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…
***
