The Price of Desire

by PE Kavanagh

  It didn’t take long before I started to feel conspicuously alone. I fiddled with my phone, hoping it would be a good distraction. Maybe I should send him a quick thank-you note. For brunch. That would have been the polite thing to do, certainly, ulterior motives aside.

  I looked up his number and saw, for the first time, the note he had written me the first day we met - yesterday:

  Looking forward to our trip to Argentina.

  Wow, this guy really had a hold on me. The energy in my body spiked as I thought about him. The memory of his hands on my face, and his lips finding mine, kept replaying itself in my head. It was making everything just a little bit warmer than even this hot desert day.

  I typed: Brunch was a wonderful surprise. Much like you have been. (Wow. A bit provocative, if I did say so myself.) Deepest thanks for your thoughtfulness. When Lizzy wakes up I’m sure she will also thank you. Smiley face. Send.

  My body began shaking. Actually shaking. What did I expect, that my text would magically summon him and he would appear before me, ready to pick up where we’d left off?

  Alright, I said thank you. I reached out. Did my part. Now I would just sit back and enjoy this beautiful day. I was about to take a magazine from my bag when my phone buzzed.

  Oh boy. It was probably him. Nervous as anything I turned the phone over to see what he said. I appreciated his prompt response in any case.

  Where are you?

  Funny. Direct. Okay, I’d play along.

  At the pool. Watching the beautiful people do their thing.

  You must mean BEING the beautiful people. Excellent.

  Not quite sure how to respond to that. Thank you? Maybe some modest phrase? I stared at the message as if it was in another language. Was I supposed to ask him his whereabouts in return? Wasn’t that a bit too intrusive? But he did it, so maybe that was okay. I sat there pondering the rules of communication and appropriate behavior for minutes. I began responses then erased them, finding them too provocative or serious or ridiculous. It amazed me how much time I could spend analyzing just a few words...

  “Excuse me, ma’am? Here is your champagne.” A Vegas-style, scantily clad server appeared before me. She was a knockout. Wow.

  “No, I’m sorry I didn't order this.” She held two glasses anyway and I was clearly by myself.

  “Hmmmm...” she wondered. “Um, Ms. Malone, right?”

  Now she had my attention.

  “How did you know my name?”

  “That gentleman, by the bar, sent them over for you.” And there, of course, was Marco, grinning from ear to ear. He enjoyed these surprises too much - finding me across a crowded casino, sending me brunch and now my favorite beverage. A girl could get used to this.

  His linen shirt fell open as he walked toward me, and I saw just enough to keep me from actually breathing. I’d seen him in a suit, jeans, and now swimwear, and he just kept getting better looking.

  “You are everywhere, my friend,” I laughed and shook my head at him.

  “If only that were true.” Were we both thinking about our separate sleeping arrangements last night?

  He bent down to kiss me, and I expected to offer my cheeks but he caught my mouth. We were both surprised, but lingered there. Everything from last night came bubbling to the surface again. Daylight and a change of scenery hadn’t dimmed this fire.

  “How are you today?” he asked.

  “Doing pretty well, considering…”

  “I would say you are doing quite well, just from external evidence. May I join you?”

  “Of course, but I consider both of those glasses for me, so you'll have to get your own.”

  “As you wish,” he said, with that smile that made me want to rip my clothes off.

  “I’m going to start to think you’ve secretly embedded a locator chip in my arm, or something. Your ability to find me in the most unlikely places is quite impressive.”

  “We are like magnets, Bella. Can’t you feel it? It is inevitable that I find you.”

  All I could do was take a slow sip from my glass, and avoid his gaze. This was too much.

  He helped me with a change of topic. “Are you swimming, or just laying here being gorgeous?”

  “Actually, I was planning on reading a bit. Maybe having a bit of a catnap. It is Vegas after all. All about pleasure.”

  This made him laugh. “Yes, pleasure. What a thing to pursue.”

  “I’m not sure what to say to that Marco. Are we making a point?” Defensiveness about last night’s events, or non-events, seeped into my tone.

  “No point, Bella.” He returned my look with a huge grin, not saying anything more. I was sure he was thinking what a nut-job I must be.

  “I’m not sure if you're attached to this particular spot, but we have a private cabana just behind the bar, if you are interested.”

  “I would love to,” I said graciously.

  He picked up the glasses, offered me his arm, then wrapped the other one around my waist and held me for a moment before moving. When he kissed me again, ever so lightly, a shiver ran down my spine that nearly set me down on my ass. But there he was, holding me up in his strong arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  Family History

  He led me to a much more private area, with its own pool. A wonderful piece of sun and shade and civil behavior. A few of the guys from last night spread out on their own loungers.

  We sat on the largest one, the size of a bed, and made ourselves comfortable. It was downright sexy.

  “Are you swimming, Marco?”

  “Yes, I did already. The water is very nice.”

  “So, you were already here when I texted you?”

  “Right here, thinking about you.”

  “But you don't look wet.” Okay that sounded very strange. Couldn’t take it back now.

  As he took his shirt off, I couldn’t believe it was even better than the initial view I had gotten. He was sculpted and bronzed and flawless. I desperately wanted something to be wrong with this man. Otherwise, I had no chance.

  He rubbed his hands along his arms and chest, and I immediately flashed to something pornographic.

  “I suppose you're right. I have dried off. Which means it's time for another dip.”

  He pulled me up again, right after I chugged down the rest of my glass of champagne. I was about to be in front of this god of a man in my swimsuit. Heaven help me.

  I peeled my dress off slowly, trying to be as seductive as possible, while feeling as awkward as I could imagine. A schoolgirl trying to be a seductress. The story of my life.

  As soon as my dress was off, I pulled him toward the pool, trying to conceal myself underwater as quickly as possible. He was right. It was wonderfully refreshing. And quiet enough that it felt tranquil.

  I began to float on my back and his hands moved underneath me, holding me up and gliding me across the water. It was delightful to feel him touching me, without the hot urgency of desire. It was still there, certainly, but muted by the cool lapping of water on my flesh.

  Occasionally he bent me around his body, holding me close to him, like a baby. I stroked his body gently, enjoying the opportunity to experience him this way. I was tall enough rarely to feel small with a man, but in his arms I was completely contained.

  “I am very grateful for this pool right now,” he said after we’d been floating around for a few minutes.

  I gave him a quizzical look.

  “I get to enjoy you, with my eyes and my hands, while we’re both wearing very little.”

  He was grinning but all I wanted was to sink to the bottom of the pool. He noticed.

  “You are so… what is the word? Inscrutable. Sometimes you are so confident and commanding, and sometimes I feel you are like a little girl - shy and nervous.”

  “I’m not sure inscrutable is the right word.” There I went again with my pathological need to correct. What could I say to vault over that gaff? “Isn’t that like all women?”

 
; “No, Bella. You are not like any woman I have ever known. I am so intrigued by you.”

  He paused and I watched him form a thought.

  “You are very charming. And mysterious. And of course, strikingly beautiful. It makes me want to study you, like a piece of art.”

  “I’m not sure I want to be studied like that. Seems very impersonal.”

  “Maybe like a meal, then. Which I would consume. With pleasure.”

  It took everything I had to maintain my composure, which I wasn’t sure I did successfully.

  “You are very smooth, Marco. You say these things… they are unbelievable.”

  “Aaah, do you not believe me?”

  He brushed his lips against my shoulder. I shivered in the warm water.

  The smallest move of his hand, and my top would be off. I could have slid my hands down his shorts, and he could have taken me, right there, in view of all of Las Vegas. I wanted to scream: Take me! Love me! Right now! I believe you with all my heart!

  I couldn’t look at him. “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “So it is my job to make you believe.”

  I desperately wanted to move to a neutral topic. “Tell me something about your life, Marco.”

  He smiled with a look that told me he knew I was uncomfortable with the intensity of the conversation. He abided.

  “What would you like to know, Bella?”

  “Anything you want to tell me.”

  “We’ll start at the beginning. I was born in Buenos Aires, the oldest of three children. My father is Argentinian and my mother was Italian. They met when they were young, both students.”

  “How did they meet?”

  “My father had gone to Italy to study architecture. Actually, I think he was studying women, but that’s another story. My mother was working in a gallery, studying painting, when they met. He says he went in to ask for directions, and he left with the love of his life. It’s all very romantic, you know.”

  His eyes sparkled with mischief and I just wanted to keep looking at him.

  “The story is that he whisked her away to Argentina, despite her parents’ refusal. My grandparents always denied all of that. They claim that they gave their blessing.”

  “Were they happy?”

  “Yes, they were very happy. My father got more and more successful and my mother got to live a life as an artist and a mother, which is what she always wanted.”

  “I mean together. Were they happy together?”

  “Yes. But it was a different time. Every man in Argentina had mistresses. And he was no exception.”

  “How did you feel about that?”

  He was clearly uncomfortable. Maybe I was asking him to reveal too much.

  “I know it’s not right. But I don’t think we can judge other people’s relationships. They were better together than most couples I’ve seen in my life.”

  I wanted to stop myself, but I couldn’t. “How do you feel about fidelity?”

  “I think it’s hard. And not necessarily natural. It’s tempting to get what you want whenever you want it. But I think that is the price you pay for… love. That sometimes you sacrifice what you want in order to get what you need.”

  I was stunned by that answer, unsure whether I agreed or not.

  “How do you feel about fidelity?” he asked me.

  I wanted to get this right. “It’s hard enough for me to share myself with one person. More than one at a time is out of the question.”

  He laughed and I realized what I said was funny. It was not intended that way. I slid myself out of his arms and submerged myself in the water. I needed a break.

  He was floating when I rose out from underwater. I just wanted to watch him, stretched out in all his glory, but he stood up as soon as he saw me.

  “Would you like to go sit down for a while?” he asked.

  “Yes, that sounds like a great idea.”

  He held my hand the short walk over to the lounge area. I loved how physically attentive he was to me. I tried to think about the quality that most impressed me and it lay in the mixture of tenderness and courage. He’d been fearless in showing me his interest, without being aggressive. Whatever he was doing, it was working.

  I lay down first on the lounger, leaving him plenty of room to spread out, but he brought his body right up to mine. The view of the cloudless sky was wonderful, but I turned on my side to get a better view of the man next to me.

  “Tell me about your siblings,” I asked.

  “My sister lives near my father, still, outside of Buenos Aires. She is the baby, but I feel like she has been taking care of us her whole life. She is a natural mother – which is good, as she has five kids. We are very close.

  My brother lives in Milan, near where my mother lived. He is a designer. For fashion. Quite good actually. But a bit like a child. Always so competitive, with me and the world. Never got married or settled down. Just enjoying himself with all the models.”

  “Sounds like that trait runs in your family.” I realized how rude that must have sounded and I regretted it immediately.

  He didn’t respond.

  “I'm sorry for saying that. I guess I'm a bit sensitive about men cheating. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Did your husband cheat on you?”

  “Yes. Many men have. My history is fairly… sordid.”

  “I'm sorry to hear that. It surprises me. You are so amazing, Monique. What could these men have wanted that you did not give them?”

  “Aaaaah… that would be quite a long list, I believe. I’ve made many mistakes, Marco. And behaved quite badly on many occasions. I tend to withdraw, or shut down, if I feel threatened. This is not conducive to a loving, trusting relationship, apparently.”

  It was unclear where this level of honesty was coming from. It was not my typical way.

  “Do you feel uncomfortable talking about this?”

  “Yes, a little bit. Maybe a lot.”

  He put his hand on my cheek and held it there for a moment before bringing his face to mine. Feeling his warm mouth gave me the goosebumps.

  “You seem so open to me, Monique. I can’t imagine you being withdrawn. Maybe you chose the wrong men.”

  “Perhaps. But I was the common denominator. Somehow I got in my head that men are not to be trusted. Which is strange because the two most important men in my life – my father and brother – were the most trustworthy people I’ve ever known.”

  “Were your parents happy?”

  “They had a fairy tale romance. I’ve never seen anything like it. They met on the beach in the islands and fell in love at first sight. They even died together.”

  “I'm so sorry, Bella. How terrible for the rest of you.”

  “Yes, I can’t say I'm fully recovered from that. My brother died shortly before them, so I feel this huge gaping hole where my family used to be. At least I have my sisters. They are my lifesavers.”

  He didn’t stop looking at me, but I had to avert my eyes. Tears began to build at the bottom of my throat.

  Something a bit less sharp was needed to cut the emotion.

  “Even Jeff, my evil ex-husband, was supportive about my family.” I was only mostly kidding.

  “I guess you don’t have the best relationship.”

  “Actually, we do now. But it was very bad. For very long.”

  “How long have you been divorced?”

  “About three years now, but we had started living separate lives years before that. It was very messy and slightly complicated.”

  “Will you tell me about it?”

  “Are you sure you’re ready?”

  “I'm absolutely ready, Monique.”

  That statement sent chills down my spine.

  “But first,” he continued, “can you lay right here, on my arm?”

  Marco stretched his right arm toward me, and tapped the area of his chest just below his shoulder. I was happy to slide my head into that most wonderful resting spot.
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br />   “Are you sure you won’t get too hot?”

  “Monique, Bella, it’s hot whenever you’re around. That’s how that works.”

  I flushed, knowing how hot I felt with him. I took a deep breath of his scent and my body tingled.

  “We were kind of a strange couple, well suited in so many ways, but never this grand love affair. It just made logical sense for us to be together. I was hypnotized by how powerful and sure of himself he was and I think he saw me as a unique possession to go with his other possessions. He had plotted out our whole lives, he liked things to be well thought out and predictable. But I wanted an adventure.

  We did okay. For a while. We were both so absorbed in our careers and happy enough, and then when Lola was born, the whole precarious house of cards came tumbling down.”

  He listened intently. Part of me wished he wouldn’t. I wasn’t particularly proud of this period of my life.

  “Jeff started resenting my career and insisted that I quit and stay at home. It was really hard for me to do that. I just became more and more indignant until it didn’t work anymore to even be in the same room. It was ugly for a long time but eventually we found our way back to being good co-parents and even friends. He’s happily involved now, about to start a brand new family and it’s all very exciting for him.”

  “Did he cheat on you?”

  “Jeff is not one to be neglected very long and when the trouble started he began a relationship with a nurse at his hospital. What a cliché, right? The reality is that they’re a perfect couple. She’s very young, and completely interested in subsuming her life for his needs. I have to admit she’s a lovely girl and much better suited to him than I ever was. She’s great with the girls and I'm happy with their relationship.”

  I paused to collect myself. “What about your marriage, Marco? What happened?”

  “Like you, we did okay too. We were very convivial. Like brother and sister. My father began doing business with her father when we were kids and the families became friends. We grew up together, and I was so obsessed with following in my father’s footsteps that I just made the decision I would marry this Italian girl, just as my father had. I didn’t think it through, obviously, and well… we know how it ended.