When they had finished the song, Nico’s eyes lingered on hers before moving to her lips, then resting on her breasts. Lavishly admiring her, his lips curled in a surreptitious smile. “I’ll get you a job singing at La Forza, my uncle’s restaurant.”
Olivia had hoped for something more romantic, but his approval was ample reward.
Luna and Sam hadn’t stopped all day. Racks of clothes stood all around them, with tickets bearing scene numbers and actors’ names attached to each outfit. Now it was 6:00 p.m. and they were almost done. Luna hadn’t had time to think about Nico, but now she was getting antsy to leave. Picturing his smoky green eyes, she decided to head over to his studio, and asked Sam to wrap up for the day.
At a red light, she turned up the volume of Van Morrison’s “Moondance,” and reached into her handbag on the seat next to her, fingering the little pouch she had quickly placed inside. While putting together looks for the show, she had come across a silver Om pendant on a black leather cord. The accessory closet in the wardrobe room overflowed with jewelry and trinkets—none of it particularly valuable. Knowing Om represents all that is sacred, the talisman seemed appropriate to the work she was doing with Nico. It will look very sexy on his warm olive skin, she thought, remembering the feel of his hard chest and strong arms when he had embraced her after the despacho ceremony. She hoped he would like the pendant, and accept it as a token of her friendship and gratitude. She hesitated slightly. After all, she was paying a lot of money for his services. Why was she giving him a gift after knowing him so short a time? But she liked him and enjoyed being in his company.
The traffic was lighter than she expected, and arriving at the studio early, she followed the sound of meditative music. A class of about ten people stood in a lunge, arms above their heads and hands in prayer position. Feeling a little voyeuristic just watching, she went into the chamber to wait. Looking at the wall of artifacts where Nico had retrieved all the items for the despacho, she noticed they were lovely pieces, just like ones in a museum. Hearing Nico’s phone vibrating, Luna thought how glad she was he didn’t bring it into their sessions. She was dependent on her smartphone, and accustomed to urgent phone calls and text messages from the studio and actors’ agents with demands and schedule changes, but she wondered what could be so urgent about Nico’s business. His studio was always peaceful and mystical, yet he often seemed anxious.
Walking into the chamber, Nico greeted her with the now familiar double-cheek kiss, and she hugged him, startling herself with the unexpected display of intimacy. He took a quick look at his phone to check missed calls and text messages, then put it down looking mildly annoyed and said, “Come, bella, let’s begin your session.”
Taking her hand, he escorted her into the studio, where his Spotify channel was still playing. Luna tried to concentrate, but he seemed distracted, and his eyes lacked their usual intensity. She could hear his breathing, tense and shallow.
During the Sat Nam kriya, he placed his firm hand on her belly, coaching her to be more emphatic on Sat and relax on Nam. “Good, Luna,” he said. “You’re not as shy about having a forceful expression in your breathing. I’m pleased.” She brightened at his praise.
When her session had ended, and she was gathering her belongings, Nico said, “I haven’t eaten anything all day. Would you like to come with me to my friend’s restaurant?”
Remembering the Om necklace, she thought it would be a good opportunity to give it to him. “Sure, I’m hungry, too,” she called out happily.
Nico held the door open for her. “It’s just a mile down the road. Let’s take your car.”
The restaurant was a cute little café with salads, pizza, and pasta, which all sounded like good comfort food to her. When the waiter approached, Nico waved off the menus, ordering a big arugula salad with cucumbers, vinegar, and olive oil, and one large pizza. Luna watched how he relished his food, eating with passion. Sipping her water with lemon, she thought a glass of wine would be good, but almost immediately focused back on Nico, intoxicated by him instead. He was a great storyteller, entertaining her with tales about a job he had in Argentina selling copies of fine art door to door.
“I wasn’t allowed to leave without selling something. So, because I had to, I surveyed their house to get a feel for what they would like, then persuaded them to buy whatever I presented.” He sounded so confident. “Because I was convinced they needed the artwork, they were too. I won the top sales award for the company!” he added triumphantly.
She laughed. “I can easily see how you can command a room, convincing anyone of anything you like,” she said sincerely. Hearing Nico’s story, it dawned on her that she shared this talent. Her job required a delicate balance of pleasing the actors and the director, while coming up with the right look for the characters.
As though he’d read her mind, he gazed deeply into her eyes. “Bella Luna, I think we have a lot in common. You’re a very beautiful woman. I’ll help you awaken inside, and be younger and more beautiful than you’ve ever been,” he cooed.
Unable to hold his gaze, she looked down, a bit self-conscious. Then, calling on her professional self, she looked up right into his eyes and declared, “You know, let’s cut the crap. I’ll help you, and you’ll help me.”
Nico chuckled, then nodded, his hair falling over his mesmerizing eyes.
Those eyes know many things, Luna thought, and have seen many things. She wondered about his past and all the places he had been. Reaching into her handbag, she took out the little mesh pouch with the Om necklace and handed it to him unceremoniously. “This is a little something I thought you may like.”
With ritualistic attention, he removed the necklace from the pouch. Contemplating, his head bowed, he studied the silver pendant while slowly rubbing his thumb over the raised Om symbol as though trying to release the genie within. Looking up, he fixed a penetrating gaze on her as he carefully placed the leather cord around his neck and grinned. “I love it—this means a lot to me. I’ll wear it always.”
Olivia rummaged in her closet for what to wear to La Forza. She was nervous, though she wasn’t certain whether it was because she’d be singing, or because she’d see Nico. There was now a pile of clothes on the bed, and nothing seemed right. The girls she had gone to school with wore all the newest styles, but Olivia didn’t try to compete with them. She didn’t have the money, and the frivolity of shopping as entertainment didn’t appeal to her.
Deciding between a floral dress from H&M and the J.Crew lace miniskirt she’d gotten for graduation, she chose the latter so she could pair it with a new periwinkle peasant-style blouse that complemented the color of her eyes. The tiny mother-of-pearl buttons were meant to be left undone, revealing the curves of her breasts, which Nico had admired so overtly.
“Love you, sweetie,” she cooed, giving Brontë a kiss on the head. Plucking the car keys off a hook by the door, she headed out, thankful she had cleaned her blue Mini Cooper earlier that day since La Forza had only valet parking.
She entered the dark restaurant and paused to let her eyes adjust in the dim light. Spotting Nico chatting intimately with an exotic looking dark-haired woman, she felt a sharp pang and tightening in her belly until she realized the woman was much older. Nico quickly made an introduction. “Olivia, this is Luna,” he gestured to the woman, “and her husband, Tyler.”
Olivia was greatly relieved to hear “her husband,” and shook their hands.
While sharing eggplant parmigiana and a bottle of wine before her performance, she told Nico how Kathy had become like a fairy godmother, financing Olivia’s privileged schooling, and giving her entrée to opportunities she would not otherwise have had. Regardless, she still worked to help pay her way, not wanting to take advantage of Kathy’s generosity.
Hearing her name announced, Olivia’s stomach leaped, but Nico encouraged, “Princesita, remember your breathing. And remember you are an opera singer.” He held her eyes. “And you look incredibly beautiful tonight.”
His eyes fell to her cleavage.
Delighted by his admiration, she coquettishly twirled one of the long errant tendrils that had escaped her loose side braid around her finger. Feeling confident, she looked around the restaurant and caught Nico’s eye as she began Violetta’s aria “Sempre Libera” from La Traviata. She sang softly, allowing the tempo of the aria to take shape. Her coloratura voice lilted perfectly as she sang “dee volare,” and soon the diners were singing along.
After perfectly hitting the final high E flat, many people stood to applaud and shout “Bravo.” She couldn’t hold back a huge smile as she curtsied, certain this was her best performance of the famous aria. She noticed Luna nodding her approval as she passed their table. Hugging her, Nico purred into her ear, “You see, you are an opera singer.”
Olivia’s head swam with his compliment.
Mario, delighted at having found a new star to sing at his restaurant, brought over a bottle of champagne to celebrate, and after drinking several glasses, Nico shared some solemn news. “I’m sorry to say this now, but my mother is very ill, and I have to go to Argentina as soon as I can.”
Mario shook his head. He’d known of her illness for years, but hoped this day would not come soon. Olivia’s face fell. Reaching for Nico’s hand, she consoled, “I’m so sorry. What can I do to help?”
Nico’s brow furrowed, then he looked up, his eyes piercing hers with longing. “I don’t want to lose you Wait for me.”
Later, they stood in silence while the valet collected Olivia’s Mini Cooper. After handing over the tip, she got in and was buckling her seatbelt when Nico suddenly swooped into the passenger seat, directing her to pull the car to an unlit corner of the parking lot.
He reached over to turn off the headlights and leaned into her. Nuzzling his face in her hair, he murmured wistfully, “I’ll miss your sweet smell, princesita.” The whispering sensation of his breath on her neck and in her ear made her swoon. Nudging her face gently with his nose, he sighed her name as his mouth found hers. Her breath grew desperate when his hot lips explored the outlines of her mouth, and she felt a warm wetness forming between her legs. Until that moment, Olivia had no idea a simple kiss, without tongues, could have so much effect. Tentatively, she threaded her fingers into his hair, giving herself over to the passion consuming her. Letting out a pleading groan, Nico pushed his tongue into her mouth, deliciously dancing it around hers. She shuddered, the unfamiliar sensation making her pussy quiver and her clit throb.
Nico’s fingers drifted into her blouse and she whimpered softly, lifting her body to him welcomingly. Her nipples instantly hardened as he fondled her breasts through her bra. Then deftly reaching into the lace cup, he lifted one breast to his mouth and softly flicked his tongue across the nipple. Moaning, she held his head with both hands, arching into him as he licked and teased. “You taste so sweet,” he purred, his lips tugging on the puckered stem. “I’ve been dreaming of your perfect tits.”
Pulling his head up, she hungrily pressed her lips to his, encouraging his ardor. Probing his mouth with her tongue, she imagined it was his cock inside her pussy. Gingerly, he placed his hand on her knee, then slowly slid his palm up the inside of her thigh and underneath her skirt, stopping as he neared her panties. She inhaled sharply in ecstasy, the fires of her lust burning. Crying out, she opened her thighs wider, giving him a hot, wet invitation.
Emitting a strangled groan, he abruptly withdrew his hand.
Olivia squirmed in frustration. Her entire body ached with desire.
Lost in thought, he mused, “Look, we’ve fogged up the windows.” Turning back to her, he ceremoniously placed her breast back into her bra as if it were a valuable artifact he was careful not to break. Gazing intently into her eyes, he tucked a ringlet behind her ear and murmured huskily, “Olivia, you are hard to resist. I want so badly to fuck you now. You’ll wait for me, won’t you?”
She nodded, then self-consciously lowered her gaze. “Will you write to me?”
“Every day.”
He got out of the car and strode away without looking back, while hot tears fell from her eyes.
4
Tyler’s class schedule had been heavier than normal, and lately, weekends were dedicated to writing his blog and working on the book. He was at his desk when Luna interrupted, “Do you want to go to the farmer’s market later, then we can stop by The Parlor for guacamole and a beer and watch soccer?”
Looking up, Tyler was at first annoyed she’d broken his train of thought. “I have to finish this today. I’m jammed. Text me later and I’ll let you know.”
Luna was about to turn and go when he commented, “I see you’re going to yoga.” He’d stated the obvious, seeing she wore black practice pants and a tank top depicting Ganesh, the elephant-headed Hindu god of protection. “What time will you be home?”
She sighed, “If you would make plans to do something with me, I’d come straight home.”
He struggled with that idea for a second before waving her away. “Call me later. I’ll try to finish and get this posted.” Then he turned his attention back to the computer screen.
Even in his late forties, Tyler had a youthful appearance. At six feet two, he was lean and well-built, with a Ralph Lauren model appearance and dazzling smile that drew admiring looks from women, including his students. When they had first started dating, Luna couldn’t help feeling threatened. The men she had previously been involved with had been players, and she’d been burned too many times. When Tyler confessed after only a few weeks that he was dating her exclusively, she surprised herself by jumping in with both feet and never looking back.
She would have liked for him to commit to her plan, or even come up with one of his own. Instead, she murmured, “OK, I’ll call you,” and left. She’d packed well-worn boyfriend jeans and a black crocheted Free People top into a Ralph Lauren kilim tote bag, glad it was a weekend so she didn’t have to skip out on work with more vague excuses.
Sensing her disappointment, Tyler called out, “Luna?” When she came back, he apologized. “I’m sorry I’ve been so busy. Let’s do something tomorrow. We can go for a run and have an early dinner. How about sushi?”
She leaned over, putting her head between him and the screen, and gave him a kiss. “I love you, honey. Of course, that would be great. I’ll call you later.” At the door, she added as an afterthought, “So today I might hang with Nico if he’s not doing anything.”
Tyler smiled, but she wasn’t sure how genuinely. As she turned to leave, he said, without sounding judgmental, “I guess you have yourself a new project, huh?”
She chuckled and shrugged. “I suppose maybe I do.” Having found it all very exciting, she’d told him every detail she could recall about the despacho ceremony, Nico’s life, and Kundalini Yoga, adding that Nico seemed lonely and needed a good friend.
Not sure if she might get cold, she put on her favorite Nigel Preston & Knight stone suede fringed jacket and left.
Following Nico’s voice, Luna found him in the office, yelling in Spanish at someone on the phone. Looking up, he gestured for her to come in and sit down. He had on a simple black T-shirt, and she was happy to see he wore the Om necklace. After a few more minutes, he said “Besos,” and hung up.
Running his fingers through his hair and gently tugging at the roots, he gazed up at her. She saw his eyes were moist. “I don’t know what to do, bella. That was my sister. She said my mother is getting worse.” He walked over to a hot kettle and poured her a mug of tea, then refilled his own. “I’m going to have to go home and nurse her back to health again. She won’t take her medication and wants to give up; she’s tired.”
In a flash, she was back in sixth grade, overhearing those words, “She’s tired,” spoken between her father and relatives. Luna didn’t know what to say. Nico spoke as though she knew what he was talking about, but she didn’t. After a moment’s thought, she replied, “If your mother needs you, Nico, you should go to her right away.”
Then she asked, “Is it just you and your sister? Does your sister live with your mother?”
He gazed down pensively at his hands and answered quietly, “Yes, she lives with my mother and Ita, my grandmother, in San Telmo. The house has been in the family for generations. There’s also our beach house in Pinamar from my mother’s family. That’s where I found the seahorse.” His eyes grew distant. “I loved being there when I was a boy.”
“How did you end up here, Nico?”
His face darkened. “When I was four, my parents split up, and my dad moved to New York City. He visited us in the summer, then I was sent to live with him when I was around ten. My mom wasn’t around much, and I started getting into trouble.” He snuffed, “My dad had a restaurant and worked all the time. And his girlfriend didn’t want me around.”
Though encouraging him to continue, she winced at the thought of little Nico being sent away to a foreign country. It stirred up memories of the copious neighbors who took her in after school, waiting for her father to get home from work and collect her.
Nico’s voice curtailed her reflection. “When I finished high school, I went back and taught yoga in Buenos Aires and then at my friend’s resort in Kerala, India. But I felt there was something more I needed to do with my life, so I went to live with the Q’ero. I took tourists up for healing ceremonies with the paqos and learned all I could from them before moving back to New York.”
Worriedly, he questioned, “How can I go to Argentina now? I have a following, and I need to save money for the studio in Beverly Hills.”
Not wanting to pry, Luna didn’t ask what illness his mother had. Instead, she simply reiterated, “You really should go be with your mom, Nico. We never know the time that is given to us. I lost my mom when I was eleven…”
Taking her hand, he kissed the back of it softly. “Bella—I did not know this…you’re such a good person. I feel lucky I met you and that we’re friends.”
The Sleeping Serpent: A woman's struggle to break an obsessive bond with her yoga master Page 5