Preserved In Amber
by
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She continued with “Do you want the television on?” She picked up a controller from the table, pointing it at the screen even before he answered, so he did not bother. The screen flickered into life, a grainy picture of two naked girls frolicking on a bed together.
The woman turned toward the door, “Sit down,” she said, “She won’t be long.”
“What did you say her name is?” he asked before she reached the door.
She paused, turning in the doorway, “Amber” then the door closed with a click behind her.
Self-consciously his eyes followed a circular path around the room and then he walked to the settee. The lighting was rather underpowered again, and it crossed his mind as it had at the other places how much they were trying to hide. It all seemed quite clean, and the place had a good reputation. Of course, some of the girls were better looking than others. He sat carefully on the least discoloured side of the settee furthest from the door, half watching the pictures on the screen and trying to remember the description of Amber as it had been given to him earlier on the telephone. ‘Long black hair, brown eyes, toned and tanned, early twenties, wearing short red skirt and top with red stockings.’ This was the brief description given by the person, probably the receptionist he had just met, with a set of figures portraying her “vital statistics” that would have suggested she would have been better employed as a “page 3” model. Of course, this would have been exaggerated to some fair degree, ‘false advertising to pull the punters?’ he had thought.
Before he could consider this further, a gentle rattle of the door handle caused him turn his head and as it swung inwards, she stood there, framed in the doorway. The actual description of her had not been that far from the mark, he thought, probably a little more than “early twenties” but not by much, and certainly not enough for him to care. Rising from the settee, he turned toward her as she stepped into the room.
“Good evening,” he said politely moving to meet her.
A smile turned the corners of her soft mouth upwards, her lips a delicate shade of pink, not the gaudy red he had expected from a lady such as her.
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About the Book
17th century
Traumatically witnessing his public execution, she is attacked, raped, rescued by two “ladies-of-the-night” and coerced into prostitution, resulting in early death from syphilis.
Bizarre coincidences linked to experiments in “past-life regression” convince a divorced man his liaison with an escort is reincarnation of the lovers. Sensing his responsibility, publishing the story may make amends.
About the Author
The author was born and grew up in the small
Now resident in an idyllic location in