The Ginger Fox (Part 2)

The wind blew through us, making his hair swirl like a volcano spitting red burning lava. I felt a chill going down my spine. He was still staring at me. My body was getting too stiff, when he spoke:

- A coffee and nothing else?

I nodded affirmatively.

- Uh-hum…

- Why not?

- OK.

- By the way, I’m Roidh.

I relaxed a little bit.

- Roy?

He giggled. I blushed, feeling relieved by his sweet tranquillity. I raised my hand to shake his, still trembling. He felt it, as he held my hand firmly in his.

I told him my name. He just smiled.

There was a hoarding on part of the street and sidewalk, with tall wooden boards, so we had to walk around it. On one of the larger vertical boards there was a stencilled graffiti depicting a fox. The graffiti was very well done and I really liked it.

- This is so beautiful. I love foxes.

- Foxes are scary.

- They are not.

He looked at me and smirked.

- Coffee, right?

- Sure!

***

The Cafe was busy, as most of the times we went there. The waiter smiled when we got in. We had a favourite table by the window and he knew our preference. There was a reserved sign on top of the white linen cloth. We were celebrating. He knew that.

We sat down and the waiter left us alone for a while, to choose our favourite items from the familiar Menu. 

- This is still so amazing. Here we are again in the fanciest Café in town… like the first time…

He smiled. His face was now covered with a thick ginger beard, which made him look even more handsome than before. I was so evidently charmed, I could not stop looking at him.

- How can you still be so charming after all these years?

- Oh. It’s a natural thing on me being a charming and sexy ginger, after all.

- Says who?

- Says I… and you too…

He laughed out loud, as he did that first time, when I told him, while drinking from the small cup of coffee, how sexy I thought ginger men were and how attracted to him I was from the first moment.

- You were so daring and so deliciously crazy. I was really shocked by that statement. I had always been bullied for being a ginger and I really hated being one. But then you come into my life and celebrate that fact as if I were a special gift sent from Heaven.

- My sweet ginger dream man, you are special.

He smiled and changed subject. He hated the demonstration of affection in public as he loathed that mellow conversation.

- Can I have two slices of toast with butter, please? And a macchiato.

The waiter was smiling. He had heard part of the conversation and probably thought it was funny.

- Same for me, please.

When the waiter left, I asked:

- Are we getting fancy?

- With bread and butter? I don’t think so!

We both laughed.

***

 “She thinks life is water

And love, love is a river” *(It’s only Mystery – Eric Serra)

- Close your eyes. Accept that you’re loved.

His hands were warm and his soft touch on my eyelids made me utterly believe how loved I really was. He kissed my front and my closed eyes. I smiled lightly. He kissed my lips, very softly and slowly.

- I hate to see you crying.

- I try not to. You’re so sweet, lover of mine.

He laid on top of me, his legs around mine and his arms and hands around my head with his body heating mine up. He just kissed me over and over again, silently, carefully, affectionately. I surrendered completely to him and to his loving touch… and not only. He took advantage of that… for as long as he could, for as long as I could stand without exploding in a wave of warm pleasure…

***

- You know we are together for such a long time.

- Amazing, isn’t it?

- It is indeed.

- I hope you’re not regretting anything.

- I’m not. Ever. I promise.

- Then, what?

- I think we should do something different. We must celebrate. It’s been such a long time and we deserve this.

- Celebrate? We don’t need to.

- But we must. Who cares if we don’t need to? We can, so we must!

He smiled.

- And you probably know already how.

- Well, I have a suggestion.

- Which is?

- A romantic long weekend in Vienna, perhaps.

- Oh. Are we getting fancy, after all?

- Think about it. No gifts, no worries… just a free weekend, away from everything but fun… and cultural beauty… and us, of course…

He smiled again. I loved when he did: that meant acceptance and that would be a great time away from our normal lives and daily affairs and chores.

***

The city was still waking up when we got to the station and walked into the Café to have something to eat and drink a hot cappuccino. We loved walking the streets early in the morning. It was fresh, like all autumn mornings could be. The leaves were turning into a colourful explosion of every tonality of red, yellow, orange and brown; a feast to the eyes of every soul enchanted with beauty.

Those colours had everything to do with him, his skin and his hair. I’ve never realised I loved the autumnal colours for that reason. I was looking outside and smiling to myself when he giggled.

- What are you thinking about? You’re smiling…

- I’m just happy we are here.

In a short while after that, doors were opening and closing one after the other in a frenzy rhythm that announced the place was alive again and totally ready for one more working day.

We were all set for exploring the city, walking its streets and visiting its autumnal fallen leaves covered parks and boardwalks. I was happy… I was really happy to be there. But most of all I was happy because I was there with him.

He was looking at me. No, he was staring at me… seriously. His face was suddenly grave, his eyes a little different from his normal. He noticed I thought something was happening by his silence. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.

- What is it?

- We need to talk…

***