Tempo by Kelley Maestas Read Free Book Online Page B

take out one toilet paper scroll and my borrowed pen and begin to sketch my vision. Looking down I see that I have captured the essence of the completed space. Rolling up my paper, I place it into my pocket. Standing up, I smooth my skirt and readjust to my heels. Walking back to the elevator I head down one floor and begin my self-guided tour.
    Nearly two hours later, I emerge on the ground floor. The lobby is circular and everything connects to this vast space. If you are standing at the entrance, the casino is directly across from the grand entrance. The casino area is roped off and burly security guards sit as sentinels on both sides of the entrance. My eyes scan the area and I see that the lounges flank the casino with two on each side. No graphics mar the walls; nothing gives any hint to what lays inside. The mystery draws you in. Walking into each of the lounge areas I can see that careful thought and planning have gone into each place. The names are written above the bar in the same handwriting, his handwriting. The words Velocity, Pulse, Essence and Soul are inscribed above the bars in each of the four lounges. The spaces vibrate with their own energy making the names unnecessary. Tingles run down my spine. I totally understand his mea ning of Tempo. You feel it, but it’s more than the beat. I get it. Most people won’t. It’s genius really and suddenly I feel excited to be in on the “secret.”
    Standing in the center of the lobby with my head tilted severely up, I take in the wonder of the glass masterpiece. It’s completely hand made, a skilled artisan has created each prism. The lengths vary from a few inches to several feet. Each piece is perfectly weighted and flawless. The sculpture is eight feet at its widest near the ceiling and tapers down to a single prism. The glass I originally thought was aqua is actually a combination of colors. The blues, greens and gold of the glass reflect the light and the result is breathtaking. Feeling a tingle run up my spine, I turn my head to the right and see him staring at me.
    “She is a thing of beauty.” He states.
    “She is magnificent, a work of art.”
    “Yes, she is, I felt it when I first saw her.”
    Looking his way I get the feeling that he is not referring only to the sculpture. Blushing, I lower my head. He reaches out and places his right palm firmly against the small of my back, guiding me toward the elevator. His touch generates a burning sensation that runs straight to the juncture between my thighs. My knees feel weak and I stumble, grabbing my left elbow he steadies me.
    “How did you find me?"
    “Security cameras.”
    Frowning, I break from his grip and put some distance between us. The loss of his touch leaves me with a hollow feeling. “Were you stalking me?” I ask.
    Laughing, he rolls his eyes and leans against the elevator wall. “It’s twelve-twenty and you were supposed to return for a twelve o’clock lunch.  I asked security to locate you. I thought you might be lost. When they told me you were in the lobby, I decided to come get you myself.”
    Looking at the control panel I realize that we are standing still on the ground floor. I reach over to push the button and our fingers touch. I pull mine back quickly feeling like I had just been burned. The elevator shutters as it ascends to the third floor. Looking in his direction, I consider the man in front of me.
    Within seconds we are once again in the foyer of the third floor. Michael stands aside and lets me lead. He is such a gentleman! Rolling my eyes, I lead the way to the conference room. In the center is a linen draped table that sits fully adorned with china. The designers from Chicago and Los Angeles are already seated. Two empty seats remain. Michael pulls out my chair and I sit. He walks to the other side of the table and seats himself.
    “I took the liberty to order lunch for us. Our chef has prepared a simple chicken Caesar salad, fresh bread and a light desert of