Saturday 3 September 2016

Writing Exercise: CORFU by Julee Stillman

From her point of view

I saw him when he checked in; Ralph Lauren bag and attaché case, and a swagger of confidence.
He let the porter take his bag but kept the attaché glued to his side. What secrets were hidden in there? What was so important that he wouldn’t let it out of his sight? I hoped it was five-hundred-thousand dollars.
As soon as I could I took a peek at the register. Mr Roger Butterworth was in a suite on the second floor. The suite next to mine. No connecting door, but that was not going to be a problem.
We met for dinner. Two perfect strangers on a perfect Corfu night. Our conversation was teasing.  Furtive glances, coy smiles. The clink of crystal. His silent acknowledgement that he would follow me anywhere. My ambition hidden behind my silk tangerine scarf.
My flight was booked. My suitcase packed. In five days’ time Roger would head back to his boring job in Melbourne and I…Well, I would be flying in the opposite direction, five-hundred-thousand dollars richer.
Men are so easy to bait and I already have another one on the hook.

And from his perspective.

Crisp white shirt, striped blue tie and a navy sports coat with gold buttons. That’s what I wear almost every day. That or something similar. It’s what my job as a general manager of one of Melbourne’s largest banks demands – something that says I’m dependable, trustworthy and it’s safe to leave your money in my hands.
However, I’m not dependable, nor am I trustworthy and it’s definitely not safe to leave money in my hands. At least not money I can embezzle. By all means put it in a safe deposit box, turn it into bonds or shares, but don’t leave it in an account where I can get my hands on it. Especially if I’m desperate to impress a pretty girl.
That’s why I’m sitting on the terrace of a five-star hotel in Corfu. Attentive waiters, good food and excellent ouzo. My eyes wander over a cobalt blue ocean and then back to the terrace with its terrazzo tiling. Then on to a corner table and the girl I stole five-hundred-thousand dollars for.





No comments:

Post a Comment