sensual scent of roses fill my nostrils. I smell the aroma of vanillascented candles.

“Bishop, can I open my eyes?”

“Not yet. Walk this way.” He guides me from the entrance and I notice my heels no longer click on marble flooring but are silenced by plush carpet.

“Now?”

“Yes. Open.”

My mouth falls open at the beautiful sight of a rose petal-covered bed, with calla lilies in crystal vases on each nightstand accompanied by chilled champagne and two crystal glasses. I follow the rose-petal trail on the floor to the European spa bath in the next room.

“A jasmine bubble bath awaits you,” Bishop whispers in my ear. “I know we got a little carried away this morning, and there was no place to really erase our encounter. So I thought I’d bring you here before letting you go home.”

“Thank you, Bishop. This is so nice of you. But—”

“But nothing. No strings attached, just enjoy yourself. I’m gonna take a shower.”

I undress by the side of the Jacuzzi tub and let my dress and undergarments fall onto the white marble floor. Bishop watches me through the mirror and I don’t mind. After I slide into the bubbles, he walks back into the living area, turns on some jazz, and then returns to the bathroom, undresses, and steps into the shower.

“How does it feel?” he yells above the running water and rumbling Jacuzzi jets.

“Fine. Thank you. I needed this.”

“No problem.”