Blossom in Winter

by Melanie Martins

  I can’t help but chuckle at her tone. “Such as?”

  She throws me a cheeky smile, studying me. “I can’t tell you all my secrets at once, Mr. Van Dieren. After all, we just met…” But her face says otherwise.

  “Well, then, I expect to learn the rest in Rio.” I also give her that stare, before emptying my glass.

  Rafaela glances at her iPhone and stands up. “I’m going to get some sleep,” she announces, looking intently at me. “My Uber has just arrived. The seminar starts early in the morning.”

  “Sure.” Paulo also stands up to give her a cheek kiss, but Rafaela whispers something discreetly in his ear instead. “Alex? Would you mind escorting Rafaela to her car?”

  “Not at all,” I reply for the sake of chivalry, leaving my comfortable armchair. Rafaela smiles radiantly and wishes Roy a good night, then we head outside.

  “Is this your car?” I ask.

  “Looks like it,” she replies, confirming the license plate. I open the passenger door and invite her to get in. Before sitting, she stands beside the door and looks at me with a charming gaze. “Would you like to have a nightcap at the hotel? I’m staying at the Plaza…”

  I smile. Not because of her invitation, but because I saw it coming. After all, Paulo wouldn’t have asked me to escort her if she didn’t have something in mind. “I’m sure you want to get some rest for tomorrow. To look so young, you must sleep a lot.”

  “Well…” She moves a bit closer to my ear. “I also do other things that keep me young,” she whispers in a low, sensual voice. I remain unreadable, looking intently at her. “In case you would like to know about them, here is my business card, and my private number is on there. It was a pleasure to meet you, Alexander. Have a great night.” She gives me a long, wet kiss on my left cheek before getting into the car.

  “It was great to meet you too, Rafaela.” I close her door and wait until the car disappears completely from my sight. Afterward, I go back to the lounge where Roy and Paulo are chatting and thoroughly engaged, glasses in hand.

  “What are you still doing here?” asks Roy in surprise.

  I sit back in my armchair. “What do you mean?”

  “Why didn’t you leave with her? She was asking for it,” continues Paulo.

  “She wanted to rest for her seminar. I just escorted her to the car.”

  “No, of course not. Rafaela wanted you to escort her so she could invite you over. That’s why she asked me to do it.”

  “Ah, thank you, Paulo, but there was no need, really.”

  “Are you sick?” jokes Roy.

  “No,” I snap.

  I look around for a waiter, but don’t see any nearby.

  “Seeing someone?” asks Paulo.

  “That would explain a lot…”

  Why can’t they just stop?

  To my surprise, I take too long to answer and find them staring at me, their eyes craving an answer. “No!” I manage to pull it off with enough conviction, but I’m angry to have wanted, even for a second, to reply otherwise.

  “So why on earth wouldn’t you want to be with that woman? She seems perfect for you. Independent, smart, bold, playful, and super hot. Sounds like a no-brainer.”

  “Roy, I’m not in the mood tonight. That’s all. Feel free to see her—she’s at the Plaza.”

  “She’s into you, man. Not me. You haven’t been in the mood for a while. Maybe Rio will lighten you up.”

  Paulo chuckles. “Oh, definitely. With a drink of cachaça and some kizomba with Rafaela, this man will be lost forever.”

  They laugh hard but not me.

  I just hope they’re right. Rafaela would be the perfect antidote. After all, she’s Petra’s opposite—older, taller, seductive, mature. Her body has some wonderful, juicy curves, with a striking bust and ass. She seems very confident in her own skin and has a naughty stare that would melt any man. Plus, she seems to be experienced enough to know how to play with me. With no guilt, no fear, no limits, as I like. I glance at my watch. “It’s getting late. I need to rest. Roy, don’t forget we have a meeting with Singapore at ten a.m.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be on time. Have a great night, and promise me you’ll give Rafaela a chance. You can’t refuse such a beautiful woman like that.”

  I chuckle at Roy’s serious tone. “Don’t worry, Roy. Well, gents, have a great one.”

  The club is dark, a string of red lights flickers above the immense dance floor to match the vibrant and sensual beats. I’m sitting at a table with some friends in a private area of the club. The atmosphere’s arousing, a group of hot chicks in skin-tight dresses are shaking their asses to the DJ, gazing here and there at me, craving some attention for their performance.

  I keep scanning the dance floor for my next prey. But my heart instantly freezes at the sight of a skinny figure in a white eyelet dress with a ribbon wrapped around the waist, long black wavy hair, pale skin, big blue eyes, and cherry lips. “Petra? What are you doing here?” I yell at her. She sees me and starts running away, hiding herself among the crowd. How did she even get in? Probably with that fake ID.

  I leave my table in a hurry and search for her amid the many men and women dancing. Ah, there she is. I hasten to follow the white dress. After all, she’s the only one wearing white in this club. I find her leaving the dance floor, running into a dark hallway. I speed up my pace and rush after her, wondering where she’s heading. She disappears into a room, shutting the door behind her. I shake my head.

  Annoyed with her little game, I let out a breath and open the door. The room is barely lit, empty, with just a round bed where Petra’s sitting on the edge, staring innocently at me with her most angelic face—the one she usually does to avoid being scolded. Hands in my pockets, I walk toward her and stop right in front of her. She throws me a sweet little smile, looking up at me. But I remain unsmiling, rigid. I glare steadily at her and ask, “What are you doing in this club, Petra? You shouldn’t be here. You have to go home.”

  She giggles instead. I try hard to remain indifferent to such a cute sound coming from her month. “Let me stay,” she begs in a low, tender voice, reaching for my wrist with her left hand. Goddammit. She’s so adorable.

  I hold her fingers, caressing them slowly, but I feel something different at the touch. I glance down at them, and it’s enough to scare the hell out of me. I take a deep breath and stare again, this time more attentively. Petra is wearing an oval sapphire halo ring with a golden one below that. My jaw drops. I recognize this ring!

  “Petra, who gave you this?” I ask, looking intently at the engagement ring.

  She titters, her face beaming, and shakes her head in amusement. I glance at my left hand and know the answer.

  Before I can ask anything further, she lays down on the bed, pulling me over her. I let my body cover hers. Lost in her big blue eyes, my lips spread apart and my pulse becomes uncontrollable. I’ve never lain on a bed with her before, but she seems far more comfortable than me.

  “Do you love me?” she asks while unfastening my belt.

  I widen my eyes in shock. Fuck! What’s happening? “Oh God...” I try to recover from this madness. “Petra, I can’t do this.” But I’m so stunned by all of this that I remain motionless. I can only stare at her as she hungrily unzips my pants.

  “There’s no one here, just us,” she reassures in a soft voice.

  Her eyes meet mine again, looking for an answer to her question.

  Lost in here gaze, my heartbeat is bouncing so fast and loud that I can barely breathe, but despite it all…

  “You know perfectly well I do.”

  She wraps her hands around my neck, and her face glows with a smile I’ve never seen before. “I love you too.”

  I reach her mouth at that instant, devouring her lustily. The urge of my desire to possess her is unbearable. I lift her dress, completely uncovering her legs. I squeeze them tight. Her skin feels so smooth and delicate. I spread them wider and notice she’s not wearing anyt
hing underneath. I grow harder at the sight of her pussy; my mind’s going wild. I need to be inside, to fill her completely, to give her the pleasure I imagined in Rome, make her body sweat and tremble like she has never felt before.

  I push my pants and boxers down, then nibble on her bottom lip, her chin, before sucking her neck again.

  “Ahhh…” she moans, lifting her pelvis. Damn. I hear her moaning. I reach down, bring my cock to her opening, and thrust hurriedly inside. I groan, feeling her for the very first time. She’s so drenched, so narrow, so warm, my heart feels like exploding and my breath comes out in short gasps. She squeals while I strike deeper. I have to shut my eyes at the intensity of our pleasure, at the intensity of having her, her love, her moans begging me to go faster and harder—she seems so used to the feel of me. She’s so damn expressive, so liberated. “Ahh… Faster! Ahhh!” She cries out while I’m pounding into her, in and out. My eyes drop to her mouth, wide open, then to her flushed skin, all sweaty and messy… God, she’s so beautiful with my cock inside. The view takes my breath away. At that instant I feel the urge of my orgasm, and my strokes become more insistent as I bang her as hard as I can. “Cum inside me,” she whispers. “Please, cum inside…” she repeats in a dirty voice I’ve never heard before.

  “Oh, fuck, Petra...” I’m totally drunk. Drunk on her. I shut my eyes at the euphoria of the moment, give one last deep push, and, between heavy groans, finish in her.

  She reaches for my mouth and pins me with a long kiss while I remain inside, enjoying her warmth.

  Then we look at each other with the exact same tenderness and twinkle as in Rome—it feels like nothing else matters. Just us. After all, I’m her husband. And she is my wife.

  I wake up with a jump, totally startled. I’m exhausted, sweaty, shaking between grueling breaths. While sitting up in bed, I look around. My bedroom is empty. There’s no one but me. I glance at the clock on the nightstand. Four a.m. Jeez! I brush some strands of hair from my face, take a deep breath in, and exhale. What a nightmare. I go to the bathroom and take a quick, fresh shower. I grab new boxers and a pair of ripped jeans, then go to the bar area in the living room. There I take a glass, three ice cubes, and pour some Macallan. I haven’t smoked a cigarette in years. Probably twenty or more. But I always have a pack hidden somewhere for guests. I take one out, put the filter up to my lips, and light it. Taking the first puff feels good. With my glass in hand and my cigarette between my fingers, I drag myself to the terrace, pacing around while idly observing skyscrapers and streetlights spread across the city. Even at four a.m., Manhattan is noisy and full of life. I need help. Urgently. I take another inhale before throwing the cigarette away, head back inside, and start searching for that business card. I find it on the hall table and add her private number to my WhatsApp. It’s decided—I’ve got to be with this Rafaela before Rio, before I can see Petra again.

  Alone in my office, I’m happy the meeting with Singapore went well. Focusing on work is vital to forgetting her. There’s one more thing I have to do. I take out my iPhone and make a call. “Hi, Rafaela? Alexander Van Dieren. How are you? Enjoying New York?” My face softens with a smile. “Glad to hear it. Look, I’ve been thinking about our conversation from last night…” I laugh at her words. “Exactly, how to keep ourselves young. What do you think about having dinner tomorrow, eight p.m.?” Yesss. I clench my fist in victory. “I’m glad to hear that. Perfect, I’ll text you the address. See you soon, bye.” I hang up.

  I can’t help but beam with joy. I’m finally getting my emotions and feelings back in control.

  Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door.

  “Mr. Van Dieren? My apologies for the interruption. Andrew Sullivan is here. He has a meeting with you at two p.m.”

  I roll my eyes. “Sure.”

  Andrew walks forward, stepping into my office.

  “Mr. Sullivan.” I stand up from my chair and go to shake his hand. “How are you doing today?”

  “Very well, Mr. Van Dieren, thank you. And congrats on the meeting with Singapore. I heard the negotiations are moving along well.”

  “They are indeed. If everything goes well, we should sign the acquisition by November twenty-fifth. It’ll be a big expansion.”

  “I’m glad to hear. Um, I have here the reports from all the interns.” He hands me a file. “I also put in my recommendations for hiring, in case you are interested.”

  “Great,” I reply, going back to my chair, my eyes already glued to the first page.

  Andrew sighs, feeling his presence is no longer required, and walks with head down in the direction of the door. “Mr. Sullivan?”

  “Yes?” Andrew spins on my voice.

  “What do you think about hiring Jess?”

  I want to be irresistible tonight. I feel like breathing again, excited, like a kid playing a game I know perfectly. Rafaela and I will be having dinner at Asiate—a delicious fine-dining restaurant with a great sommelier and an extensive wine selection at the very top of the Mandarin Oriental. It offers sumptuous panoramic views of Central Park and beyond. I’ll need wine, a lot of wine. But once I’m half tipsy and with such a beddable Brazilian blonde in my arms, the rest of the night will go just fine. Rafaela will probably jump on me first. That’s what I like about those women—I don’t even need to make the first move. They know exactly what they want and are confident enough to serve themselves.

  I wait for her in the lobby of the hotel. She doesn’t take long to arrive. She’s punctual, just like me. Hands in my pockets, I observe how everyone stares intently at her while she crosses the doorway. Rafaela looks as gorgeous as the first night I saw her. She’s wearing a knee-length black trench coat, open to reveal a skin-tight red dress underneath. It’s ruched on one side with an asymmetrical hem—long on the right side and short on the left. Her wavy blonde hair falls to her chest. She nods at me with a grin and walks in my direction with a natural hip swing.

  “Mr. Van Dieren,” she greets, before giving me a cheek kiss. “You look great.”

  “Not as great as you, I’m afraid.” She smiles at my compliment. “Shall we?” Rafaela links her arm with mine, and we head to the elevator that will take us to the thirty-fifth floor. Her eyes twinkle as she steps into the intimate restaurant with its sumptuous views of Manhattan.

  “This view is insane!” She gasps in surprise while staring out the glass wall to Central Park and Upper East Side, which are all lit at night.

  My face softens with a smile. I knew she’d like it. “Indeed, I like the view.”

  “Mr. Van Dieren, so good to see you here,” greets the sommelier, shaking my hand.

  “Good evening, Derek. It’s great to see you too. Can’t wait to be surprised and delighted by the wines you’ll pick for us tonight.”

  “The wines?” asks Rafaela.

  “I’m thinking of ordering the tasting menu with wine pairings. Don’t worry, it won’t be heavy. The chef will do something light and healthy, and the portions are small,” I reassure.

  “Sounds like you know exactly what you want,” she replies in a cheeky tone. “For me that sounds perfect.”

  “If I may, your table is over here.” Derek waves at a waiter who escorts us to a table with fuchsia booths located in a private corner beside the glass wall.

  “What do you think of my choice?” I ask, seeing her face glow as she savors her glass of Saint Emilion. “Was it worth letting the chef and sommelier surprise us?”

  She nods with a smile. “Very much so. It’s the first tasting menu I have had that is actually healthy and not heavy.”

  “Actually, it’s not really on the menu. Although I think they should add it.” I take a sip from my glass. This wine is indeed fantastic. “So, what are your secrets to keeping yourself so young? Might you share some with me?”

  She smiles deliciously at my question, wetting her lips, and move to sit beside me. I can see enough of her cleavage to notice her black lace bra. Then she leans closer to my ear. “Do you
want me to show you?” she asks with a sensual tone. But of course. I smile and nod. She presses her lips against mine in a lingering kiss. And I’m very happy she does so. Finally, a kiss from someone else; after all, the last lips I’d kissed were— “Can’t wait to get to your apartment and show you the rest…” Rafaela whispers.

  I grin, picturing the rest. “Let me help.” I call for the waiter and gesture for the check. Afterward, I kiss her again, this time feeling her tongue caressing mine longer.

  Once the bill arrive, I want to cover it entirely, but when she insists we split, I say, “In Rio, I’ll be your guest. You can invite me wherever you want. But in New York, you are mine.” She smiles radiantly at my wordplay.

  My iPhone beeps. The driver has just arrived.

  I hold her hand, and we go out to the street. I open the rear door, and we get inside the black Rolls-Royce Phantom, which is waiting for us at the curb. She seems quite amazed to find it has an opaque glass wall that can be used either as a TV screen or to block off the front of the car. “I have never seen this before.”

  “You mean the isolation wall?” I ask, closing the door behind me.

  The car starts moving, and I strip off my jacket.

  “Yes.”

  I notice she has already removed her coat—the view of her deep cleavage makes it difficult to look elsewhere. “It’s actually soundproof—the people in front can’t hear or see us. And with this intercom, I can communicate with the driver.” She nods at me as I explain.

  In a sudden move, Rafaela sits astride my lap, lifts her dress up, and starts devouring my mouth lustily. I grab her ass and squeeze it tight. “Then let’s enjoy it,” she murmurs between kisses.

  This woman is fantastic. Her breath comes out short and loud. She hurriedly unbuttons half of my white shirt, kissing my neck through the open collar and fondling my chest.

  I grab her waist and lie her down on the leather bench. I like to be on top. I continue to devour her, but a flashback of that nightmare runs instantly through my mind. I stop kissing her for a brief moment and swallow hard. I reach for her lips again, but my heart tightens, knowing it’s not hers I want. I feel so angry with myself. My body is not responding to her presence, her kisses, or her touch. I focus my mouth on her neck, but it’s neither her skin I want to suck, nor her perfume I want to inhale. Indeed, there is not a trace of jasmine... I look back into her eyes. They are brown.