Tampa Gold Pt. 01

Prologue

Singapore - 8 September 2001

It had been only six weeks since he left, but Camilla had missed him. She didn't think that his absence would be so heartfelt. She was always busy at work and thought that would keep her mind occupied, but she soon learned that work alone was not enough.

Not that they were even a couple, and they certainly didn't live together. On her insistence, they had kept their affair a secret lest it affect how others treated them at work. One and a half years later, they were still both officially available.

Eighteen months of sneaking around and turning down the advances of others. Both constantly refusing the attempts at matchmaking by office meddlers. Never able to be seen in public together and never able to go on a date.

Though intimacy had been more than adequate, it had been about more than sex. He consistently impressed Camilla with his inventive abilities. She thought that seeing him was like constantly being on a third date. Every time, it felt wonderful and new.

Perhaps that was why their relationship hadn't gotten dull or routine. Not being a couple, they had not yet had time to grow too accustomed to or take each other for granted. And he still felt the need to push the boundaries of their sex lives.

When her aeroplane touched down at the airport, Camilla collected her bags and made her way to the taxi stand. The humidity hit her like a wet towel the second she stepped out of the terminal. It was early spring back home, but the heat here was more than just a seasonal difference. It was with relief that she climbed into the back of the air-conditioned and clean taxi moments later.

Giving the driver the address, Camilla sat back and watched the city reveal itself. Not knowing what to expect, its modernity and apparent cleanliness pleasantly surprised her. Modern skyscrapers and freeways carved themselves a place in the tropical cityscape, yet appeared entirely natural.

As the rainforest gave way to the city centre, Camilla was no less impressed by the harmony with which the concrete and glass had integrated into the landscape. It was as though someone had built a city, then planted a garden around it.

When she finally arrived at her destination, the contrast with what she saw earlier could not have been starker. A white wedding cake of a building, the hotel almost stood in defiance of time and modernity. It radiated regal elegance and old-world appeal while retaining a special ambience and charm.

A doorman resplendent in a gold tasselled, white uniform topped by a turban opened her door. Camilla followed him inside to escape the heat. The interior was just as impressive as the forecourt. White marble and dark teak fittings framed the entire lobby, while stunning, golden chandeliers floated above the soaring ceilings.

Her check-in was swift and, as the receptionist handed her a key, he motioned her to follow the bellboy to the room.

Glancing at her watch, Camilla said, "Take my bags to the room, please. Can you direct me to the Long Bar?"

Chapter 1

Bathurst - Tonight 2023

Now that the sun had set, the sweltering heat of the day had given way to a pleasant evening. On the horizon, the sky danced with electricity as the impending storm drew ever closer. The week long heatwave that engulfed large parts of the country was about to end.

Despite the abundance on the street of mature, shady trees, residents had stayed indoors until now. As the intensity of the heat faded, the allure of stretching one's legs after a day of confinement brought people out of their homes. As the neighbourhood was safe, the idea of an overdue, pleasant evening stroll entered the thoughts of many.

Except for one. For her, the idea of being outside a moment longer filled her with dread. She had spent the last hour before dusk trying to devise a plan that would get her off the street. To her, the idea of an evening stroll in the pleasant suburban surrounds of her home town now seemed like a waking nightmare.

She only had one option left, and that would be an act of the utmost desperation. And yet, all she had to do was walk up to the door, knock, go in and all her problems would go away. Ten steps and knock. That was it. How hard could it be?

She had done it countless times before. Why not once more? But she'd spent the last ten minutes trying to think of any other way out of her current situation other than knocking on that door.

For sure, the occupant of the house would ask questions. But she knew how she would cut them short. She'd thought about this, her mind focused laser like on her problem. You can do it, she told herself.

She had almost built up the courage to go in when she heard voices and quickly ducked down. Two women were having a conversation that was growing steadily more audible. Two older women, if her ears didn't deceive her. Rambling on about someone's children, grown children, judging by the topics discussed. Someone had married the wrong person or something like that.

She could see them now and knew the chief talker. Mrs Snyder from three doors down. They were on speaking terms and Mrs Snyder was quite a pleasant person; she thought. For a moment, she was relieved to see a friendly face. She smiled, then remembered that bumping into someone she knew at this moment would be the absolute worst thing that could happen.

Try to shrink into the shrubbery, she told herself, lie prone and reduce your profile. But lying flat now would slow her down if she had to run. Leaves and dirt would then also cover her. It was the last thing she needed right now. Especially if she was going to execute her plan.

She poised herself in a sprinter's stance, bowed her head to obscure her face, and froze. In a former life, they had taught her the five "S's" of concealment: shine; shape; spacing; silhouette; and shadow. Fives S's and an M: movement. If she stayed as still as a statue, anyone looking directly at her might mistake her for one. It was a long bow to draw, given her current complexion was about as far from a statue as could be possible, but at that moment she knew blind hope was literally all she had left.

In fact, her plan now depended entirely on blind hope. Even her journey here had been, in part, by instinct and not design. As she had worked her way silently through the sultry summer night, she had accidentally gravitated toward the familiar.

Mrs Snyder and her companion's voices grew louder until they sounded so close that they could have reached out and touched her. Her greatest chance of discovery was now! And yet, in a moment, they would have passed and had their backs to her as they walked on by. After that, she could have done silent cartwheels behind them and they would be none the wiser.

The feeling of imminent danger terrified yet excited her. Little prickles of perspiration beaded up on her skin. She shook as adrenaline and endorphins coursed through her system. And, as the voices reached their crescendo, she felt her sex tighten so much she thought she might pee. Pee or something else, she didn't know.

And then it happened. The thing that she hadn't expected. The voices stopped. But they didn't stop talking. They had stopped moving.

"They need to trim that hedge. And the weeds, they are letting the place go," said Snyder's companion.

"Oh, this is the house I was telling you about, June," Snyder hushed. "They're the ones getting the divorce!"

It was all she could do to stop herself at that moment from leaping up and yelling at Mrs. bum-face Snyder to fuck off and mind her own business. How her marital situation had become the focus of anyone else's conversation was quite beyond her? Was she the laughingstock of the entire town? Had they all been politely two-faced to her one moment, then gossiping as soon as she turned her back? Only that morning she had had Mr Snyder in her clinic! Did he get warned not to catch divorce germs by his bitchy wrinkled old crow of a wife before he came?

She swore under her breath while she stared at the ground in front of her. If she got out of this, she would take her revenge on Mrs. bloody Snyder and her anonymous friend. Who was she, anyway? What sort of stupid name was "June"? There couldn't be too many of those in town. She'd find her. How hard could it be? No, she was going to get out of this. As soon as she got home, she would think of a way to get back at the Snyders and the Junes of this world.

Finally, the voices drifted off. She knew she had no other options left and, with her temper up, she guessed she could easily pass off her nerves as confidence.

Pausing, she scanned once more for any silent pedestrians. Seeing none, she rose slowly from her crouch up to her full height. Looking around, she dusted herself off, hoping to make herself look presentable. If all went as planned, she wouldn't need long. Just in and get on with it before he asked too many questions.

She took a step out of her hiding place and onto the lawn. Wiping the soles of her bare feet of soil, she noticed the proliferation of weeds where once there had been none.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," she muttered, rolling her eyes.

Walking onto the flagged path, she took the two steps up to the wooden veranda and stepped up to the front door. She rang the bell without hesitation. There was no point hoping that he wasn't home. His car was in the driveway and music blared from within. If he hadn't been there, she could have lifted the pot plant and taken the spare key fifteen minutes ago. Letting herself in, she could have taken what she needed and been on her way. No one in the entire world would have known what had happened to her that evening. She had let happen to her; she thought, correcting herself. No one but the one person she wouldn't be able to stop herself from telling. The one person she wanted to know. The person who would listen and encouraged her to do it all again. With that thought, the terror of the last hour left her, and she felt something else entirely; exhilaration.

"Good," she said out loud. "You need to be on right now!"

As her door opened, the sound of the music increased and she felt the cool of the air-conditioning flow over her. The sudden replacement of warmth with cool air caused her skin to tighten and tingle, making her shudder.

The man looked at her with wide eyes, shocked at her appearance. "Alison?" her husband asked.

"Hello Henry," Alison said in as sultry a voice as she could muster. "Do you mind if I come in?"

"Sure," he said. "But why are you naked?"

Alison didn't answer. She closed her eyes and stepped inside.

How had it come to this?