The Seventh Commandment

"Our eyes met across a crowded room."

So goes the old line from many films and countless cheap novels. In my case it wasn't true. The 'crowded room' part was correct, but I only saw the back of her head. A cascade of hair draped past her waist, and black. So black it seemed to absorb the light. I was hypnotised by it, my gaze fixed upon it. It drew me forward, a silent bidding. I eased myself away from the group I was with and started to edge closer. As I approached, the strands resolved one by one and each one shone. They picked up highlights from the brightly lit room and her hair, though still as black as a moonless night, bounced back tiny sparkles. There were a thousand midnight stars in her hair.

Edged up against the wall of the room, squeezed between the heavy window drapes and the buffet table, I was left alone to feast my eyes on her. I still hadn't seen her face, but I didn't care, I was content. The more I looked the more sparkling colours appeared. Her hair reflected the red dress of a woman behind her. I could see the soft green of the curtains and the myriad stars from the chandelier overhead. I even fancied I saw my own evening dress reflected back to me. I stood unmoving for an age. Not once did she turn around or even glance to the side to give me a glimpse of her face. And then she started to move away, slowly easing her way through the crowd, with a woman and a man, both quite elderly, for companions. They guided her like a precious cargo through to the next room and I started to gather myself to follow them. I had been standing so still for so long that it needed an effort to move my limbs. A slight dizziness made me reach for the table next to me for support and when I looked again, she was nowhere to be seen.

I couldn't understand why I was panicking, but I shook my head to clear it and pushed myself away from the wall and my safe little niche. That was just the wrong time for the others in my party to find me.

"Hey Joss, where did you get to? We've been looking for you. There's someone important who wants to meet you."

It took a moment or two for my brain to get back into gear. I'd almost forgotten why I was here at this social gathering. As always it was business first and last. We were all here to represent our firm as well as to network and mingle with influential people. I was, after all, a senior partner. With mixed feelings, and one last hopeful glance over my shoulder, I followed them. The rest of the evening I managed to concentrate on the job in hand, although I couldn't help scanning the room every so often. But it was in vain, she was gone. Most likely never to be seen again. I had only a brief and partial glimpse of her face to take home with me. Not even a name. And her hair! I felt that I would always remember her hair.

By the time I left and dragged myself wearily into a taxi I was unsteady from too much free wine. I almost spilled onto the pavement outside my apartment block. Somehow, I managed the complicated business of paying the taxi and finding my keys and letting myself in. Finally, I collapsed onto the sofa and kicked off my shoes. All I could see when I closed my eyes was blackness containing a myriad of multi-coloured flickering sparks of light.

I felt dreadful when I woke up several hours later. My head throbbed and my neck ached from sleeping so awkwardly. When I opened my eyes the glare of the sun through the window was like being pierced by a lightning bolt and I quickly clamped them shut again. With half-blinkered eyes I staggered upright and made my way to the bathroom. I sat for an age on the toilet, relieving myself and swilling pain relief down my throat with water. I was thinking about the possibility of going to bed and spending the day there when my phone rang. By the time I'd sorted myself out and actually found the damned thing it had stopped ringing and gone to voicemail, so I let it be. I could listen later, but for now I needed coffee. I began to feel a little more human with nothing but the small domestic chore of making coffee to deal with. I think the painkillers were also beginning to kick in.

As I sat sipping my coffee, I picked up my phone to see who'd rung me. I was immediately wide awake. I'd forgotten that it was Sunday and that Miriam, my long-time partner, was due home today.

"Hi darling, just to let you know I'm just leaving mum's and I'll be back in a couple of hours. Plenty of time for you to tidy up the place and kick out all the little floozies you've had round while I've been away. See you soon, love you loads."

Two hours! I looked around the kitchen in panic. Shit, the place was a mess. Washing up piled in the sink was the major problem. And Miriam was not one to tolerate mess. The 'little floozies' were easier to deal with as there weren't any. That was just a running joke between us whenever either of us was away. She claimed that I spent all the time dragging innocent young girls back to the flat and having my evil way with them. One thing that wasn't a joke was the state of me. I realised I was still wearing the same clothes from the night before and I must look a real state. My dress was badly creased, and I had yet to find the courage to look in a mirror. As I finished my coffee, I made a mental list. Shower first and sort myself out, then the kitchen and, if there was time, some vacuuming. Strangely the thought of some fairly mindless housework was calming.

Two hours later I finally put away the vacuum cleaner and poured myself a fourth cup of coffee. The dishwasher was still on the go, but the kitchen looked respectable at least. Now may be a good time to stop and introduce myself to you properly.

My name is Jocelyn, Joss for short, I think it was only ever my mother who used my full name and then only when I was in trouble. My partner of five years is Miriam. We met on a blind date and got on really well from the start, so much so that we decided she should move in two weeks later. She's a physiotherapist at our local hospital but is currently on a week's leave visiting her mother who's quite ill. You don't need to know about my life pre-Miriam, but I was not the calm and settled person I am now but a bit of a party girl. A combination of work and Miriam slowed me down to the non-domestic goddess I have now become.

I'm a partner in a very specialist firm of insurers. Not for us the boring and mundane contents insurance. Look elsewhere to sort out your car. We do boobs! More accurately we do specialist insurance for the very nouveau rich and the wannabe famous. Those with valuable assets such as their boobs. And hair and hands and feet and ... ahem ... other body parts. We have a few high value porn stars on our books, both male and female. It may all sound very glamorous to you but believe me it isn't. Our clients are a demanding and very fussy bunch who's only saving grace is their ability to pay the high premiums we charge. What it does mean is that I have to spend time at boring parties like I did yesterday, trying to maintain a smile while schmoozing with people I wouldn't give the time of day to, given the choice.

The dishwasher beeped and ground to a silent stop. I eased off my designer kitchen stool and approached it. As I bent to open it, I heard the familiar sound of a key in the front door. Time for the mundane later, Miriam was home. We hugged and kissed in the hallway before she even had time to take her coat off. It had been a week and I was glad to see her back home again. Five years is a long time for me, and the truth is the flat seemed empty without her. In the kitchen later, with her coat off and relaxing after her long drive home she looked around approvingly.

"Someone's been busy," she said, with just the hint of sarcasm, "can I assume the cheap floozies are gone, or at least well hidden?"

"Of course, darling, just don't look under the bed."

I was so happy to see her back, the familiarity of her presence, the banter that was always the same but somehow never boring. The poor neglected dishwasher didn't get emptied until several hours later when we needed plates and cutlery for the Chinese takeaway. We spent the rest of the afternoon in bed 'catching up' so to speak.

Monday morning it was back to work and, for once, I didn't have to deal with any of my more objectionable clients. On Tuesday I had a meeting with one of my much more likeable people, a much older man, who's claim to fame was a lot more justifiable. He was a nice old man who'd been singing in the pubs and clubs for years and had recently had a couple of TV appearances and simply wanted to check his insurance. Easily done and we then spent the rest of our time chatting over a cup of tea. I wish more of them could be like that. A combination of work and Miriam being back home at last kept my mind away from visions of black hair ... almost. Every so often I would find myself blanking out and daydreaming. I would suddenly return to reality and mentally scold myself for such lapses.

When I arrived at work on the Wednesday I was called in to Edgar's office for a meeting. Edgar was the senior partner and founder of the firm and it was he who had offered me my partnership after ten years of working for him. He was a lovely old man but was snapping at the heels of his pending retirement but was reluctant to let go completely. He wanted to discuss a potential new client with me.

"She's a singer," he explained, but went on quickly when I raised my eyebrows in despair, "but not one of those manufactured ones I know you dislike."

My ears perked up when I heard this. "Tell me more," I prompted him.

"She's had to work hard to get where she is today," he said, "doing the club circuit for years before finally being spotted. Her agent is sending her to us to discuss her insurance. She used to be with some two-bit firm, but they went under recently and he thinks it needs re-doing anyway. I thought you'd be ideal to have her. You're more her age. I'm still a Frank Sinatra fan." He chuckled and blushed when he said that.

"No problem," I told him, "what's her name?"

"Madi or Mada or something like that," he said, "her family is from India. Hang on I have a recording of her they sent to me." He opened a drawer in his desk and rummaged around and came out with a disc in a plastic case. "Better have a listen before you meet her. She's coming in this afternoon at two."

We discussed a few other things and then I left and went back to my office. I made myself a coffee and then sat down and put the CD in my computer. It only contained two audio files, so I simply clicked on the first one and sat back, coffee in hand. When her voice first rang out, I sat up straight again. Her voice was low and slightly gruff, but it commanded my attention. The song was simple in the extreme but the emotion she brought to its performance was staggering. It sort of sucked you in and made you feel the anguish of the forbidden love that the song was all about. When it was over, I sank back in my chair and blew out my cheeks. Wow!

The song was about two lovers, barred by both sets of parents from being together, with the singer watching the grief from a distance. I listened again and this time realised that it was totally without a hint of gender. There was no mention of 'he' or 'she' anywhere in the lyrics which seemed to add to its beauty and poignancy.

I clicked on the second file. This time both the song and the voice were lighter in mood. The lovers were together albeit briefly and secretly, pondering what the future might hold for them. It was a far more optimistic song. I sat in silence after that, letting the feelings drift through me.

When I got back after lunch, I found a large brown envelope on my desk. It contained all the paperwork from her previous insurer. It was a simple contract with none of the usual weird riders or demands. It gave her name simply as Madur. Just the one word, no sign that it was a first or second name. I guessed it was Indian in origin, but I wasn't really sure. The phone rang just as I finished reading it. It was reception telling me that a 'Ms Madur' was here to see me, and I asked them to send her through. I stood up and went to the door and opened it just in time to find Penny, our receptionist, walking toward me followed by my new client. I took one look and I knew immediately.

I gripped the door handle firmly to steady myself and my hand shook slightly as I extended it to greet her. Somehow, I managed to speak and welcomed her. I stood aside and motioned her into my office. I watched spellbound as she passed me. Her hair was as I remembered. The colour of night and straight, cascading like a waterfall over her shoulders and down to her waist. I closed the door and paused momentarily to catch my breath. I swallowed hard, trying to regain a sense of professionalism before I went to sit down behind my desk.

Finally, I got a good look at her face and ... fuck, she was beautiful. Her light brown skin bore a minimum of makeup. It needed so little as her features spoke for themselves. She smiled at me, showing two rows of neat white teeth. I almost expected one of those 'special effect' twinkles to appear. Her lips were picked out with a pale shade of red that worked perfectly as far as I was concerned. She was wearing a pale blue skirt suit with a high-necked white blouse underneath. To distract myself I picked up her old contract.

"Welcome, Ms Madur, I'm very pleased that you have decided to join us."

"Well, I had to do something. My agent insists on me having insurance and recommended your firm. And, please, call me Madur, everyone else does,"

Her voice was deep and dark and husky. It flowed through the room like warm chocolate, and I could detect her singing buried behind it.

"Of course, Madur, that's much more informal, and please call me Joss," I managed to reply and smile at the same time. "I've read your previous contract and although its rather basic it seems to cover everything. Is there anything you wish to alter or add to it?"

"My agent says I should increase the amount of insurance. I've been on TV a few times recently and he thinks my value has gone up because of that."

"That's no problem although that will inevitably increase the premiums."

"I think we were working on that assumption, Joss."

Just the sound of my name in her voice sent little electric tremors running through me. To distract myself I put the papers back into the envelope. We continued for a while discussing the details before I sat back. Time to be bold.

"May I just say, Madur, I've listened to the songs you sent us, and I'm surprised it's taken so long for recognition to reach you. I found them very moving."

"Thank you, Joss, that's very kind of you. But now if you will excuse me, I have another meeting to go to."

"Of course, Madur, I'll get this written up and delivered to you by this evening."

"That would be ideal," she replied, standing up, "I'm at the Imperial, not far from here."

A few more niceties and shake of hands and she left, her hair swaying with each step she took. When the door closed, I sat back down a breathed a huge sigh. I realised my pussy was wet. For fuck's sake I was a happily married woman, but she had got me going like no one else had done for years. But she was both forbidden and unattainable fruit. I spent several minutes, clenching and unclenching my thighs before I got myself together. I picked up the old contract and went out to see my secretary. I asked her to type out a new contract, outlining the changes that needed to be made before returning to my office and closing the door.

I managed little else that afternoon and it was almost going home time when my secretary knocked and came in with a large manilla envelope.

"The new contract for Ms Madur," she said, "shall I get someone to courier it to her?"

"It's okay," I told her, "give them to me and I'll drop them off on the way home."

She put them on my desk with a curious expression on her face, left and shut the door behind her. I sat there just looking at the large envelope in front of me. Why had I said that? Normally we would send it with a courier or post it. Why did I offer to deliver it personally? I simply knew that I had to look into those eyes once more. I picked up the phone and dialled my home number.

"Hi, darling," I said, trying to keep my voice level. "I'll be a bit late home, I have a meeting to go to."

It wasn't quite a lie but close enough to make me feel guilty. Miriam was understanding as she always was. I waited as the rest of the office slowly gathered their things and left. Finally, there was silence. I picked up the envelope with both hands and held it like a sacred text. Closing my eyes, I imagined her face. That familiar twitch between my thighs came back again. Summoning my courage, I stood up, stuffed the contract into my bag and walked out of the office.

There was no point in getting my car, the Imperial was only a short walk away. The early evening streets were alive with commuters, jostling each other in their eagerness to get home. I walked through the familiar streets feeling both excitement and fear. Was I being crazy? Probably, but I was now set on my course. The imposing façade of the Imperial came into view. It was the largest and grandest of the hotels that the city had to offer. The lobby oozed elegance and the perfectly made-up girl behind the desk simply exuded efficiency.

"I have a contract for Ms Madur," I said, taking the envelope out of my bag.

"Certainly, Miss, one moment please."

She picked up the phone and dialled a number, paused and then spoke into the phone quietly. After a brief conversation she turned back to me as she put the phone down.

"She says to go straight up," she told me, "it's room 304. Third floor."

She smiled at me and turned her attention to someone behind me. Alone in the lift I struggled to control the fluttering in my tummy. The lift came gently to a halt and pinged as the doors opened. The corridor was lined with identical doors. The soft carpet underfoot muffled all sound as I walked along reading the numbers on the doors. 304, there it was. It could be so easy. I could simply knock and then hand over the contract and then run away. Except ... except I knew I couldn't. I was somehow locked into this. I tapped lightly on the door.

There was a delay that seemed to last forever. Then I heard the sound of the door being unlocked. It swung open and she was there. Her face broke into a smile when she saw me.

"Joss, I was hoping it might be you. Do come in."

She stood aside invitingly. Dumbly I walked past her into the room. It wasn't what I would have expected. Most of my clients would have wanted, or demanded even, the best of the suites with all the trimmings plus as many extras as their egos required. This was a quite standard room although the Imperial did not really do 'standard'. The thick carpet led into an impeccably decorated room. Off to one side was a large bed. I tried, but failed, to ignore its presence. The main area of the room was taken up with two armchairs facing a pair of glazed doors that led out onto a balcony. Through the flimsy curtains that billowed in the light breeze I could see the cityscape beyond. She was wearing a hotel issued towelling bathrobe and I tried desperately not to imagine what she was, or wasn't, wearing underneath it.

I turned when I reached the middle of the room and was surprised at how closely she had followed me. I could have reached out and touched her, leaned forward and kissed her. That thought surfaced like an unbidden hallucination. I held the envelope in front of me, a shield against my desire.

"I ... I have your contract," I blurted out, holding it out to her.

As she took it from me, I felt naked and vulnerable without its protection. She glanced at it and then tossed it nonchalantly onto one of the armchairs.