Days of Winter by Cynthia Freeman Read Free Book Online

eyes, hiding her amusement, and her envy for the person fortunate enough to be loved by someone as attractive and virile as Rubin Hack.
    Rubin looked at his watch; it was ten. Opening the door to the bedroom once again, having done so impatiently for the last few hours, he saw Magda’s arms stretching above her head as she yawned away the last traces of sleep. He went to her, sat on the edge of the bed and drew her against him. She accepted his kisses, then pushed herself gently away. “Don’t become too amorous, I haven’t brushed my teeth.”
    Rubin laughed.
    “What are you laughing at?”
    “You.”
    “Why, am I so humorous?”
    “Yes, and so practical.”
    “Practical?”
    “Yes. How can you think of anything as unimportant as brushing your teeth at a moment like this? I’ve been up for hours waiting for you to wake up.”
    “That, dear Rubin, is your problem. Why weren’t you here beside me, instead of wandering about?”
    “I had things to do.”
    Magda went to the bathroom, leaving Rubin alone on the bed. Suddenly she turned and stood framed in the doorway. “How can I brush my teeth? I don’t have a toothbrush.”
    “Use mine.”
    “How do I know you don’t have a bad disease?”
    “That’s a risk you’ll have to take.”
    Now Magda laughed.
    “What’s so funny?” Rubin asked, smiling.
    “You, monsieur. Funny man.”
    Bowing theatrically, extending her arms, she spoke: “Let me present, ladies and gentlemen, Monsieur Rubin Hack, the clown of Paris, and his nude partner, the exquisite, the talented, the cultured Mademoiselle Magda Charascu, who will attempt to clean her teeth with her lover’s brush … a feat attempted only by the famous Madam Fifi of the—” Quickly Rubin picked her up, circled the room with her in his arms, kissing her over and over again. “Darling, not now,” he said, whispering, “not now . To hell with your teeth. I want you this moment.” Biting his ear gently she whispered back, “Not till after I’ve gone to the … how do the English say? W.C.?”
    When she returned, Rubin was already in bed, hardly able to control himself. She climbed in and lay on top of him, straddling his body. Her breath, smelling fragrantly of peppermint, mingled with the scent of French cologne quickly splashed under her arms, behind her knees and between her legs. As he entered her, deeper and deeper, his only thought was for their love never to end.
    When they finally lay spent, Magda abruptly sat up. “I’m starved,” she said. “Do you never intend to feed me? We haven’t eaten since early yesterday. Now I’m going to take a bath, and when I’ve finished you’d better find me something to eat, or tonight you sleep on the sofa. Don’t laugh, that’s a promise.”
    Imagine having a bath all one’s own, Magda thought. She lathered her body with French bouquet of lavender soap, then immersed herself in the soothing water. As she relaxed, her eyes wandered around the large room, all mirrored and marbled. They came to rest on the tall stained glass window, each piece carefully put together like a mosaic. She was fascinated with the voluptuous figure of a girl dipping her toes gracefully into a lily pond. The flowers and trees around her were a profusion of muted colors, looking almost ethereal as the sun filtered through the colored glass. When Rubin bought her the petite maison , she would insist on such a window.
    Rubin, Rubin … what god had brought him into her life? She hadn’t meant to fall in love, but it was now far beyond her control. Except he would be gone soon … and after what they had shared … who could replace him? And with the thought came a deep pain and melancholy. Rubin had said, “It’s more happiness than most people have in a lifetime.” Why couldn’t she find enough comfort in that? But she couldn’t be so damn philosophical. It was Rubin she wanted, as well as the exquisite stained glass window, the petite maison , the clothes. Yes, damn