Pretending not to notice her lingering embarrassment, he went on nonchalantly, “I have a roasted chicken and some kale. Since I’m leaving tomorrow, there’s no point in throwing out good food.” He pulled ingredients out of cabinets and the fridge. Then, as he began cooking, he said, “You should practice the Sat Nam every day while I’m gone. It’s the best daily exercise for moving your energy up. And if you want to do the heart-warming kriya you just learned, most definitely do.”
Luna thought she saw a little glint in his eye at that suggestion, but didn’t reply.
He continued casually, “Luna, what happened is not unusual. Many women have this experience. They hold a lot back from their sexual expression, so release isn’t unexpected.” He smiled openly at her, and she was relieved she no longer felt uncomfortable. He made it seem natural, like they were friends and she could trust him.
She watched as he threw some penne pasta into a pot of water he’d set to boil and cut the chicken in quarters, putting it in a pan in the oven with the kale. He wielded the chef’s knife with such confidence, it was like an extension of his hand. He’s so sexy in the kitchen, she thought. Suddenly, the sound of his phone buzzing broke the spell. He picked it up and typed feverishly in a chat with someone. Luna didn’t understand why, but she was upset his attention was no longer on her. When the kettle whistled, he stopped texting to finish preparing their lunch.
While they waited for the food to cook, he told her about his dog, Stella. “I’ll be so happy to see her and take her running along the river. She has boundless energy and loves going for hikes.” Nico got up and moved to a bookshelf, where he picked up a framed photo of himself and a pretty black and white dog with a pink nose. In the picture, Stella was cradled in his arms. Both of them were grinning like it was a big joke for him to carry such a huge dog.
“I rescued her from people who use dogs for fights. Some of them are called bait dogs. They let the fighters attack the bait dogs for practice. Stella was destined to be bait, because she was too sweet.” He paused, a troubled look on his face as he remembered the awful destiny awaiting Stella had he not interceded. “Ita feeds her too much, so Stella always sits next to her at the table, begging for scraps.” Suddenly exclaiming, “¡Maldita sea!” he flung open the oven door, pulling the chicken out just in time. Filling her plate, he coaxed, “Eat, Luna. You need to eat!”
After lunch, he said, “I need to get some gifts for Ita, my mother, and my sister. Can you come help me pick out some things?” When she said she’d be glad to help, he smiled gratefully. “Remember I saw those vintage bags in your car? Let’s go there. Would they have things for me to get that aren’t too expensive?”
Luna perked up. “I have a better idea. Let’s go to my office. We can look through the items that haven’t been selected for the show. I’m sure we can find something for each of them.”
“You won’t get in trouble for that?” He sounded genuinely concerned.
“No, there’s always extra, and at the end of the season it all gets donated anyway.”
At the office, Nico browsed through everything like a kid in a candy store, fascinated by all the stuff she had. She had to scold him slightly to slow him down, because although it didn’t appear so, everything was tagged and organized.
As he browsed, he fretted. “I always bring them gifts from my travels, but in L.A. everything’s so expensive.”
She consoled him, “Don’t worry, Nico. Remember, this is my job. I’ll find something for them that’ll be perfect.”
At a rack of cashmere sweaters, she selected a cream cardigan with pearl buttons. “Here, Ita can wear this with anything.”
Nico touched the sweater gingerly. “She’ll really love this. It’s so beautiful—and soft.”
Thinking of something perfect for his mother, Luna opened a big drawer and pulled out a Pashmina shawl with hand-tied fringe in a paisley of colors reminiscent of Monet’s Water Lilies.
“Perfecto!” He exclaimed, thrilled at the selection. He stepped out of her way as she quickly moved around him to open a closet filled with clear boxes, where she picked one off the shelf.
She didn’t know his younger sister, Lucia, but had gone to her Facebook page and saw that she was very pretty, with Nico’s eyes and dark hair. Something a bit trendy would be fun for her, Luna thought, presenting him a necklace of turquoise beads with a silver cross. The look was modern and tribal at the same time. Relieved, he sighed, “You’re really good at this, especially without knowing them. These gifts are perfect!”
Luna beamed with delight, proud of herself for solving his dilemma. With gifts in hand, they drove back to Amaru, where they sat in the car in the parking lot for a while, talking about his business.
Expounding on his plans for the future, Nico shared, “I’m going to do a clothing line. Maybe you could help me with the designs and manufacturing?”
She was excited by his ideas. “I’m honored you’d want to include me.”
“Ah, Luna. I trust you as a friend, and I respect your talents.” After a moment, he reminded her to recommend him to her friends and have Tyler do the same.
Luna was sad he was leaving, but felt selfish because his mother was, after all, very sick. She got out of the car as he walked around to her side to give her the traditional double-cheek kiss. Instead, she wrapped her arms around him in a comforting hug, holding him close. “I’ll pray for your mother. Please e-mail me, Nico. Let me know how she’s doing.” She watched as he walked toward the building, then stopped to turn back and look at her with melancholy, pleading eyes. Thinking how much she would miss him, she drove away, struggling to focus through the tears blurring her vision.
5
It had only been two days since Nico had landed in Buenos Aires, yet he consumed Luna’s thoughts. Unable to wait any longer, she messaged him. His quick response provided only the smallest consolation.
Luna
She is not good and won’t eat. I just fought with her because of it. Everyone loves the gifts…thank you.
Inseparable from her phone, she anxiously awaited word from him. Finally, when an e-mail arrived, the weight lifted from her chest.
Luna
Today a man in a room near my mom died from a heart attack. It was very sad. Life is so weird sometimes. One minute you are here, and the next you are not.
She remembered telling Nico that he would help her and she would help him, and now realized how prescient her comment had been.
Waking before dawn, she felt the distance between them. Reaching to get her phone off the nightstand, she saw the message from Nico.
Hi Luna
I feel useless. All I do is go back and forth from the hospital. My head is back in L.A. Is it wrong for me to want to leave? There is nothing I can do to make her better.
I want to leave…
Luna knew he’d regret leaving without closure, so suggested he stay and make the most of their time together. Taking a book off her shelf, she copied a poem by Jetsun Milarepa, Tibet’s great yogi and poet:
In horror of death, I took to the mountains—
Again and again I meditated on the uncertainty of the hour of death,
Capturing the fortress of the deathless unending nature of mind.
Now all fear of death is over and done.
Obsessively clutching her phone and looking at it, she waited.
Hi Luna
The poem is very beautiful and very deep… I think it’s just a matter of time now.
Besos, I miss you…
The next day, she received the message his mom had passed away. As sad as Luna was, she was glad the worst was over. This time when she wrote, it was to his family, and she signed it from herself and Tyler. But she really wished she could hold Nico.
During his stay to handle his mom’s estate, he sent pictures from the house, and later, photos of himself at the beach. Hoping she didn’t sound audacious, she wrote back admiring his beautiful muscular legs. She studied the photos for
perspective on who he was and where he came from. When she opened a photo of him standing with a spear in one hand and an octopus in the other, it took her breath away. His lean, toned body had attained a healthy glow, his hair had grown longer, and he was wearing the Om pendant she had given him.
“Olivia!” Manny’s shout pulled her back from her reverie. “What’s wrong with you? Pay attention; that table has been waiting!”
Olivia had read Nico’s e-mail so many times, she’d memorized it. Having read it yet again, she shoved the phone into her pocket and headed over to the annoyed customers. With each e-mail, Nico flirted more, saying he longed to see her again and was unable to get her out of his mind.
Soon the e-mails became sexually explicit, and Olivia was careful to keep her phone with her. After serving her tables, she darted to the ladies’ room and locked the stall door. Pulling her panties down, she sat on the toilet and reread one of the e-mails, following his instructions carefully. As she inserted a finger into her vagina to locate the small mound he said was inside, she realized he didn’t suspect her virginity. Curling her finger upward, she felt around until she found the mysterious mound and began pressing slowly, as he described. Quickly, Olivia found herself wet, and the juices from her pussy ran down her finger. She reached her free hand into her bra and fondled the nipple of her right breast, twirling it between her thumb and index finger.
She prayed no one would come in the bathroom, since her breathing was heavy and audible. He had said to hook her finger slightly and curl it back and forth in a come-hither motion, and she felt the mound hardening as she stroked it repeatedly. Unable to sit upright, she gave herself over to her pleasure and leaned back, her legs stiffening as she continued flexing her finger to caress it lovingly. Sliding her finger in and out, she rubbed her slick juices over her pulsing sweet spot as it swelled under her tutelage. Wetness exploded into her hand and her pelvis arched upward in ecstasy as the rolling waves of orgasm consumed her. Completely overwhelmed, she took several moments to recover. She had never had such a long and intense orgasm when masturbating before. In the past, she had only fondled her clitoris until she had a gratifying release. Clutching her phone, she obeyed Nico’s directive to reply with a detailed account and how she had felt each step of the way.
Having never experienced anything so thrilling, Olivia rushed home from work that night, eager for the next installment. He had told her to take a feather and lightly tease her clitoris, but she wasn’t allowed to touch herself with her hands. Slowly, she tickled her nub with the feather. She’d never used anything other than her hand to play with herself before and the sensation was delectable. A low ache began, and lying comfortably alone in her bed, she gave herself over to the feeling. Dragging the feather back and forth, she moaned, her hips rising and falling as she felt herself drawing closer to orgasm. She pinched her nipple hard, pulling on it as she had done earlier in the bathroom stall. Groaning loudly, she thought she might come undone any second, and in a frenzy of lust she dropped the feather and pushed one finger inside while massaging her clit. The waves of her powerful orgasm crashed around her, sending every muscle in her body into spasms.
Olivia wrote explicit details about her experience, detailing how the feather drove her wild. Deciding the truth was actually most erotic, she admitted to touching herself as she climaxed, describing how she’d screamed out and shoved her fingers into her pussy. Captivated by this bewitching game, she awaited his reply.
Nico’s next e-mail said that because she’d broken the rules, she was to be punished. At first she was distressed, thinking he was angry with her. But reading on, she became enthralled.
Reluctant to take the next step in this game, Olivia stared intently at the image of Nico’s dark, smoky green eyes to build her nerve. Then, with an open hand, she began to spank her pussy, at first very softly, until she mustered the courage to spank harder several times before plunging her finger back into her now dripping pussy. Squeezing her nipple hard, she spanked herself again, intoxicated by the intense euphoria overpowering her. Curling her finger inside and petting her spot, she came apart, shuddering and crying out Nico’s name. She couldn’t wait to try out these fantasies in real life.
Grateful for having learned her mother’s native language of Spanish, Olivia followed signs to the baggage claim area. She’d received an e-mail from Nico stating he had to stay in Buenos Aires to handle legal affairs. In an unexpected tone distinctly different from his erotic missives, he wrote he was lonely and wanted her to be with him during this mournful period. It had taken some pleading on her part to persuade her mother and Kathy to allow her to go, but she finally succeeded when she told them his grandmother and sister were both there—pouring on the tears and dramatically underscoring how despondent Nico was over the loss his mother. Her performance was, she thought, irresistible.
Exiting security, she scanned the crowd for Nico’s familiar face, and when she spotted him, her breath hitched. The tight T-shirt he wore clung delightfully to his sculpted chest, and the well-worn jeans clung to his thighs. He kissed her neck, then embraced her, giving her a deep, passionate kiss, flicking his tongue just slightly around her lips as a prelude to what would soon follow.
As they drove through the narrow streets, she soaked up the sounds and colors of Buenos Aires. Coming from California, she was captivated by the historic architecture. Nestled in the sanctuary of historic Pasaje Santamarina, an interior passageway hidden from the bustling streets of the San Telmo district, Olivia’s eyes widened upon passing through the elaborate iron-gated doors. The ceiling towered twenty feet above them, and iron lanterns mounted on the cream colored, dadoed walls cast a soft, yellow glow on the chocolate brown glazed Moroccan tile floor.
She felt she had been magically relocated to the turn of the century, surrounded by opulence reminiscent of one of her beloved operas. Moving through a pair of large dark-green doors, they stepped into a glass-roofed conservatory with tiled floors in a classical arabesque design, complete with bubbling stone fountain in the center. A stout black and white dog with pink nose greeted them excitedly, the entire back half of her body wiggling wildly. Nico bent down to let her lick his face as he grinned. “Olivia, meet my first love, Stella.” Stella kept close to him as they continued through the house and he softly explained, “To get from one room to another, you must pass through this patio. So, princesa, you can never get lost!”
Sensing they were alone, Nico gave Olivia a quick and secretive tour the house. Off the patio, double glass doors opened to a formal living room with a French balcony overlooking the courtyard, where a giant palm tree towered over the roof. She felt oddly reassured to see a large flat screen TV hanging on one wall alongside oil paintings. Another set of doors led to a spacious dining room with a large crystal chandelier hanging over an enormous wood pedestal table. Olivia gasped, “This looks like a ballroom!”
Nico laughed, “Well, as a matter of fact, formal dances were held in this room for many generations!” Finally, they sat down at the cozy kitchen island and Nico opened a bottle of the best Malbec he could find in the house. After pouring some into two cut-crystal wine glasses, he tucked the bottle under his arm and whispered, “Let’s go, before someone comes home.”
Entering his room, he closed the door behind them. “We’ll have to be careful how loud we are, cariño,” he whispered as he sat down on the bed to take off his shoes. The high carved bed was styled with a crisp white duvet and embroidered white pillow cases; a colorful Uzbek Suzani was folded at the foot.
Olivia’s eyes landed on an oil painting above the marble-topped night table. “What a charming painting. It’s quite haunting…but I love it,” she remarked. The image was dark and moody—an elderly man wearing a hat played guitar under a street lamp on a misty evening in the Plaza Dorrego, San Telmo’s main square.
Nico turned. “Oh, my uncle is a famous Argentine painter. I have a painting he did of Ita in my apartment. You’ll see his work throughout the house.”
She had barely taken two sips of the Malbec before she felt Nico’s arms around her. Gathering her to him, he kissed her gently once. “Ah, Olivia, your lips are sweet.” Holding her tightly, he kissed her with short brushes of his lips, coaxing her playfully, teasing her mouth. Melting into him, she tentatively let her hands play in his hair, twirling a long lock around her finger as he nibbled on her upper lip with quick little tugs. She shivered, letting out a soft sigh when he gently sucked on her lower lip, pulling slowly until her mouth relaxed under his persuasion.
Remembering the night in her car, she responded, taking his velvety smooth lips in hers. Slowly Nico worked her mouth open flicking his tongue along the inside of her lower lip. Finding her tongue, he coiled his around hers in a silent dance of exploration. Entwining his fingers in a tangle of her long, brown curls, he held her head and his kisses became more fervent, his mouth devouring hers. With a passion that would have once alarmed her, but now only heightened her arousal, they kissed feverishly. Inflamed by the swelling in his groin, she greedily pressed her body more tightly against him. Nico released a low pleading groan that made her pussy throb in answer to his call. Thrusting her pelvis forward and grinding against his throbbing cock, she felt the wetness grow between her legs; the scent of her desire permeated the room.
Seizing her by the wrist, Nico fingered the front of her T-shirt with his free hand and lifted it over her head. Her panting caused her heaving breasts to spill over the violet lace cups of the Victoria’s Secret bra she’d purchased just for this occasion. Gingerly, Nico reached in to cup her firm tit, then lifted it to his lips taking the perfect pink nipple in his mouth—sucking gently until it grew erect. Gasping, Olivia reached for his shirt, desperate to undress him, but Nico stayed her hand. Pulling steadily on her nipple with his lips, he glanced up at her and murmured huskily, “No, I will make you come hard before I let you touch me.” Frantic with need, she held her breath while Nico unzipped her jeans and eased them down over her hips. Dropping to his knees before her, he directed her to first lift one foot, then the other as he undressed her. Mesmerized, she silently obeyed his commands.
The Sleeping Serpent: A woman's struggle to break an obsessive bond with her yoga master Page 7