‘Shall we go out onto the terrace?’ he suggests with a smile.
‘Why not? It’s so beautiful out there,’ I agree.
We sit directly on the marble steps, still warm from the hot summer day, and I gulp down my drink. It turns out I really needed it, so much so that Alex hands me his glass too.
An awkward silence hangs between us. Neither of us knows what to say, which is surprising because Alex is hardly a novice in such matters. People with looks like his gain a lot of experience early on and usually far more than other people.
I can sense him looking at me and detect something special, something magical in his stare, along with the feeling that he is just as afraid of being embarrassed or making mistakes as I am.
‘Would you like another?’ he asks, looking at my empty glass.
‘Where’s your shower?’ I blurt out, my nerves on edge despite the relaxing ambience of our surroundings.
‘In the bedroom,’ he replies, his lips stretching into a smile.
I think of the spaceship-style door I saw in his bedroom when I glanced in earlier and flee in that direction, but discover that there are actually two doors. I open the first one and see a long space filled with half-empty white shelves and coat hangers. There are very few clothes and they are all neatly folded. Obviously his wardrobe. I throw open the second door and discover what I’m looking for – the shower, with an enormous Jacuzzi alongside it. The room is neither a small ensuite nor a tiled cubbyhole, but a large oval-shaped space made of glass blocks, hollow inside and filled with fragments of natural materials such as sand, quartz, shells, coloured granite and marble. The walls are a work of art in itself, but the high-tech shower is beyond the scope of my imagination.
It is with some difficulty that I work out how to turn the water on so that it falls in the usual way – from above. I feel myself relax under the high-pressure jets of water, or it could be the double-strength mojito finally taking effect. And thank goodness, because unless I release the tension within me, it’s unlikely I will be able to give myself to a complete stranger, especially knowing the blatantly obvious temporariness of my being in his apartment and his life.
My eyes greedily drink in his personal belongings – bottles of shampoo, shower gel, unfamiliar male hygiene products. But I don’t just look, I touch, and it is frighteningly exhilarating: wanting to touch all the trivial things that fill his everyday life and finding myself even more bewitched. I want to get to know him without thinking about what’s coming tomorrow.
*** ‘All I Want’ by Sarah Blasko ***
Forcing my eyes closed, I put my face under the water. It is washing away all the limitations and conventions and temporarily erasing all memory of my family, my perfectly adequate husband waiting at home, and my son, who will be missing me.
I want this, I really do. It will make me happy, maybe even very happy, and life is unlikely to give me another opportunity to taste it. I am smart enough to know the true value of things and most important in life is not to hurt anyone.
Suddenly, I am aware of a warm hand on my back sliding slowly downwards, only barely touching my skin. I freeze, listening, then feel the hand again, this time sliding from my shoulder to my wrist. Alex takes my hand gently and slowly turns it over, then lifts it to his lips and kisses my wrist. The kiss is full of so much tenderness and feeling that my head starts to spin, my legs go weak.
I look down at my heaving chest, see the thin streams of water flowing over it, and am aware of my own beauty and sexuality for the very first time in my life. No longer reticent, insecure and frigid, I am suddenly filled with an unshakeable confidence. Naked and dripping wet, I turn and press myself against Alex, my face hidden in the crook of his neck. The recognition of my defencelessness and complete openness before him and the touch of his clothes against my naked skin are exquisite. It is surprising how the simplest things can evoke such powerful emotions.
Alex kisses my face and lips tenderly. I feel the touch of his tongue and am surprised at how much I like it and how hungry I am for him – his caresses are so unbelievably sexual, intimate and arousing.
The sound of my own moan brings me to my senses and Alex also stops. His mouth is slightly open and I can see his eyes asking me impatiently: ‘What’s wrong?’
I have no idea what sexuality is, but it could be what my eyes see in that moment: swollen, wet lips gulping for air, and eyes darker than usual peering into mine and speaking only of their desire to possess. My face must be saying the same, because Alex is hurriedly pulling off his wet clothes to reveal an inhumanly beautiful body.
I am dumbfounded and stare at him, fixated. It seems I knew nothing about male beauty either. His body could not have been more perfect if a hundred sculptors had worked on it night and day, and thousands of artists had been commissioned to create the most delicious skin tone possible. The sight of his naked body makes me feel vulnerable and powerless. Exquisite but also masculine, it pulls me in like a magnet and intoxicates me, evoking thousands of unbridled desires, the very first of which is to touch it.
On the left-hand side of his torso, just below his chest, is an intricate tattoo of a fairytale tree, the branches of which are made up of numerous letters with curlicues written as initials. The tattoo plunges me into a kind of trance and my hand reaches out to touch it, but, as soon as it does, Alex covers it with his own and presses it to his chest so tightly that I can feel his heart beating under my palm.
Then that look. It is full of energy, and two such looks together would generate a burst of electricity, a nuclear explosion, the climax of the mind game called attraction.
Alex moves closer and our bodies touch. Only very slightly at first, as if neither is brave enough for anything more than an initial introduction, slowly but gradually getting to know one another. Then more closely until they are squeezed together so tightly it feels as if we both want our skin to knit together like Siamese twins. The proximity of his hot, powerful body and his intoxicating male scent take me to another dimension where space and time are perceived differently, where shame and embarrassment dissolve in the ether of desire and the thirst for intimacy.
Holding him tight and kissing his lips, I am suddenly struck by a strange, inexplicable feeling, as if I have rediscovered something lost long ago, something familiar and of the utmost importance.
Alex lifts me up and carries me into the bedroom. And it is there, lost in the celestial music on his enormous white bed and drowning in the spicy smell of his skin and the vanilla scent of his sheets, that I become his for the very first time – sexy, exciting, arousing, and infinitely desirable.
How wonderful to finally experience it all! I feel like I’m living and breathing every moment of my existence in this world and I do not have a single regret. I – a prim and proper, uptight and married prude – am giving myself to a man who is not my husband and, horror of horrors, I’m glad I am.
*** ‘Sinking Inside Yourself’ by Hammock ***
I am woken by the light. It is only about seven in the morning, but the rays of sun pouring into the bedroom are so bright that it is as if the sun itself is in the room. I squint, but can neither open my eyes fully nor put my thoughts in order. My mind has spent some time trying to put a plan of action together for a great and dignified exit, but, every now and then, I get vivid, spine-tingling flashes of last night that both shame and arouse me all over again. Finally, I sit quietly on the edge of bed, naked and bathed in sunlight, trying to remember where my clothes are.
I turn my head and see Alex, his lower body covered by the sheet but his stomach bare. Completely flat and tanned, it rises and falls softly in time with his breathing and, if you look really closely, you can see it shudder imperceptibly with each beat of his heart. There are hairs on the lower part of his stomach, and they have one purpose only – to draw the female eye straight down to the part of his body still covered by the white sheet. And thank goodness it is, because I should have been home hours ago.
‘Of course! My clothes must still be in the bathroom,’ I think to myself, and I’m just about to slip in quietly, then tiptoe, cat-like, over to the door, when Alex catches me by the hand.
‘Are you running away already? Maybe a coffee first? Or a shower?’ Alex is smiling openly, like a child, and raises himself up on his elbow as he struggles to open his eyes against the bright light. He looks so funny and so unbelievably beautiful in the sunlight, half-naked and helplessly blinded, but sensitive and gentle. I can feel myself falling deeper and deeper with every cell of my being, and it is to my great regret that it is not just a wave of lust. My heart is thumping so loudly that I’m afraid he can hear it.
DON’T FALL IN LOVE.
Just don’t.
‘Do you want to take a shower while I put some coffee on? The concierge promised to bring us fresh pastries,’ he whispers into my mouth as he kisses me.
It goes without saying that I am not alone in the shower for long. Brewing coffee obviously isn’t that exciting because I haven’t even managed to turn the shower on before a confident male hand appears and starts pressing all the right levers and buttons. Suddenly, cold water hits us from all sides. I scream in surprise and Alex laughingly informs me that it is a ‘morning shower’. The water warms up as his kisses get hotter and more passionate...
Afterwards, we sit down to some incredibly delicious coffee and some warm, fluffy croissants with honey. Glowing with happiness, Alex doesn’t stop smiling or kissing me, which makes our night together seem anything but a one-off. Yet I am struck by something else: the amount of tenderness in him. It is boundless, unlimited, and does not seem to fit in any way with his masculinity, with his somewhat rugged body and appearance, with his self-confidence and charisma, and with his unique ability to win people over. It is unusual for a man to be so tender – it is more a female trait than a male one – and it is this contrast that is most alluring about him. He is not burdened with pride at his successes, nor does he have a high opinion of himself or the kind of self-esteem that comes from having such a striking and attractive appearance or the good fortune with which his life has been blessed.
All day, my brain is floating up in the Andromeda nebula; I cannot concentrate on anything. The soup boils for about three hours and my email goes unchecked, although I open the inbox five times or more. Letters do not add up to words, or words to sentences, and my eyes close of their own accord to give free reign to last night’s memories. Danny whinges and whines as usual, demanding attention, but I need to be alone for a moment. I really want to live for myself, to be myself, to dream, to enjoy this unique moment of my life.
But mothers do not get weekends off or holidays, and around five in the afternoon, as soon as it cools down a little, Danny and I go to the park. Suddenly, I receive a message with a smiley face. Then another one, and another, and another. After about an hour of smiley faces, I type:
(Me) ‘Are you too weak for words?’
(Alex) ‘No! When can I see you?’
(Me) ‘When do you want to see me?’
(Alex) ‘Now. No, a second ago. No, an eternity ago!’
(Me) ‘Hmm... So I’m already in the past?’
And then, suddenly, I hear his voice:
‘Only a tiny bit of you. The rest is in the future, all 99.99%.’ I turn and he’s behind me, smiling, his beautiful lips stretching from ear to ear.
I am already used to the sudden appearances of this strange, almost otherworldly man and do not even gasp in surprise.
*** ‘Nuovo Inizio A Neukölln’ by Dardust ***
It is August and we are lying in the green grass of the park. The evening sun is warming us gently and a barely perceptible breeze reminds us that September is on its way. Danny is sitting on Alex, they are wrestling and it is not clear who is having more fun, while I am plagued by the constant anguish of my betrayal. My conscience is haunting me, but this picture, where a virtual stranger is better than Danny’s own father, is jumbling my levels of understanding and I have lost all notion of what’s good and what’s bad, what’s right and what’s wrong. After a while, my son gets bored of their superactive game and runs off to play on the swings. Alex is lying exhausted on the grass, looking at me, and I... I can’t tear my eyes away from him.
Afraid he’ll see how much I like him, I try to be a little more indifferent and instantly come up with a topic of conversation.
‘Hey, I know almost nothing about you!’
‘Or I about you,’ he answers playfully, squinting in the sunshine.
‘We should ask each other some quick-fire questions! It’s the easiest and fastest way to get an idea of who someone is.’
‘Fire away,’ says Alex, raising himself up onto his elbow in preparation for my volley of questions.
‘Your favourite colour?’
‘Brown.’
‘Mine too! Chocolate!’ I exclaim enthusiastically, and my lover looks at me with a slight smile and gives a small nod of his head, as if mentally ticking off an invisible list.
‘Favourite music?’ I ask excitedly.
‘The soundtrack to the film Hachi: A dog’s tale.’
‘I’ve seen it, but I don’t remember the music. I’ll listen to it,’ I promise him.
‘So what’s your favourite music?’
‘Anything that’s beautiful and tender, but nothing too melancholy. I love classical music, and film soundtracks too. And all the songs from the old films, of course!’
‘Why “of course”?’
‘Because everyone who was born and raised in the Soviet Union adores the films and music from that period. They’re so comforting and warm-hearted. You wouldn’t understand!’
He laughs, then says: ‘Why not? I love them too. Especially the one about D’Artagnan and the musketeers.’
‘Are you joking?’ I ask, not believing my ears.
‘No,’ Alex replies, with a smile so broad that it gives off more warmth than the evening sun.
‘That’s my favourite film!’ I almost shout. ‘I’ve loved it ever since I was a kid and know all the songs off by heart!’
Alex nods his head again – something else on the list ticked off.
‘Favourite film?’ I ask.
‘Ooh... I have too many! ‘Star Wars’, ‘Back to the Future’, ‘Contact’, and loads more. Anything to do with space, really.’
And now it’s my turn to make a mental tick, because ‘Contact’ has long been vying for my top spot alongside the Musketeers film, and space is my favourite subject when it comes to both films and books.
The similarities in our tastes aren’t funny anymore, they’re frightening. Alex is looking into the very core of my soul and I don’t think I could ever hide anything from him; it would be virtually impossible. I turn away and ask quietly: ‘And is Porsche your favourite model of car?’
‘Yes,’ he smiles, ‘but that’s not difficult to guess, given that I drive one. Yours?’
‘Also Porsche,’ I whisper, now convinced that there is nothing on which we would disagree.
‘What do you love the most?’ he asks.
‘Dark chocolate and coffee. You?’
‘Looking at you and kissing your lips...’
CHAPTER 5. OUR SECOND DATE
*** ‘Now and Not Yet’ by Hammock ***
Alex is a gentle lover, probably the most gentle and skilful in the world. He knows exactly how to caress and is very good at it. His mouth whispers softly into your ear the words you have been yearning to hear your whole life, his hands are so competent and able that you’ll be ready to surrender completely, and that is just the beginning! After whispers come kisses, tender embraces – he never hugs too tightly, he makes you desire, makes you want more of him, and more, and more...
We go on our second date five days later. On the day in question, I get into a huge fight with my sister, but leave Danny with her for the night and ask her to cover for me. We agree it will be the last time and I’ll break it off with Alex, but as far as I’m conce
rned, it’s just a temporary compromise because I have no intention of stopping.
It is late and already getting dark when Alex drives me to his apartment. There is less awkwardness this time... for him, but not for me: I feel just as uncomfortable as before. Mostly because, by this time, what is supposed to be my conscience is in full swing. It’s not just that, though. I am now also getting seriously worried about what Alex must think of me. Both last time and this I went running to him as soon as he called and not only does it go against my principles, it goes against my instincts as well. The truth is that I enjoyed the night I spent with him so much, I haven’t been able to think about anything else except a possible repeat of that miracle.
Alex stares into my eyes for a long time. So long and so deeply, in fact, that it is as if he’s trying to hypnotise me, but I know that’s not it. It is just his way of communicating, of making sure we’re on the same wavelength. And that slight smile of his – and not even really a smile, but something light and airy, like dandelion seeds – makes him more than just an ordinary person, an ordinary man. It makes him different and sets him apart from us, apart from everyone.
‘When was your last... period?’ he asks, tentatively.
My shock and surprise at the question must show in my eyes, because Alex adds quickly: ‘So I know what I can do next...’
‘Today is safe’ I say, finally understanding him.
‘Good,’ he says, smiling softly. ‘And you have nothing to worry about with me, OK? I’m clean. I made sure of it before I touched you.’
And I think to myself: ‘Jesus! What is he saying? Before he touched... me?!’, but Alex is already laying me down onto the bed, his every movement imbued with grace and a bewitching slowness, woven from hints and barely perceptible touches.
His arms are a cradle for an inexperienced woman and I surrender, simply following his lead in this strange dance unlike anything else.
Monogamy Book One. Lover: This is one love for life and beyond time Page 4