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domingo, 25 de janeiro de 2015

Demon (Part 3 of 3)



I spent the day thinking about the possible meaning of that little message. My concentration got fuzzy from time to time and I could only have some flashes of memory about the previous night. Fortunately the daily tasks at work were enough to keep me busy without stopping me, however, of thinking from time to time on what could have happened.

I tried to organize, methodically, the little information that was hidden in my mind, as if trying to confuse me even more. I decided I had to make a careful trip in my memory and take some notes, so to organize the facts, but I ended up forgetting that I had taken that decision.

On my way home, I stopped at the take-away at the corner and bought myself some food. I did not want to cook. Moreover, I so much needed a good rest.

I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed the dark circles that surrounded my eyes. They seemed deeper than usual. Perhaps the exhaustion had caused me more than a simple change in my physical appearance. I thought it would be best to lie down and try to get some sleep, hoping maybe a good sleep would improve my memory and my appearance.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I had to try to remember how it all started. I fell asleep before even thinking of anything else.

***

I took the wrong direction, when turning around the corner in one of the corridors of the University campus. It was a mistake I used to make, so I decided to continue through the back corridors to get somewhere anyhow. My sense of direction had always been very poor. Apparently, my ability to choose lovers, too. I met many people: students, professors and general staff personnel, who did not pay much attention to me, because they were too busy with their own problems. I passed over the library and the bar, then took the direction of the restrooms, climbing a flight of few steps and going through a dark iron gate. I could only find the changing rooms with showers and went back to the hall, to try and find the loo. I went back down the same stairs and took a left and then a right exit. There was an entrance to a clearing, leading to the shady woods.

An old woman walked to me. She had dishevelled hair and walked half bent. She offered me something that I refused, but she laughed and told me that I should accept it. Then she gave me a small gift, placing it carefully in the palm of my hand.  I saw that there were some roots of very old trees, hanging down from the dark walls behind her. The sunlight came through a slot on the left, falling on her head, making her hair look whiter and her teeth darker. A worn and almost colourless woollen shawl, was wrapped around her shoulders. 

The woman smiled. She was not scary, in spite of that strange aspect she had. When she explained the reason of wanting to give me the little artefact, I felt a kind of relief.

- It is for protection. So you will never need to fear no evil. it will be useful... soon...

I thanked the woman, put the small gift in my coat pocket and left. She kept on watching me until I disappeared through one of the passageways that led me back to the classrooms. I completely forgot I needed to go to the bathroom. An insistent bell ringing in the distance caught my attention when I walked over a less sunny area in the complex of buildings of the university. 

I looked back to see if I was safe. Something in my subconscious was telling me to be careful. I put my hand in my pocket and realized I had not examined the small object with the attention I should.

The bell rang again, that time closer to me. When I turned around, I bumped into a person coming out of one of the rooms. If it was not for the arms that held me firmly, I would have crashed against his body with some violence, but the man had a quick reaction. Those green eyes then were fixed on mine and I felt a kind of unsettling dizziness. I was face to face with a man whose eyes disturbed me more than I expected. He grinned. The bell rang again. He released my arms and I felt I completely lost my balance and started to fall...

The sensation of falling, for a time longer than the expected caused me a strange discomfort in the stomach. I thought I was fainting. I tried to prevent myself from falling, using my hands, but could not. I felt my vision darken suddenly.

***

I screamed. I jumped out of the bed, in a state of complete distress, trying to protect me from the inevitable. I cursed the darkness when I realized what was happening.

- Damn! It was only a dream!

My body was sweaty and sore. The palm of my hand was sore too, probably because of the pressure of my own nails. My head was still uneasy. The alarm went on and on. I recognized that as the sound of the damn bell in my dream...

Then, as if a door had been opened, I remembered...

***

When we got to the hotel, my sobriety was still fully active. We stayed in silence almost all the time, roughly looking at each other in the elevator that looked too big for the two of us. I remember we called the reception and ordered a bottle of wine, as soon as we got in the room.

The phone rang then, and I found that sound rather unusual, but interesting at the same time. He told me it was his favourite song and sang some verses of it.


Если хочешь идти, иди; если хочешь забыть, забудь

  Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть”…


(Yesli khochesh' idti, idi; yesli khochesh' zabyt', zabud'

Tol'ko znay, chto v kontse puti nikogda uzhe ne vernut...')*

He switched it off without answering it and turned all his attention to me. One thing that caused me a good impression about him, from the beginning, was that when he paid his attention, he definitely did it fully and completely. His green eyes scrutinize me from head to toe, before he touched me, making me feel as if he was undressing both my body and my soul... and it was a very strange feeling, I must confess, though not exactly uncomfortable. No one had ever been as considerate to me as he was at that moment in time.

The wine, which was delivered by the room service, was delicately dry and aromatically palatable. It quickly rose to my head, because I had an empty stomach. I could not even remember the last time I had had some meal that day. I've always had been very aware of how to control the level of alcohol in my blood, so I felt I should go easy on the booze. He noticed it and slowed down too, politely. Being drunk would definitely spoil the purpose of that meeting and we knew it.

***

My phone rang, making my concentration dissipate instantly and immediately. I got carried away by those memories and forgot completely I had a meeting at work very early in the morning.  I was already late and people got worried because I had never been late for a meeting before. I had to run. At least, things were getting clearer, though not completely... yet... in my memory...

***

The meeting went on smoothly, in spite of my delay, for which I had to apologize a million times, feeling guilty for my lack of responsibility to the commitments assumed. I must have shown a very sickly face, because it was soon pushed aside and the meeting continued to its end without further mishaps.

Early in the afternoon, when I left for lunch and needed my wallet, I came again across the little message, written with the strange and familiar handwriting, that had me intrigued so much. I had to unveil that madness, for once and for all, before I lost my already unsettled mind.

Blessed internet that offers us possibilities to research everything and to translate what we do not know, even being in a completely unknown idiom. I found a language tool and tried to reproduce the Cyrillic characters the best I could, with the ones that closer resembled those written in the little message laying on my desk. I changed it to another research tool and found out, after a few attempts, that it was part of a song, which had been very successful a few years before. Then I translated the short message, recognizing it, immediately. My curiosity sometimes goes to extremes.

The words danced in front of my eyes and then the pieces fell into their right places in my head.

"Если хочешь идти, иди; если забыть хочешь, забудь
  Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть... "*

("If you want go, go; if you want to forget, forget
  But be aware that, at the end of the road, there is no turning back... ")

***

When he undressed me the other night, the lights in the hotel room were still on. I let him explore my body, with the same attention he had shown in the car, a few minutes before. He was an expert and I gave myself in, without fear, to his touch.

He was still wearing a white cotton tank top, quite tight to his athletic body, while we were in the preliminaries. I lifted the garment and started exploring his pale torso, which was not excessively toned, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He turned the main light off and left only one of the lamps lit by the bedside. In the dim light, I stripped him of the last piece of clothing and kissed him in the chest, neck and mouth. My hands caressed his back and I had the feeling of having touched something I did not expect.

I ran my fingers, very gently, on what seemed to me to be two scars. I felt his muscles tensed. I turned his body to the side so I could see better. He tried to stop me from exploring that, using some tricks, but I insisted, forcing him to turn around and he finally gave up.

There were two scars, maybe the size of a hand, one on each side of his back, just below the shoulder height. From each of them, very detailed wings were tattooed.

The seriousness with which I looked at them, in the poorly lit room, made him react immediately.

- I did not want you to panic when seeing them...

- Should I be afraid?

- No. Do not be. This is now part of my past only....  Do not ask anything else, please...

He turned out the light and held me, kissing me with a passion that seemed to border some despair. I let myself go for it, this time, completely.

Inside, I had the feeling that a fire ignited and burned all my body up, for all time, that very night... until I fell asleep in complete exhaustion.

I had the vague impression to have seen him leaving the room, still the middle of the night, but I was not really sure.

"Если хочешь идти, иди; если забыть хочешь, забудь...
  (If you want to go, go; if you want to forget, forget)... *

***

After remembering and understanding what had happened, I tried to contact him by telephone, for days, but without success. I always ended up in the message box, but I hung up without saying anything. I did not want to leave him messages. I wanted to talk to him; to hear his voice. Maybe he was trying to avoid me or needed some time and space. Maybe I had crossed the barrier of curiosity, when I insisted on seeing the scars on his back... I would never know...

In his absence, missing him and thinking a lot about him, many times a day, I heard that song over and over and over again, feeling extremely touched every time I heard those chords.

That young demon, with pale skin and light eyes, had led me to temptation and won not only my body but also my soul, which then began to burn with passion for him. I had not much that was mine, really... besides the soul that was corrupted by some deadly sins and uncontrolled weakness...

In essence, he was not really a demon: he was just a fallen angel, devoid of his wings, but not disallowed from flying. And I must confess that I missed him... I missed him a lot, to be honest...

***

He'd gone over a week since we had our last meeting. I had received no sign of him since then whatsoever. With a little sadness filling my heart, I decided to give up trying to re-contact him.

On Friday night I was reading in the bedroom, when the doorbell rang.

- Who can it be, this time of the night?

I got up almost automatically and without thinking and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw that there was a man standing, with his bald head slightly lowered. I opened the door and came across my fallen angel standing in front of me.

- It was not easy to find this address...

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. I simply pulled him inside and closed the door. He hugged me, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks and a funny smile.

- Why this smile and this blush?

- I've missed you...

- Oh, have you?

He smiled again, awkwardly. I laughed at the way he looked and acted like a shy boy, perhaps by pretending, perhaps by charm, or even feeling really gauche. I pressed his body against mine, with extreme tenderness. I whispered my mind and heart:

- You have no idea how much I missed you too...

He held me tighter, then ran his hand on my neck and kissed me. His fingers played with the metallic texture hanging around my neck.

- What is this?

He was referring to the hanging pendant on a silver chain, which was not there the first time we were together. The strange little silver cross, which I had found on the bedside table, remarkably, was the same the old woman had given me in the dream and I had no idea how it ended up in my room.

I had a delicate and very fine silver chain, which had been given to me, as a child, by my mother and that I kept in a box, with great care, in a drawer. I decided to use it to match with the small talisman. I did not want to reveal the true meaning of wearing a Russian Orthodox cross, hanging around my neck, so I lied both by fear and to make sure I was in no danger, being with him. I felt I should protect myself, anyway, for good or for bad.

- I think it is beautiful. It is silver.

- Yes, it's beautiful...very beautiful...

He touched the little artefact and kissed me again. I breathed relieved, being sure, then, that my apprehension was totally unfounded.

- I missed  you so much. I think I fell in love with you.

- You think? But you should not fall in love so inadvertently with a complete stranger...

- Among what I should, what I want, what I feel and what I like, there is a distance of many thousand kilometres ...

- I thought a lot before coming after you. I tried to avoid it. I also fought my own demons and insecurities, but I realized that one cannot avoid the inevitable.

- Well... If it is inevitable...

In my mind, a song repeated, endlessly, the refrain that had confused my head for days and that seemed to make much sense at that moment.

No, I neither wanted to go nor did I ever want to forget... anything... again...

"Если хочешь идти, иди; если забыть хочешь, забудь
   Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть ...”

("If you want to go, go; if you want to forget, forget it;
 Just know that, at the end of the road, there is no turning back... ") *


***
* From:  Филипп Киркоров - Снег 
                (Phillip Kirkorov - Sneg)

sábado, 10 de janeiro de 2015

Demon (Part 2 of 3)


- Are you afraid?

- I am.

- Of what? Of me?

- I will not answer that. It's not very fair...

He looked at me with an almost irresistible pleading expression. I felt I had to tell him what was going on in my mind...

- Sometimes I'm afraid of my own demons ... I must not be doomed for that, however, must I?

- There’s no need for fear. Relax and let yourself go. I have no intention of causing you any harm.

- I wish it was that easy...

He chuckled. It was not sarcasm, however. It seemed to be more for complacency than anything else. Maybe he wanted me to feel more comfortable anyway. I knew, however, how hard it was to make myself at ease.

- Close your eyes.

- No way...

- Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I just want you to relax a bit. Come on.

I obeyed, in spite of the apprehension I felt. He touched my face, very lightly. I opened my eyes. He touched my eyelids very softly and made me close them again.

- Shh... Calm down. Do not think of anything bad. I will not do anything you do not want.

(‘That was the problem. What if I wanted it all? What if I wanted nothing at all? What if I lose control? Oh, God!’)

He touched my cheeks, then rubbed his warm fingertips on my earlobes, up my neck, and with the fingers through my hair, he slowly massaged my scalp. Then he pulled my head a little backwards. I felt the heat of his soft lips on my forehead, my eyes, my face and finally on the corner of my mouth, brushing my lips, very lightly. I moaned. He kissed me very softly, almost not touching my lips, which moved to respond to his touch.

- Shh... just let me kiss you.. Do not do anything... yet...

His voice was a whisper and I hardly discerned the words, but understood the intention behind them. He kissed my chin, neck and chest, then unbuttoned my shirt and pulled the fabric slightly to the side. Goose bumps covered all the extension of my skin. He sought one of the most sensitive parts of my body, which was already waiting for the heat of his mouth and, not surprisingly, the tip of his tongue. He played there for a short while. He then opened a few more buttons and kissed me a bit further down, turned a little in the exploration and kissed me above and below the navel, moving down slowly, rubbing my skin with his soft beard and causing me some strange sensations. Every inch of my body was on alert, waiting for him to come further down, but instead, he started do come up, kissing me through an imaginary line drawn to the centre of my body, all the way up to my mouth, in what seemed to me a time lag so hard to know whether it had been too long or too short.

His mouth was warm and his extremely soft lips were pressing onto mine and, that time, allowing me to respond to their tepid contact. He did not force more than that superficial touch and then he moved his mouth up to my ear, whispering the words I already knew I was going to hear.

- Are you still afraid?

- I am...

He embraced me tenderly, allowing me to feel the warmth of his body and waited until I wrapped my arms around his body and relaxed. He then spoke again, very kindly.

- Do not be...

He looked me in the eyes as his hands buttoned back the shirt he had opened a few minutes before. He kissed my eyes and then my hands.

- Shall we go?

- Yes, please.

He turned the engine on and drove in silence along the seaside avenue. The ocean was like a huge black cloak, shouting at me in a language I did not understand, words I could not tell whether they were of alertness or of incentive. My mind was a complete mess, in a whirlwind of feelings, doubts and questions. He said no more than a few words all the way. Me neither.

When he left the avenue and took the direction of a region that was not where we started, initially, I did not question anything, did not make any comment, nor protested whatsoever. I pressed my hands against each other in a kind of discomfort and looked out.

He put his hand over mine and smiled, saying nothing. I tried to smile. Fortunately there was just a little light in the car except when we passed by the street lighting, which would gradually and constantly, give flashes of the strange faint expression, still stamped on my face.

***

A ray of sunlight coming in through a gap between the drapes hit hard my face and eyes. I tried to concentrate on what was around me. My head was spinning and I was not really sure where I was. Although my head hurt, I tried to focus my eyes on the surroundings. It was then that I realized where I was and could recognize the room and the bed in which I was.

A knock on the door woke me up completely and at once. I got up hastily and went to the door, opening it widely straightaway. The maid looked at me with a funny expression, trying to look away from my naked body.

- May I arrange the room?

- Um... Sure... Come in.

I hurried into the first door and locked it. I urgently needed a shower. I still could not think of last night's details. I opened the tap and went into the warm water, trying to rescue pieces of myself while soaping my body with energy.

('Good God,' I thought. 'What have I done?')

- Will you need more towels?

- Huh? No, thank you. I'm already leaving.

When I opened the door I had the towel wrapped around my body. I hurried into the bedroom, while the maid entered the bathroom to finish her chores. I hastened to dress and leave, before having another meeting with the cleaning woman, who was whispering a song while she changed towels, toiletries and mopped the floor. I slammed the door behind me and went to the reception. The bill was already paid. The breakfast was still being served, on the side of the reception hall, but I decided to leave without eating.

My stomach was not well and my head still hurt quite a lot. At the door, I called a taxi to take me back home, trying to concentrate in recovering the very fuzzy details in my memory, despite having passed only a few hours since we had come to that place.

(‘Concentrate! What have you done?’)

I closed my eyes. I needed to remember. I could not recall having had any kind of blackout like that ever before in my life.

What was preventing me to remember?’ I asked myself over and over, but could not find any answer.

We arrived at my destination, without my noticing the way we had come through. The taxi driver told me the fare and I rushed to reach the wallet from my pocket to pay him. Along with the few notes in the front compartment, I noticed there was a folded piece of paper with the hotel's letterhead, which I was absolutely sure not to have placed it there. I paid the man and crossed the wide sidewalk.

My hand was tucked in my coat pocket, holding firmly the folded parchment. My anxiety was preventing me to think logically. The damn elevator was probably stuck in some floor and took forever to come down, as if to make fun of my despair and confusion. I tried hard not to show any apprehension to the other people standing in front of the metallic sliding doors.

When I finally entered the apartment, I urged to take my hand out of the pocket and unfold the paper. There was a small message written in a calligraphy that I already knew. My eyes fell on the letters and the words, which did not seem to make much sense at first glance.

- What the hell...!?


sábado, 27 de dezembro de 2014

Demon (Part 1 of 3)


When I left the station, my head was still somewhat stunned by the image of a sad farewell and the vision of the last railway wagon being swallowed by the autumn morning mist. I did not really see the person whom I bumped into, scattering a reasonable number of packages along the pavement. I hastened to help minimize the damage I had done, almost without looking at the face of the person who knelt down, at the same time, saying there was no problem, in response to my plea for apologies.

When I looked up and saw those eyes so green, I wondered if the gods decided to play their games with me, teasing me one time after the other, over and over again. I must have been staring at those emerald eyes for too long because the smile I got back, left me somewhat awkward, thinking I could have exceeded some boundary. I looked back down, with my face completely flushed and feeling my ears burning with embarrassment.

- It was no big deal. It happens... Thanks for helping me collect the packages.

- It was the least I could do to make up for the damage.

My voice sounded strange. I could hardly recognize myself. I wanted to disappear, in spite of feeling an incredible magnetism, as if I was being somewhat controlled by those eyes. The shame I felt made me feel absolutely uncomfortable. I wanted to run away from there, but something inside was fighting against that intention. In a way, I also felt that I wanted to stay. He then surprised me by asking something I never expected to hear, at that time, from a complete stranger.

- Do you want to have a cup of coffee with me?

I must have made a strange face, because he laughed loudly.

***

My eyes fell upon the bags on the chair beside him and that contained the parcels, which were scattered down the sidewalk outside the train station a few minutes before. He noticed my curiosity, but did not say anything until I asked.

- Are those gifts for your children?

- They're for my nephews ... I have no children. I'm not married.

My soul grinned. The corner of my mouth must have shown some kind of sign. He laughed and held his hand out.

- My name is Dima.

I told him mine. He made a kind of strange face at the mention of my unusual, somewhat atypical name and asked:

- What is the meaning?

- What is meaning of what?

He laughed.

- Of your name.

I never thought my name could have a meaning. Anyway, I made a quick trip in my memory and on what I knew about my origins, trying to come to any conclusions, but I came to virtually nothing. In my country and in my family, the names were always given by choice and affinity, not meanings. I was aware mine had been chosen at random, without any criterion, other than the initial, which was equal to that first letter of the name of my brothers. He then explained the reason for the question:

- My name was given in honour of Demeter, the goddess. Dmitry. Dima. I like, however, to use a pseudonym in a pun with the pronunciation: Demon. It gives me an uncommon identity...

And he laughed with the corner of his mouth, raising his right eyebrow, in a way I could never do, try as I might. That way of raising his eyebrow gave him the looks that would fit perfectly in the nickname he had chosen himself.

If life were a movie, the dramatic incidental music which anticipates a great suspense would play at that right moment. I laughed inside at that silly thought. To tell the truth, I had done the association, mentally, but I pretended to show surprise. It was just a little white lie, in order not to be too obvious or to look any clever. Sometimes it is better to pass up a silly impression and keep expectations low. And besides, I wanted him to talk more about himself.

- Demon... Interesting...

He looked straight into my eyes and smiled. An unusual thought came to my mind at that moment. A strange feeling bothered me, like the pierce of a finger on a rose thorn. Something scratched the sense of coherence in me.

How strange... That smile seemed almost impossible for me to resist . He realized a kind of embarrassment in my way of looking at him and opened his best grin ever.

- (Who is this man, anyway?)

That young paled skin demon with light eyes could easily lead me to temptation and I knew it would be difficult to dither.

- I have to go. Thanks for the company, but I have to go...

He took a paper serviette and scribbled a phone number and an email address. He handed it to me and extended his hand.

- Keep contact. Hope to see you a next time.

He got up and left without turning around. As he passed the window, he looked in and waved at me with a mischievous smile. I smiled back. My hand rested on the serviette, as if trying to keep a bit of him with me for a while longer... maybe in vain...

I shook my head, got up and left. It was time to come back to real life.

***

- I thought you were not going contact me.

- I confess that I hesitated, but finally decided... and I do not quite know what to say.

- Invite me for a coffee. You need no more than that...

I laughed. He was right. There was no reason for any excuses. It's good to be an independent adult and give no account of what one does to anyone at all.

We met at the same place as the first time. He was already sitting at a table when I came in. He greeted me with a warm and firm handshake and a broad smile. My face was burning, as if I had a fever and I felt hot, although we were in the middle of a cold winter.

- Let's get out of here and go to some quieter place. I just had an idea.

He drove us to a beach. The sea was calm and the day clean and dry, in spite of the temperature being fairly low. We walked along the sand, side by side, almost without talking, each one immersed in our own private thoughts. Sometimes we stopped to catch a shell, throw a stone into the sea, or watch the seagulls fly and the waves break and crawl to our feet.

The minutes seemed to fly away. Soon the sun started to go down and dive slowly into the horizon. We were side by side in silence feeling the cool air and the colours of the sky change into stronger shades of warm colours.

- It's beautiful.

- It is indeed...

I felt a strange emotion at that moment, when my hand touched his, almost accidentally. The beach was deserted and quiet, unlike my mind.

- Let's go back? I'm cold.

- OK.

Back in the car, I felt like rubbing my hands with energy, as I was freezing. Have it cooled too quickly or was I with the body temperature completely out of tune? Maybe there was something else behind all of that and my mind and body were showing signals of my restlessness.

- Are you that cold? Do you want me to turn the heating on?

- There’s no need for that. Thanks... Just let it be...

- Or do you want me to help you warm up some other way?

- Which other way?

He laughed again, with the corner of the mouth and with his eyebrow raised, displaying the same facial expression that he had shown the day he spoke about the unusual nickname he had chosen to use. A strange sensation messed with my stomach and I outlined a wan smile.

- I do not usually sleep with demons... nonetheless with my own ones...

He rested his hand on mine and said, seriously:

- Sleeping with your demons is far more acceptable than laying with the ones who betray your trust...

He was right. I raised my head and looked into his eyes when I heard him continue the thought.

- And some people do not need to sell their souls instead...

His pupils dilated, fixed in my eyes. My throat felt dry and I could not look away from his stare. He came closer.

I froze. A chill ran up my spine.

I seemed to have my body and mind paralyzed or magnetized, perhaps completely spellbound and unable to react against a kind of power that emanated from him. I felt the heat of his breath getting closer to my face. I shut my eyes... and my body quivered in fear...


***

quinta-feira, 14 de julho de 2011

The First Timer


I was standing by the window, looking at the sunny streets outside, when I felt the touch of warm lips on my left ear. I turned around and was welcomed by the sweetest and naughtiest smile I have ever seen and a pair of big green eyes which were - then - playing around with mine.

Thinking we were alone, I looked at those gorgeous and perfect lips and could not help but kissing them. Someone, somehow, saw me doing it and shouted at us indignantly. Other people joined and came after the two of us, who were already rushing off the place and laughing at the same time. We never stopped and although we knew no one would catch us, we just kept running away down the streets and laughing.

We were not really worried, once the only crime we made was letting our emotions run wild, just like our feet were doing at that moment.

When we turned a left corner, after a deep down slope - I woke up.

I opened my eyes feeling completely lost in time and it took me some seconds to realize where I was. There was a fine line of light coming from behind the curtain, not bright enough to tell me the time. I checked the clock at the bedside table. It was still too early in the morning, so I turned around and closed my eyes, but could not sleep again.


I reckon I did not have a good rest that night. I went to bed too late and was still tired. I was too scared for letting my heart and emotion decide over my mind and reason and I was too concerned about the hours to come, so being incapable of relaxing was not the only thing I was uncomfortable with. My mind was not at ease and any unusual noise made me jump up the small hotel bed I was lying in. From the other side of the room I could hear the sound of a light snoring coming every now and then. It was not that awful, I thought, in the end, once it made me feel – at least - safe.


When the alarm clock finally rang, I was already wide awake. In half an hour we were both ready to go downstairs. A few reticent words were exchanged between us – far from what I anticipated this first morning to be like. We left the room like siblings who slept in the same bedroom and did not have much to talk about. I kept my eyesight away from his face for the time being, just for precaution, when we entered the lift on the way down to the hotel restaurant.

Breakfast was almost formal. A good coffee would have to wait until we left the place, as the only available choice was the soluble one from the automatic machine – the option he avoided resolutely. We decided to have a fine and decent cup of coffee down at the city square, under a parasol, out in the dry and fresh air of springtime. That nice dose of proper caffeine made me feel a lot better.

Then we walked… A guide to the city was the present I was given. The main subject was always the place, the history, the past. His favorite spots were just what I expected them to be. I was not surprised at all by the fact that we had so much in common in our preferences. With time, I also noticed we had a lot in common in other terms…

When I felt a bit more comfortable, I started talking about myself as well. For some unknown reason, the place looked familiar to me and I made a comment about that. We both laughed over my nonsense, although I had a light impression of being back home, while walking the city streets.

Preferred sites, sunny lanes and boulevards, shady parks, the architecture of the buildings, his memories coming to illustrate our conversation – it was all kind of novelty to me, with a flavor of impracticality and weird melancholy, both still unsettling my mind. I felt like I was out of time and space, in spite of the apparent resemblance with places I have been or seen before.

At lunch we talked business - seriously. That man had his homework well done, but I realized it was not business I was really interested in - at all. Then we strolled around out in the sun again for hours, through more familiar streets and places of interest.

***

“…And do you still want that?”

I could not look directly to the eyes of the person who brought that issue up to the conversation, after my mentioning we had done two out or three things we proposed ourselves to do when I left home for that peculiar meeting. The main topic, for me, had been avoided all day long up to the minute he asked me the question.

I said ‘yes’, although I was feeling disturbingly sad and tired. I was led to what I believed to be a waste and was not quite pleased with that. A highly expensive cup of coffee – that’s what I thought it was. My mind and my body were entirely and unquestionably worn out.

When we got back to the room I felt a desperate need of a fresh shower, as I was feeling hot and weary and knew it was not only for having walked out in the sun for hours. It worked out fine though to calm me down a bit. There is nothing better than a good shower to feel alive again, I thought.

My heart was telling me my expectations were not solid enough to make anything I anticipated in my mind to happen anyway, so I put the TV on the music channel and started creaming my sore feet up, while he had himself taken his turn in the shower. It was then that I remembered I was walking almost non-stop for two whole days… and with the same pair of sneakers… They were kinda filthy, so I put them away from me. Fortunately I brought my new comfortable flip flops, the only real soothing I was about to feel – or so thought I.

I tried to remain cool and impassive when he lied on the bed next to mine. Pretending I was still watching TV, while he browsed through channels, I was attracted by the sight of his feet - the most beautiful pair I had seen in ages. I could not take my eyes off of them. I sat down and asked if he wanted some foot gel to refresh. Although the answer was ‘no’, I decided to apply the ointment myself, anyway, finding no resistance by any means from his part. I took some time giving myself the pleasure of providing him with some satisfaction with that massage. His skin was extraordinarily soft and I acted as if applying the soothing gel on his tired feet was the most natural thing to do.

I noticed those bright green eyes were set upon my seriousness with a mix of curiosity and fun. When I finished both feet, I glanced at his disguised smile and felt like a beginner – inexperienced, insecure and awkward at the same time.

‘What a shame!’ - I thought to myself, a little embarrassed and looking away from his face… - ‘He is making fun of me’.

***

“Do you still want it?” I raised my eyes back to his. “Look at me… I’m ready”…, he said.

But how?, I asked, smiling shyly, a bit surprised and a bit lost by the evidence he showed me.

“I don’t know… I just am”… He made a pause, whilst studying my clumsy behavior.

“What do you want to do?”

He was defying me. His eyes were still laid down on my face. I, for that one time, did not know exactly what to do and he noticed my uneasiness. For a moment I had forgotten it was his irresistible teasing that attracted me to that adventure… and he was doing that - to me - again. A first timer – that’s what I thought I was.

“What do you want me to do?” - I asked almost inaudibly.

“Touch me”, he whispered.

“How would you like me to touch you”…?

"Just touch me”, he answered in an even lower tone of voice.

And I did. I touched light-handedly his small and beautiful face, his muscled torso, his strong legs - feeling the soft hair in between my trembling fingers and - then and again - his perfect feet. He closed his eyes and moaned lightly. I turned his body around and started massaging his back, his legs - his whole body - slowly and tenderly.

I just wanted to feel him and wished all the gods of time would make those seconds last forever. They would not, however, hear my prayer…

I kissed the soft skin of his neck, then his back and his neck again and again and again… He just heaved a loud sigh when I whispered behind his ear how much I liked him. He was ready for me long before I started touching him, but that was more evident when I turned his amazing body around again. It was then that I decided to give myself in to the moment, entirely inebriated by the sweet-salty taste and flavor of that man. I felt as if he was yielding himself to my lust, opening his heart and letting me explore his senses and his perfect and lean body without any restraint.

When his muscles tensed, ready to surrender to what that single moment in time was taking out of him, he let a louder groan come out and I knew it was the right time for me to provide him with what I would like to be a cherished reminder of that meeting. He let himself go like a boat sailing freely through warm and unknown waters. He submitted his entire being to my caresses, to the touch of my hands and lips, as if there was no tomorrow, nor yesterday – just that brief present in the – now - past.

His low moan transformed into a louder wail, when he lost grip of his control and finally gave in to the sensation of pleasure he said he had never had previously in his life.

When he took his turn, I decided not to fight against the unavoidable…

***

“Are you still looking at me?” He asked through closed eyes and with a naughty smile decorating his sweet and now relaxed face.

‘Uhum’, I groaned, smiling tenderly, without turning my eyes away from him. In fact I was not only looking at him… I was quietly admiring his astonishing beauty, while a song was playing non-stop in my head and saying everything, although he could not hear it from where he was:

“I can’t take my eyes off of you; I can’t take my eyes off of you; I can’t take my eyes off of you; I can´t take my eyes”…

And how could I, after the declaration that he had never felt that “horny” anytime before?

That song was still playing in my head and went on indefinitely:

“I can’t take my mind off of you; I can’t take my mind off of you; I can’t take my mind off of you; I can´t take my mind”… (The Blower’s Daughter)


Hours before I was fighting against myself for having made that choice. We had avoided the main subject for too long and he knew I was being extra careful, when I surrendered to his plea and answered the question I was refraining from responding not for the first time that day. He was trying me to see how far I would go.

Not too long afterwards I was rendering myself to his beauty and the perfection of his body. That small man had me all wrapped up in his web, like a fly caught inadvertently by the patient and clever spider.

I kept on staring at his wonderful features until I fell asleep, exhausted… but glad to be there.

***

“You’re always thinking so much and saying so little”. He said that from the other side of the table where we were having breakfast the morning after.

How could I possibly say anything, if my heart was so discomforted, as if an immense rock was afflicting my chest, like a difficult burden to carry? How could I say that what I wanted was being in the arms of someone who did not feel the same for me? At least that was what I assumed, from the silence and slight distance that followed the happenings of the night before. Somehow he was mysteriously quiet - sometimes facing me with a funny look, sometimes avoiding my eyes. He was not anymore the fun-teasing man I thought to meet and who amazed me some hours before.

Then, as if moved by some strange reason only he knew, he started talking, almost casually. He spoke little, but surprised me with things I was neither expecting nor comforted to hear. That young man, sitting opposite to me, was bitter, distressed, disappointed in life. His sadness dumbfounded me and broke my heart into more pieces. I was asking myself, while looking at him in nearly complete awe: where is the man, who surrendered himself to boundless pleasure last night? Where is the man who made me fall head over heels for him and now is refraining from allowing me go back there again, by saying those sad things to me? Is he afraid of having his heart broken? Does he know how many times can a heart be broken or will he give up and lock himself up before finding out? I could just keep myself quiet, paying careful attention to him, feeling my soul going deep in sorrow for that young man, who seemed to have had his hope lost by circumstances he could not have much power over… Listening was the best I could do that time. He wanted to talk and I was there - to hear. In a way, he was opening those secrets to my ears, showing some trust to the one person sitting at the breakfast table with him.

***

He was lying in his bed with his back turned to me, pretending he was not aware I was looking at him again. We did not speak much after leaving the hotel restaurant. I was still trying to digest the breakfast and the conversation we had during it. I knew no similar opportunities would be repeated and I felt there was an uneasy and heavy atmosphere set between us… Oh, God, how I wished to be in his arms again, but he never gave any signal he would let me… Giving myself finally up, I kissed the top of his head and asked, in a whisper, ‘why do things have to be this way?’

“I don’t know”, he said.

Nothing else was said… It was time to go back to our lives and we knew it.

***

“I did not expect you to like me that much. You know when you’re being touched by someone who cares so much about you. And that makes a big difference”…

Did I detect a slight faltering in his voice or was it my impression? I could not say for sure, as I was too affected by the moment to distinguish any foolish or unwelcome emotional reaction coming from his lips. Maybe he was fighting against feeling poignant or showing any weaknesses to me. He was always so full of himself - so strong and self assured - that it was probably just my imagination, I assumed.

He said that as if he was reporting a fact, pretending it was just a normal statement, trying to hide any emotion away from that moment, with his low and gloomy voice. I have to confess I was surprised by his words. Then he looked so very serious, not looking at my eyes with his big green ones – the eyes I could not ever read properly.

I was busy fighting the knot which was tying slowly around my throat and the tears which were jumping from my eyes uncontrollably. I did not look at his face either. I could not say anything, just kept eyeing the photo of a paradisiacal beach on the panel decorating the almost empty waiting room where we were sitting in.

The silence weighted heavily on both of us for what it seemed like centuries. I was torn, insecure, tired, distressed… the only thing I could do was trying to smile, sadly – an enormous effort to control the frayed emotions which were ripping my soul apart that warm and sunny afternoon.

“What is it you’re thinking about now? You never tell me what goes on your mind. You just look at me, as if you are going to say something, but you never do”…

His statement was true. I had so many things to say, so many questions to ask, so many declarations to make… I was not ready – however - to talk about them, so I said: “But you don’t either, my friend”…

He smiled – defeated - and we closed the issue with no further unnecessary comment. We have spent two days being economical in the words related to what we felt. Acting as if exposure was dangerous to our sanity or image, we both knew, deep inside, that we were being too cautious to express what was going on in our minds and senses.

Was it fear of showing weakness or was it panic that we could make one run away from another in absolute fright? I could never know how to explain that…

***

I was sure that it was more a “goodbye” than a “see you soon”, when he departed without looking back. I did not look back either. When I got inside the airport building again, I took the small mp3 player out of the pocket and tried not to think about anything else, although I knew that would be impossible for many reasons.

A song started playing as soon as I entered the waiting room and I had to hide my face on my chest, so no one could see my eyes watering again. Life was cruelly playing with my heart, making me burst inside, breaking me into painful pieces, while the singer kept on and on, with his harsh voice, shattering my soul into small portions, which could never be put together one more time… little by little, making me want to disappear, struggling to pull me through back again:

*…”Silence is a heavy stone.
I fight the world and take all they can give
There are times my heart hangs low
Born to walk against the wind
Born to hear my name
No matter where I stand I'm alone.
Stand and fight
Live by your heart
Always one more try
I'm not afraid to die
Stand and fight
Say what you feel
Born with a Heart of Steel”…

*(Heart of Steel – Manowar)

***

Weeks of silence followed. Was he scared or disappointed? My mind let my reason overcome my feelings and I decided to accept the circumstances I was left with. It was a mistake… a big mistake, I said to myself. There would never be another chance. There would never be another anything… Left on my own, with the memories of a unique and only encounter, allied to my solitude, I cried - in profound sorrow - alone in the darkness of the bedroom. We never got in contact again…

I now ask myself if I wanted more from that - and thinking coolly, I come to the conclusion that I certainly did. Maybe he was not ready to give me anything further than he did or perhaps I was just expecting too much, when I left home on that sunny Friday morning to a chancy adventure with a cute stranger.

There is one thing now I can say for sure, however. He left me with something no one will ever take away from me: the sweet and live reminiscences of those two days, which will be in my mind… forever… and I will be grateful to him for those ‘mementos’ for as long as I may live…

Smiling sadly to myself, I bring the recollections back from those beautiful hours together, when I felt as if my soul was an immense ocean and his river soul came winding down through stony and curvy paths, merging into my waters, making him lose himself for a while, becoming one with me, for at least one brief and sweet moment – the one when I felt special like no one else has ever been.

Our special meeting lasted just that one short and delightful instant in time. It was so right and for such so right a time… My heart has certainly turned into a better place, thanks to that charming and lovely man… but - oh, Christ - I still miss him so much…