Not My Thing

However, there was a problem as the woman was talking to a fat, pink-haired queer and, while the President and Jamison waited, the animated soft-spoken conversation seemed to Jamison to go on forever.

‘Miss Lawrence only comes to these cocktails to do business,’ the President whispered. ‘It would be a bad time to interrupt her. This ghastly man is one of the important design cutters.’

‘I can wait,’ Jamison said, regarding this woman.

He thought she would be no more than thirty of age. He studied her slim figure and her breasts. Again he felt a quickening of his blood. Yes! This was a woman!

The President began waffling again about the coming recession, but Jamison didn’t listen. He waited, wondering when there was a time when he had waited for anyone.

Finally the woman patted the queer’s arm and turned.

‘Miss Lawrence,’ the President said quickly, ‘may I introduce Sherman Jamison?’

The name of Sherman Jamison, one of the richest and most successful tycoons, was well known.

For a moment, an impatient frown clouded Tarnia’s face, then she smiled.

God! Jamison thought, what a beautiful smile! What a woman!

She looked at him.

As they exchanged looks, Jamison knew he had not only fallen in love with her, but, by the way her eyes suddenly lit up, she had fallen in love with him.

On very rare occasions when a man and a woman meet, it happens that they immediately know that they have met true partners. This strange chemistry happened to Tarnia and Jamison.

There was a long pause, as they regarded each other, then Tarnia said quietly, ‘Nice meeting you, Mr Jamison. I’m sorry I have to leave. I have so much to do.’

Jamison shouldered the gaping President aside.

‘I am also leaving,’ he said. ‘Allow me to drive you anywhere.’

That happened a year ago.

Tarnia commuted from Paradise City to NYC twice a week. In spite of his business commitments, Jamison managed to see her and to dine with her at some discreet restaurant. When in Paradise City, they were even more careful.

Jamison had explained to Tarnia that his wife was a strict RC and, although he had discussed the possibility of divorce, his wife had flatly refused. She was prepared to have a legal separation, but she would not go against the rules of her church and give him a divorce.

Tarnia understood the problem. She knew that by staying with Jamison there could only be disaster, but she was hooked by him. He had a magnetic pull that was too much for her.

Jamison yearned for her. He wanted her to be his constant companion. What a marvellous mother she would make for his future son!

Tarnia refused gently, but firmly, to sleep with him, and this Jamison respected. He knew, unless he married her, this exciting, clandestine partnership must come, eventually, to an end.

Often they sat together in her luxurious five-room apartment in Paradise City: the big picture window looking down on the sea, the palms and the beach. They talked frankly to each other about themselves. To Jamison, it was a joy to relax in her company and to talk about himself and about her.

He had asked her why she hadn’t married before now. She was thirty years of age. She told him that marriage and a career didn’t mix in her thinking, and Jamison agreed.

‘I’m doing well,’ she had told him. ‘It has been a hard, tough struggle, but I’ve succeeded. I’ve had an occasional affair when I was young… teenage stuff. Now, most of my work is with the gay boys.’ She smiled her brilliant smile. ‘No temptation, until you came along.’

Then two weeks ago, he had a shock. They had finished an excellent dinner at a sea-food restaurant, when Tarnia said, looking lovely in the moonlight, ‘Sherry dear, we must now face facts. This can’t go on. You can’t get a divorce. Every time I see you, I suffer.’ As he began to protest, she raised her hand. ‘Please, listen. This morning I had a telephone call from Guiseppi, the best couturier in Rome. The fashion trend in Rome has enormously increased. Smart, rich women now shop exclusively in Rome. He wants me to be his chief designer. This is a fabulous opportunity. He is offering me an enormous salary and a rent-free apartment if I will go to Rome. He has given me a month to decide.’

Jamison listened, aware that his heart was fluttering uncomfortably.

‘Sherry dear, I can’t go on like this with you,’ Tarnia went on. ‘It is tearing me to pieces. I can’t even concentrate on my work for I keep thinking of you. So, Sherry, please be understanding. We can’t marry, and I must look to my future. I want us to part now. We will have lovely memories, but we must part.’

Jamison had faced many crises in the past, but this one was so unexpected and terrible, for a long moment, he was unable to say anything. Then his hard, ruthless mind moved into action.