Bewitched in Budapest (Xcite Romance) Read online

  On the yellow tram curving and jangling through the elegant city streets, I asked János about his life.

  ‘I do things,’ he said vaguely. ‘I have property. I start many businesses but Hungarian economy is bad, you know?’

  ‘I’d heard. What kind of businesses?’

  ‘I start a bar, but it fail. Then a restaurant. I think of new ideas, good ideas, but is hard in this city – there is so much rules and paperworks. I want to build stuff, make things good for Budapest.’

  ‘Budapest is very beautiful,’ I commented, looking out of the window at the Parisian-style boulevards and grandiose architecture. ‘Have you always lived here?’

  ‘Of course. I can’t live nowhere else. You are from London, like Jodie?’

  ‘Near London.’

  ‘And you run away to Budapest.’

  I pursed my lips. He had that right. But he didn’t have a right to know. I was saved by the tram bell, as it glided to a halt at the gates of a vast and lushly green park.

  ‘The pool is in the park?’ I asked, following János into the green oasis. ‘Is it outdoors?’

  ‘Indoors and outdoors,’ he said. ‘It’s a spa. Water is always warm, even people go there in the snow.’

  ‘Sounds brilliant! We don’t have many outdoor pools in England.’

  ‘In Hungary, they are everywhere.’ He smiled down at me and pointed at an amazing building over to the right, like a child’s version of a fairy tale castle. A child whose favourite colour was yellow.

  ‘It’s there.’

  ‘No way! That’s a swimming pool?’

  ‘Come and see.’

  Chapter Two

  HE PAID FOR US both and then we divided to get changed, disappearing into the fairy tale palace, which was spookily dark and old inside.

  We met again on the terrace outside, overlooking three vast pools, gorgeously blue-green and already dotted with swimmers at this early hour.

  I made an enormous and concerted effort not to look at what might be contained inside János’ trunks. Below them stretched tanned, limber legs while above that same expanse of chest I had admired earlier drew my eyes toward it like a child’s to candy. I kept my gaze valiantly above shoulder level as he strolled over, though actually it was more a swagger than a stroll with a hip-swaying action that threatened to break my resolve and force my eyes downwards.

  ‘You like to swim?’ he asked once he was within earshot.

  For some reason, I thought he’d said “swing” instead of “swim” and I stared at him, mouth flapping, until I realised that my mind was playing insane tricks on me, then I giggled like a goof and said, ‘Oh … yeah.’

  He led me into one of the end pools. The water was like a warm bath, comforting, with a saline aroma that made me think of the sea. In the centre, a huge spa bubbled, popular with older swimmers easing their aching joints.

  ‘Come to the big pool – I race you.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not a brilliant swimmer.’

  ‘I let you go first then. Go on. I count to 30, then I follow.’

  We spent an hour in races and games which eventually turned a little frisky. I was enjoying myself and this heavenly forgetting of my life so much that I didn’t care when János began splashing me, then trying to duck me or grab various limbs when I tried to get past him. The laughter was infectious and freeing and the sheer exhilaration of indulging in teenage-style horseplay with a handsome man in a beautiful place carried me far beyond my normal reservations.

  I found myself held against him, my leg trapped by his, my arm twisted while we writhed together, slippery and steaming, water streaming down our faces. I tried to slither out of his grip, squealing and struggling, but he was so strong and suddenly I felt a bulge in his trunks bumping against my hip, and I turned cold and realised that I was behaving completely inappropriately.

  ‘Get off, get off,’ I urged, stilling my body so that he might understand that the play-fight was over. ‘Please, stop.’

  He relaxed his grip on me and ducked down, searching my face for a clue as to what might have gone wrong. ‘Hey, you are OK? Is only fun. Do I hurt you?’

  ‘No, no, I’m fine.’ But my breathing told a different story. I was gasping like a landed fish.

  ‘Look, come to the spa. Let’s calm.’

  The spa soothed my troubled mind and my aching body, but the presence of János at my side prevented me from floating into the bubble-filled blankness I craved.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly, tipping his head back to rest his neck on the marble wall.

  ‘You don’t have to be sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.’

  ‘So what happen? We are have fun and then …’ He clapped his hands. ‘No fun.’

  ‘For a moment, I forgot to be careful.’

  ‘Why you want to be careful? You think I get you pregnant, playing game in pool?’

  I laughed despite myself.

  ‘No, is not funny. I try to make you cheer-up-it-might-never-happen and you think I try to murder you.’ His face was like thunder, his lower lip protruding beneath the moustache.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. It just felt for a minute that things were getting out of hand.’

  ‘Out of hand?’

  ‘Out of control.’

  ‘Oh. Me?’

  ‘No, me. I was losing control of myself.’

  He turned to me, lowering his head towards mine. ‘Perhaps you should,’ he said. ‘Too much control can be unhealthy.’

  I bit my lip and looked away. I’d heard that somewhere before.

  ‘I think you must tell me,’ he continued, ‘why you come to Budapest.’

  ‘I must, must I?’ His imperious tone had lit a spark of amusement in my pyre of gloom.

  ‘Yes, or I will go mad of not understand you.’

  ‘You don’t have to understand me!’ But I was smiling. His exaggerated frustration was somehow touching. And could it hurt to talk to someone? Maybe not. I took a deep breath, looked at the old gents playing chess on a floating board at the edge of the pool, turned back to János and said, ‘Two days ago, it was my wedding day.’

  János almost shot out of the water, sending waves of consternation over to a gaggle of elderly ladies, who frowned back at him.

  ‘You are married?’

  ‘No. It was my wedding day, but I didn’t turn up.’

  ‘You stand up at the altar?’

  ‘I left my groom standing at the altar, yes,’ I corrected him with a grimace.

  ‘Ó Istenem,’ he said. He frowned and contemplated the bubbles shooting up from between his thighs. ‘I think you explain?’

  ‘There’s not much to say. I realised … well, I should have said something earlier. Called it off earlier. But, you know, with weddings everything gains this insane momentum.’

  I looked at him to check he was following me. He shrugged, indicating that I should continue.

  ‘You get overwhelmed. Your parents are so excited for you, his parents invite you everywhere, you get buried in flower arrangements, bridesmaid’s dresses, cake decorations, favours, menus, bands …’ I stopped to draw breath.

  ‘I know this,’ he said gently. ‘But your man? You don’t love him?’

  I gestured helplessly, looking up at János with a whole heap of trouble behind my eyes. ‘I don’t. I didn’t. Never did.’

  ‘Then why you say yes to marry him?’

  ‘Because on paper we were the perfect match.’

  ‘On paper? What are you, a ticket or something?’

  ‘I know it sounds stupid. But we met at university, did the same subject, went into the same career, he’s stable, sensible, solvent, we share the same beliefs, the same view of the world, we like the same TV shows, the same music, we even agreed on children’s names before we got married. You see? It seemed wrong not to marry him. It seemed ungrateful. And if I said no, if I held out for someone who made me feel something, what if that person never came? What if I gave up the chanc
e of a lovely life with a lovely man for … nothing?’

  ‘You never feel something for no-one?’ János asked after a pause. ‘Perhaps you can’t. Perhaps you are – what they say – a cold fish.’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head with vigour, so that a spray of drops landed on his face. ‘I know what I’m missing. I knew all along. That’s why I couldn’t go through with the wedding. There was someone once … but I don’t want to talk about him.’

  ‘You want this man again?’

  ‘No, I don’t want him either. I can’t really cope with passion – the fear of it ending is too much. It’s why Dave seemed so right for me. There was nothing frightening, nothing demanding. It was easy and I didn’t have to deal with any feelings.’

  ‘You don’t want to feel nothing? That’s crazy, Ruby. That’s not a life.’

  He put a hand on my shoulder. I sucked in a breath, trying to work up some indignation, or at least strength.

  ‘I’ve made up my mind, János. Relationships aren’t for me.’

  ‘You don’t want to love? That’s sad. What about sex?’

  Danger, danger, attractive man asking you your views on no-strings sex at 45 degrees.

  ‘No,’ I said, as firmly as I could. ‘No sex.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It complicates things. Emotions creep in.’

  ‘Fun creeps in.’ János appeared to struggle to take my avowal seriously. ‘This can’t be right. I just don’t understand. You are religious?’

  ‘No! Just because I’m not interested in sex, it doesn’t make me a nun! I’ve just decided to live a quiet life, that’s all.’ The vehemence of my tone caused some of the spa patrons to look over at us. I hoped they didn’t speak English.

  ‘You can’t never have sex again,’ declared János, as if he were the authority on the subject of my private life. ‘It’s not right.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘If you don’t want it, must be because nobody did it good enough. It’s incredible. Try it with a man who is good lover. You will see.’

  I snorted at his temerity. ‘I’ve had plenty of good sex actually.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  I swallowed the temptation to argue. There was no way I could prove it, after all. Plus, I had the horrible sneaking suspicion that he might be right. ‘Let’s change the subject. Do you come here often?’

  ‘I come more often than you, no matter where.’

  ‘Oh, stop it!’ I splashed water over him. ‘The subject of my sex life is closed.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ he said, splashing me back. ‘And you are going to change your mind. I promise it.’

  ‘I promise you I won’t.’

  ‘The challenge is spoke! Let the games begin.’

  ‘János, there is no game, no challenge. Just forget it. I need a friend here, and you’re the only person I’ve met. Don’t spoil it by making everything about sex.’

  ‘You make everything about sex when you say you will never have it again. But OK. I leave it now. Just for now. You want to get dressed?’

  I was perfectly comfortable in the spa, but suddenly uncomfortable with the amount of my flesh that was visible to János. Obviously sitting next to a near-naked woman in a sunlit pool was going to make him think about sex.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ I said in a hurry. ‘And maybe get a coffee or something.’

  I bade an annoyingly regretful farewell to his rangy, dripping body and perspiration-sheened face. If I ever crossed my own sex strike picket line, it would be for a man like him. But it wasn’t going to happen. Not now, not ever. Quiet life, Ruby, quiet life.

  Fully-clothed again, we sat at a café in the park drinking something called Traubi – fizzy grape juice, I gathered.

  ‘This is an amazing park,’ I sighed. ‘Why doesn’t every city have a place like this?’

  János shrugged. ‘I don’t know another city.’

  ‘Really? You’ve never left Hungary?’

  ‘I went to Czech Republic once. It was OK. I came back.’

  ‘Don’t you want to travel?’

  ‘Yes, I want to travel. But I never can afford it. What is your work, in England?’

  ‘I’m an accountant.’

  ‘Accountant? Now I can use one of these. Always my mathematicals go wrong and my plans fail.’

  ‘Well, I can do the mathematicals. I sometimes wish I was in a more creative line of work. Maybe I’ll start a business one day, like you.’

  He gave his glass of soda a twisted smile. ‘Yeah, I am good at start the business. Better at finish the business.’

  ‘Seems we both have skills that the other could use. Perhaps if you came to England, or I moved to Hungary …’ I tailed off. This was a pointless line of conversation. Neither of these things was ever going to happen, and I didn’t even want them to.

  ‘Then we can do a partnership,’ he said with the wickedest smile I’d ever seen. Winded, I looked away. The way he said partnership made me giddy. ‘Except you don’t want that.’ His hand crept closer to mine. ‘Do you?’

  ‘Oi. That’s enough of that.’

  He sighed and finished the soda. ‘So he is an accountant? Dave?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You like numbers. What else do you like?’

  ‘Oh, lots of things.’ Actually, what else did I like? ‘Um, cinema. Good food. Music.’

  ‘What music?’

  ‘Uh, you know. The good stuff. Some pop, some classical, some jazz.’

  ‘You like gypsy violins?’

  ‘I’m sure I do. We don’t really have them in England but …’

  ‘We have them in Budapest. Many, many gypsy violins. You like, I take you to hear them.’

  ‘Oh – yes. That would be nice. Thanks.’

  ‘No problem.’

  There was the most incredible tension behind the polite conversation, as if János wanted to kick the table aside and sweep me off my feet the whole time he was talking in clipped tones about gypsy violins. Even though there was no possible innuendo to be derived from our words, they all felt laden with intensity and ambiguity. Or was I imagining it? Probably. The whole sex conversation had thrown me off kilter and I was reading heady passion into everything. Silly. Get a grip.

  He took out his mobile phone and spoke incomprehensibly into it for about ten minutes while I finished my drink.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to speak Hungarian,’ I remarked, once he had put it away.

  ‘Is not easy language to learn,’ he conceded. ‘Hello and thank you is always useful.’

  ‘How do you say them then?’

  ‘Hello is jó napot. There is other ways to say too, but this is the best for strangers. Say it.’

  I repeated the sounds, hoping he wasn’t tricking me into learning the Hungarian for something very rude. It seemed like the kind of joke he’d play.

  ‘Goodbye also is useful. You can say viszontlátásra.’

  ‘That’s a bit of a mouthful.’

  ‘Well, we like long words. If you want you can say shorter version – viszlát.’

  ‘Viszlát. And thank you?’

  ‘Köszönöm.’ He stretched an arm across the table and took my hand, shaking it vigorously. ‘Thank you for company today, most charming. Now I must go, I have business.’

  ‘Oh.’ My face must have fallen. He brushed a thumb across my wrist, caressing it, as if he sensed my disappointment. I tried to gather myself. ‘Of course. Sorry. You must be busy.’

  ‘You will miss me?’

  ‘I’ll miss the company.’

  ‘No, you will miss me.’ He winked and dropped my hand. ‘Go and be a tourist now. Enjoy. But you can be back at my apartment for seven, yes?’

  My heart skipped, for some reason. ‘Oh, yes. Seven. I’ll be there.’

  ‘Good.’ He stood and nodded formally, laying down some coins to pay for the drinks.

  Wandering around Pest’s most exclusive shopping streets, gawping through the gleaming
windows, I took my first opportunity to think about this strange introduction to the city and its people.

  I’d known the man a matter of hours, yet I was missing János. If it weren’t for him, would I be missing Dave? Because I most certainly wasn’t. I’d only thought of him twice since touchdown, when János had asked about him. I imagined what it would be like to have Dave by my side. He’d be mentally converting forints to sterling, and then to dollars and Euros, every time he saw a price label in a shop window. He’d bypass anything cultural in favour of mooching around estate agents, comparing the size and quality of the housing on offer with that in the UK. Over coffee and cake we’d discuss the economic downturn and the prospects for Hungarian recovery. Our progress around town would take place at a reassuring plod.

  If János were with me, though … I didn’t know. Anything could happen. Laughter, madness, risk, excitement. Attraction. Sex.

  I had to stop thinking about it. Even if I hadn’t vowed to keep clear of his expressive hands…and his lean hard body … and his electrifying eyes … oh no. A crush. Fucking marvellous. Even if I hadn’t vowed to steer clear of him, men like János were never good long-term prospects. He’d admitted himself that he couldn’t maintain a successful business. He struck me as a butterfly, settling on things that looked bright and shiny for a few moments, then flitting off when he’d had his fill of them. He was a man for a fling. A good time but an ephemeral one. Bet he’d be amazing in bed though …

  On the tram back to the apartment, I couldn’t stop myself imagining how he’d be. He would wrap me tight, lift me up, put me on a table while his fingers worked on shifting my skirt up my thighs. He would growl and laugh and say perverted, delicious things. Oh, I longed to hear perverted, delicious things. Dave had been silent, bar the odd self-conscious remark. ‘How d’you get these off then?’ János would pour vampire-accented filth into my ears while his fingers spoke their language between my pussy lips. Oh God, he would bend me backwards and have me, trousers around his knees, hands on my hips, driving into me while the glasses rattled on the shelves behind. He would make sure I came first, and often, before filling me up with his hot Magyar seed, making me his, showing me that I needed sex and couldn’t live without it …