Jenna Season 1: The Meeting

Jenna is beautiful, clever, passionate… but falling prey to deception.
She meets Steve halfway across the planet. They part hastily, only to meet again by chance, thousands of miles away. But was it truly by chance?
And who is Steve, really?

Chris Loseus is writing a series for the long haul. In the first episode, a meeting, a passion. Then Loseus takes things in hand again and pulls us into a love story unlike any other…

Extract
Brisbane, Queensland, Australia




February 13, 2014



Jenna dropped her spoon in the saucer of the delicately worked teacup of Riverview Hotel. She had been lost in thought when the tanned young man had come in. His face was not unfamiliar, she knew that man but where from? Some sweet drowsiness was taking over the barʼs lounge. Warm, late-afternoon light was pouring through the thin louvers that a mild breeze caused to flutter gently against the wide openings overlooking the ocean. It was five oʼclock, and as usual, she was having tea. A surprising ritual for a French native, yet her long sojourns in Australia had left her with the pleasant habit. She took a sip of fragrant liquid as she gazed at the young man with entertained curiosity. She assumed he was about thirty, and noted that his hands, contrary to hers, had not been damaged by sustained manual labour. He hadnʼt yet noticed he was being watched, and thus she kept studying him. His light brown hair was cropped short, for the obvious purpose of causing no trouble. This man likely spent no more than a few seconds per morning in front of a mirror, as the many cowlicks sticking up from the top of his head could testify. She found herself thinking they looked sweet against this serious face, that seemed a bit “out of it”. She peered more carefully. No, out of it was not quite fitting, dreamy would be more accurate a term. He seemed completely lost in thought; indeed, he hadnʼt noticed her yet, although they were alone in the room but for the bartender. She glanced at her own tan legs, standing out against the white fabric of the short skirt that bared the top of her thighs. Most men would have relished the sight, she mused. He hadnʼt—she had not even caught his eye. She wondered what such an individual could be doing in a hotel full of saggy-bellied old men, wandering the corridors with the unpleasant air of having only just momentarily left their sarcophagi. Old lechers, she imagined, flanked by alluring beauties with dull eyes clouded with boredom. It was actually one of those who had summoned her here. She would never have come if not for said manʼs reputation. He regularly made the front page of the tabloids, posing before his stunning Beverly Hills villa, tanning on his magnificent yacht along Franceʼs southern coasts, playing in casinos… So she had accepted the interview, and she didn’t regret it. The man was interested in sharks, and offering her funds for her research. She stretched in delight, her short, slinky T-shirt outlining her small and perfectly-shaped breasts in an arousing manner. Once more, her eyes landed upon the young man with the fine hands, yet this time, their gazes met. He was looking distractedly at her. She noticed that he was not that young. His eyes were framed with tiny wrinkles, fine lines his golden tan caused to stand out.
She was glad to see that her gaze made him look away. She smiled, and the young man, surprised, resumed staring at her.
“Good evening.”
She knew she had a pleasant voice. The man did not seem to react, his eyes were still locked with hers, yet there was no hint that she had just spoken to him.
“Good evening.”
A few seconds had passed between the two greetings. Her interlocutor’s calmness made her feel uncomfortable. Awkwardly, she grasped her cup and took a sip, opened her datebook, flipped through it until she reached her next appointment with a sponsor. Monaco, that’s it, with someone called J.D. Perfect! Find some composure, narrow your eyes… Hmm hmm… M