Flowers are Always a Good Idea

Perception is more powerful than reality. This truth is not lost on me as I observe the furtive, and probably jealous glances eyeing the flowers I'm carrying. The looks are subtle and hurried and follow the same pattern -- bouquet, eye contact, polite smile. They last a second but are filled with inference and yearning: 'whoever's receiving those is a lucky lady'; 'how nice to feel so adored'; 'wish someone would bring me flowers'. For a few moments of my commute I am, in the eyes of these strangers, thoughtful, kind, romantic. I like that. I am all those things and I know Iris will adore her flowers. She loves it when I surprise her, and the whole Irises for Iris thing has failed to get old in our short time together.

Arriving home, I place my ear against the door, as I've become accustomed to doing recently. Hearing nothing on the other side I insert my key. I'm excited to see Iris's reaction.

"Darling, I'm home."

Stepping into the apartment, ensuring the double cylinder deadbolt is locked securely behind me, I don't wait for an answer. She never acknowledges me until we're in the same room.

"I've got a surprise for you..."

I'm singing the words as I step out of my shoes--Iris is fastidious about shoes indoors--it's been a good day and flowers should make it a better evening. Things have been strained these past few days, but these should do the trick.

Approaching the bedroom, a familiar coiled tension sits low in my chest and I stop, pausing to fill my lungs before concentrating on a slow exhale. Nudging the door, I stand out of view, holding the flowers in the empty doorway.

"For you, my love!" The words sounded romantic in my head, but spoken they seem silly and dramatic. Stepping into view I continue, "It felt like you were overdue...do you like them?"

Seeing her, I'm struck, as I always am, by how beautiful she is. She's wearing the night dress she knows I love--an emerald green, silky thing, short with white lace trim. It looks perfect against her tanned skin. Her dark hair is disheveled and she's clearly been crying. She looks so sweet. So vulnerable.

She blinks, forcing a smile and nodding her approval.

"Do you? I'm so pleased." The mattress is warm as I sit next to where she's lying starfish-like across the bed. "I wasn't sure how you'd feel about the colour but they're pretty in black aren't they?"

She nods again, eyeing the Bearded Irises I've placed beside her.

"Did you have a good day, sweetie? I finally closed the Henshaw account. I think it made Susan jealous 'because she was a real bitch for the rest of the day."

Iris stares into my eyes and I note her smudged eyeliner.

"I couldn't wait to come home to you. I've missed you so much."

My words are heartfelt and I stroke her face affectionately. Iris's tearstained cheek is soft, and her tears, sweat and saliva combine to make her grey gag appear black.

"Did you miss me too, darling?"

She hesitates before nodding, eyes wide, a faint smile fading from her cheeks.

"God, you're beautiful. I'm so glad I found you."

Moved by the sentiment, her eyes clasp shut, her chest rising and falling in a quick, rhythmic fashion.

"Don't cry, my love. We did find each other. That's all that matters."

I lean in, kissing her forehead. Her odour is oppressive and the stale air, thick with July heat does her no favours.

"Would you like to be untied? You could probably do with a shower, couldn't you?"

Iris's sobbing subsides and she looks at me before looking away. Sensing her embarrassment, I'm careful not to sound like I'm mocking.

"And it seems my flower had an accident... Don't worry, we'll get you cleaned up." 

Rising to my feet, I remove my blazer, placing it atop the bottom bedpost before untying the ankle attached to the same wooden stump. She slips easily out of the rope's loop. I'll make that tighter tomorrow.

Making my way around the bed, Iris is still, only her eyes suggesting signs of life as she follows my movements. I untie her foot and she uses it to rub her other leg. In doing so her night dress rises and I can see she isn't wearing underwear. The little minx.

I'm about to untie her wrists when the bedside clock beeps its hourly notification.

"Would you like the TV on for a while? We could watch a quiz show? Or maybe the six-o-clock news?"

I don't wait for a response, instead picking up the remote and pointing it at the TV. Static electricity punctures the airless room as the theme to some teen drama kicks in. Turning to Iris, she's shaking her head frantically, urgency in her eyes. She wants the news. I love how much we have in common.

Pressing '3' on the remote reveals a pretty newsreader introducing the story at the top of the bulletin:

         ...are appealing for witnesses after a woman was abducted from an North London street last...

I turn to Iris but she's staring straight ahead, absorbed by the TV.

...believed to be in her thirties, was grabbed close to Victoria Park after being approached by a silver...

I turn to Iris again, but she doesn't acknowledge me. She's concentrating hard, straining to take in every word.

...is thought to be a white male, while his accomplice is described as--

"We shouldn't watch this, pumpkin...this horrible news. Do you want something else or should I switch off?"

...believe the victim may have known her abd--

I switch the TV off and turn to Iris who's peering into the darkness of the screen with unchanged intensity. When she eventually turns to me, an expressionless gaze etched into her soft features, time seems to slow as we wait for each other to break the silence.

"Look, Iri-- "

Without warning, she begins kicking and flailing, her muffled cries piercing the quiet room. 

"Babe, don't... I know that was horrible but I'm sure this woman will be found safe and well."

My words have no effect and Iris continues lurching and jerking, contorting herself into impossible positions.

"Iris, come on. Stop."

Still she struggles, eyes desperate, hair wild, as she attempts to break her shackles.

"Iris! Stop, will you? I love you. Everything is fine."

I approach her, seeking to comfort, to reassure. But she's thrashing around, kicking out erratically and my proximity lands me a sharp heel to the groin. I can't help crying out.

"For fucks sake! What's wrong with you? Why do you have to spoil everything? Look at the nice flowers I bought you. Shall I take them away, tie you up again? Then you'll have something to worry about!"

Iris ends her struggle as abruptly as she began, her breaths quick and shallow. I knew she wouldn't risk losing her flowers.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I didn't mean that." I straighten up, massaging away the dull ache. "I know it was only an accident. You probably want to make it better, don't you?"

Loosening my trousers and letting them fall to the floor, I watch her--hair matted against a sweaty brow, breathing still uneven.

"How do you want to do that, sweetie? Should I untie a hand?" I take Iris's trembling fingers into my palm, giving them a reassuring squeeze. "Or would you like to use that pretty mouth? We could do our special cuddle instead, if you prefer?"

Brushing hair from her face, I lay a tender kiss against Iris's neck. Her sharp intake of breath suggests pleasure. Encouraged, I stroke down her body, settling between her legs. I can feel her heat. It's obvious what she wants, as she lies rigid with anticipation, eyes shut tight, no doubt imagining the fun we're going to have.

I knew flowers were a good idea.