Turning abruptly, Nico raised his hand. Stopping short of striking her, he spoke in a measured, low voice, “Don’t you raise your voice at me or insult my friends! I will hurt you. Don’t provoke me!”
He stormed out of the house, and suddenly alone, Olivia’s anger melted as she burst into tears. For the next several hours, she lay in a ball on the sofa and sobbed, until he finally returned. When he strode through the door, she ran to him. “I’m so sorry, Nico! Please don’t be angry, and please don’t leave me alone again,” she pleaded, relieved when he led her into the bedroom.
Silently, Nico pushed her face down on the bed. Quickly pulling off his leather belt, he deftly tied her hands behind her back. In one swift motion, he pushed her skirt up and ripped her lace thong off. Olivia’s heart raced. Anticipating his next move, she was electrified by his rough urgency, glad he returned and wanted her—however he wanted her. His smoky green eyes turned dark. “Don’t speak, Olivia. Don’t say a word. Don’t even look at me. I will have you the way I want you.”
Yanking her to the edge of the bed and kneeling on the floor, he slid his hands over her ass, then parted her cheeks as he lowered his lips to the mouth of her pussy, ready to devour her. She writhed in expectation as she felt his breath near the entrance, and when his tongue flicked over her clit, she shivered uncontrollably. Digging his fingers more firmly into her ass, he spread her pussy lips apart with his mouth, stiffening his tongue to run the tip all the way around the rim before pushing into her. Gasping for air, Olivia groaned, pressing her pussy hard to his mouth. Darting his tongue in and out, he lapped up her flowing juices. She squirmed in rapturous delight, every nerve in her body tingling exquisitely. Her pussy bared to him, he relentlessly fucked her with his tongue, slowly and deliberately lavishing attention on her G-spot, building the tension inside her. Her entire body heaved, edging toward release. Unable to stay silent, she begged, “Please…”
Nico stopped.
Snickering as he leaned back to stroke himself, he warned, “Don’t you dare come unless I say so.”
Watching him, she moaned in frustration, and he smacked her ass, bringing her to a frenzy. Her pussy, dripping wet, throbbed with thwarted desire.
Admiring his trussed-up prize, Nico spread her thighs apart and rubbed the tip of his massive erection rapidly across her clit. Gripping her hips tightly, he thrust himself into her. She gasped, arching her back, then whined softly and dropped her face back onto the bed. Nico watched his stiff cock plunge inside her, disappearing from view, then emerge again as he drew himself out, entranced by the sight of his fat dick cleaving her open. Olivia heard his breathing become ragged as the flowing wetness from her pussy made erotic sucking sounds. Holding her by the ankles, he leveraged his body into hers, picking up the pace. She let out a strangled cry when he thrust harder, repeatedly ramming his cock into her. Feeling herself close to the edge, she whimpered with each punishing thrust as his groin slapped into her buttocks.
“Don’t you dare come,” he growled.
Reaching forward, he clutched her by the shoulders and dug his fingers deep into her flesh, his weight pinning her to the bed. Breathing rapidly he murmured huskily, “I love having you this way.”
Her face now pressed into the mattress, everything slipped from consciousness except the feeling of Nico’s cock rubbing the walls of her pussy, stretching her open. She felt him twitching inside her as he climbed higher. Unable to touch herself, she groaned and bore down to rub her clit against the bed sheets as he powered into her. Shuddering, she exploded violently, convulsing rapidly around him.
Feeling her pulsating, he slapped her butt hard. “You’re being punished, Olivia. You’re not supposed to enjoy this!” The sting of his harsh words and slaps increased the intensity of her spasms, causing him to erupt, spurting hard into her.
Untying her and turning her over so they faced each other, their sweaty hair intermingling, he kissed her deeply, his tongue circling hers. Running his thumb over her mouth, the yellow flecks in his eyes flared. “I own you, Olivia. You’re mine. Do you understand me?”
Free from the bonds, she stretched her limbs and purred blissfully, “And you’re mine, Nico, always.”
Driving to Amaru, Luna felt her heart racing. She hadn’t seen Nico since before he left for Buenos Aires, and found it sweet that he had texted her when he landed. Nearing the studio, she felt that butterfly feeling in her solar plexus. It was very intense, and she wondered if it was from the Kundalini breathing. She had noticed a change already, especially at work, and Googled about the chakras, learning that clearing in the solar plexus removes fears and expands possibilities.
Walking in, she found Nico in his office on the computer. The apartment door was open, which was not typical, but she assumed he was moving back and forth, getting things in order. He bounded toward her like a big, enthusiastic dog and hugged her. “Bella!” He kissed her on both cheeks, which she eagerly returned. “Oh, Luna, your friend Sofia Lombardi emailed me, and I’ve already scheduled her for next week! But I’m sure she told you she was contacting me, right?”
Happy to see him so elated, she chimed, “Yes, she told me she would!”
Nico flitted about, doing a number of things seemingly all at once. “Well, thanks for referring her. Listen, bella, we’ll do your session in a little while. But first I need to run some errands. Walk with me.”
She eagerly agreed. While he’d been away, her life had returned to normal. Not bad. Just normal. Being around Nico again stirred her soul. She was captivated by his energy. Even accompanying him to the store was exciting. Something out of the ordinary always happened when she was with him.
“Good, we’re just going down the street.”
Outside the studio, he looped his arm toward Luna and repeated, “Walk with me.”
Smiling, she linked her arm in his as they walked the few blocks together.
First they went to Nature’s Way, a health food store Luna had never been to. Nico greeted a woman with a double-cheek kiss, then introduced her. “This is Angelina, Luna.” The tone in his voice held a certain reverence.
A beautiful woman about Luna’s age, Angelina was intriguing, and Luna thought she might be a witch. She wondered if the incredibly attractive streaks of silver in her hair were real or dyed that way. She and Nico appeared to have a secret to which only the two of them were privy.
Nico continued, “Angelina grows and dries her own herbs and sells them here.”
Holding up a large paper sack with his name written on it, Angelina said, “Here you are niño.”
Realizing she had just called him “child,” Luna smiled inwardly.
Angelina continued, “The herbs were ready over the summer, so I prepared your order. Everything you asked for is here.”
“Wonderful. I have to get some other things, so I’ll pick that up on the way out.”
Angelina nodded, and Nico took Luna by the arm again as he grabbed a basket in his other hand. Luna felt the butterflies stir in her belly, for a second uncomfortable it might seem she was more than a friend, but secretly reveling in the idea. Following him as he roamed the store, she noticed he took time to examine the contents of each bottle. He explained he was seeking the freshest of the special oils to be used for ceremonies and massage, and Luna couldn’t help fantasizing what it would be like to feel his strong hands on her body, his long fingers kneading her muscles.
Taking the bag from Angelina, Nico double-cheek kissed her again and whispered something into her ear. Smiling knowingly, she nodded her head.
Before heading back to the studio, they strolled the stalls at the local farmer’s market. Sunlight filtering through the colorful awnings created kaleidoscopes on their skin as they walked. With her arm linked into his, they leisurely browsed the offerings at most of the vendors. Stopping to sample a goat farmer’s cheese, Nico placed a morsel in her mouth, asking if she liked it. The intimate gesture, rather than discomfiting, made her feel she’d known him for years.
Nearing the end of the stalls, a crowd had gathered to watch a boy trying to catch a small bird that was unable to fly. Waving the boy off, Nico got down on his knees and cupped his hands, capturing it easily. Gently stroking its crown, he made soft chirping sounds as they continued along with the bird in hand as if it were an everyday occurrence. Luna asked quietly, “What are you going to do with him?”
“Come, I know where we can free him.”
Beside the bank was a small playground, and they waited on a bench until they heard it—a cacophony of birds chirping. Nico set the bird down under a hedge, and the small creature looked up at him, chirped a few times as if to say thank you, then hopped deep into the covering bushes. Luna felt certain Nico was able to communicate intuitively. There was something magical about him that she found enchanting.
When they returned to Amaru, Nico didn’t offer to do her session, as she expected. Instead, looking at his desk, he fretted. “Do you mind helping me with this, Luna? The mail piled up while I was away, and the bills are terribly late.”
She could imagine feeling overwhelmed by the large pile, and readily agreed. “Of course.”
Sighing in relief, Nico put the kettle on, and they settled into side by side chairs. Taking charge, Luna decided the best method would be to sort the mail according to urgency. Showing him what she’d done, she got frustrated when he began methodically looking at each piece of mail, including coupon booklets. This was something she would have sped through, yet for Nico it was like shopping, where every item was given far too much attention. Thinking he should know the difference between what’s junk and what’s urgent, Luna went into his apartment, found a big garbage bag, and started dumping the junk mail.
“No, no! Luna!” he cried out in panic, snatching the mail from her before she was able to toss it.
“Well, that’s not going to work,” she announced out loud. Looking at Nico still scrambling to retrieve junk mail from the garbage bag, she suggested, “How about we try something else? This will take all week if you keep up the way you’re going.”
When Nico looked up at her, she saw his anguish and gave him a gentle hug.
“OK,” he replied, looking more hopeful.
Luna sat down and took the entire pile of mail. Then, one by one, she called out the name of each piece, explained what it was, and once he understood, convinced him to throw it away.
Opening the bills, Luna was puzzled, but happy to help, when he asked her how to fill out the checks. But Nico quickly became increasingly distressed. “I can’t believe how much money I owe!” he exclaimed in alarm.
Feeling his mounting anxiety, she tried to reassure him. “Don’t worry. You’re getting a lot of new clients!”
When they could finally see the surface of the desk, he sighed and said, “Thank you, Luna. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you. Why don’t you stay? I’ll make tuco, Argentine meat sauce.”
Behind his magical eyes, Luna saw a sad and lonely boy. Although part of her knew she needed to get home to Tyler, she’d missed Nico terribly when he was away. She trailed him into the apartment, where he reached into a cabinet and brought out a bottle of wine. Seeing her cocked eyebrow, he said, “Yes, I did drink a bit of wine while I was in Argentina. Being home with friends and family, and with the stress…Do you want a glass?” Luna hesitated, but since he was offering and having a glass himself, she accepted.
Saying he didn’t want it splattered with oil, Nico took off his shirt and worked bare chested, browning the meat and sautéing onions and peppers. He was so natural in the kitchen; the way he wielded the knife, moving gracefully around the room, laughing and telling stories. Luna had never seen him this relaxed, and she admired the sight of his bronze skin. If he didn’t teach yoga, he would surely be a chef. He made ravioli as if it was no effort, rolling out the dough and cutting the shapes, the muscles of his forearms rippling enticingly. He filled them with a mixture of chopped spinach, ricotta, egg, parmesan, and to Luna’s surprise, a dash of nutmeg. Setting up a pot of water to boil, he floated them in the water delicately until they were done. She was enthralled by the effortlessness with which he produced a gourmet meal, and they relished every bite, talking and drinking till she was stuffed and could barely move.
With a second bottle of wine in hand, they moved to the seating area, where Nico picked up his guitar and played a gypsy song. Before long he was lost, and Luna watched him close his eyes, hair falling in his face. Seeing the black cord on his muscular neck as he bent over the body of the guitar, she noticed the leather had softened from sweat and salt water; it was clear he hadn’t removed the pendant since he’d put it on. She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and when he stopped singing he gazed up at her, green eyes smoky and glowing. “Luna, you are very important to me.”
Her insides fluttered, and she scooted a bit closer to him, emboldened by the wine.
He continued, “I feel so close to you, and I trust you more than anyone else in my life.” He rested the guitar on his lap. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at her, as if unsure he should continue, then finally said, “Luna, I want to tell you something—about my mother.”
She waited patiently for him to go on, sensing this was difficult.
“I never told anyone, she died of AIDS.”
Astonished, she sensed he was gauging her reaction. “I’m sure that was hard for you. Do you know how she got it?”
“From her boyfriend. He didn’t know he had it. Please don’t tell anyone…I’m only telling you because I trust you.”
“I would never say anything, Nico. I promise.”
He nodded, fingering the guitar strings, then stopped. “I’d just finished high school in New York. I guess I was about seventeen. I’ll never forget. She was talking to me on the phone, and when we finished, she asked to talk to my father. When he picked up the extension, I didn’t hang up. I don’t know why…I think I sensed something from her. They talked for a while, and then she told him she was HIV positive. When my dad hung up, he could tell by my face that I’d overheard them.”
Luna edged closer and took his hand. “I remember when my father told me that my mother had died. I was eleven. She’d been away in a hospital for a long time…my dad never took me to visit her. I guess he didn’t want me to see her so sick. She had leukemia. No one told me, but I just knew she wasn’t coming back.”
He had tears in his eyes. “That’s sad, Luna. You were just a little kid. Well, I had to go back to take care of her and make sure she took her medicine.”
Still holding his hand, Luna offered, “That took a lot of courage.”
He sniffed, “It was very hard. She was stubborn and I fought with her. After a while, I just couldn’t stay…” Putting his head down, he plucked the guitar strings. “That’s when I went to Kerala. These friends from Buenos Aires closed their ad agency and opened a spa and yoga retreat there. They invited me to teach yoga, and desperate to get away, I went. I loved my mother, but I was very depressed, and there was really nothing more I could do for her.”
Luna consoled him, “You did help her. I’m sure she didn’t want you to sacrifice your life.”
Walking to the bookshelf, Nico picked up the black and white photograph. “Have you ever been to India? Kerala is like paradise. It’s on the southern coast. I fell in love with an Indian girl there and stayed two years.” His face changed as memories flooded him. “Nitya…her name was Nitya. She was so beautiful—and sweet.”
He returned to the couch and handed the photo to Luna.
“It would have been so easy to stay there in paradise with Nitya. But I wanted to do more with my life than teach yoga at a resort, so I asked her to come with me, but she wouldn’t. I said we could go live in New York, but she wouldn’t leave India—or her family. She was innocent about the rest of the world. She thought small and wanted me to stay and make a life there instead…it was all she knew. I left.”
Fingering the strings of the guitar, he began playin
g “Spanish Getaway,” a song by Yoga Tribe that Luna loved. She’d been listening to Amaru’s Spotify playlist at work. But as much as she loved hearing him play, she’d been immersed in his story, and was glad when he continued.
“I went back to Buenos Aires to see my family. I’d heard about tourists going for healing ceremonies with the Q’ero and wanted to take my mom, but she wouldn’t go. So I went to learn. I stayed with them, getting my training and bringing tourists up for ceremonies. When I returned home, I did healing on my mom, and it worked for a while…” he trailed off.
She was quiet, then said softly, “I’m honored you shared all this with me. You did a lot to help your mother. You did your best. That must be why you decided to make this your life’s work. Do you see how everything happens for a reason?”
He gave a half-hearted nod. “This time, I fooled myself into thinking I could heal her all over again. But she didn’t want to make the effort. She simply refused to take her meds.” He paused before again pleading, “Luna, please don’t tell anyone. I’ve never told anyone before. You really mean a lot to me. You’re the closest person to me right now.”
“Of course I won’t tell anyone, Nico. You can trust me.”
A heaviness had permeated the room. Attempting to lift his spirits, she ventured, “How is Olivia doing? Is she still singing at La Forza?” Luna thought she caught a glimmer of uncertainty in Nico’s eyes.
Avoiding eye contact, he hesitated before saying, “We’re seeing each other.”
He looked up at her sideways, as if to gauge her reaction. When her expression remained impassive, he continued, “She came to visit me in Buenos Aires when she heard my mother died.”
Luna’s stomach fluttered, but she displayed her bright professional smile. “Oh, how nice, Nico! She’s so pretty and has such a beautiful voice.”
“She is very beautiful.” He enunciated each syllable slowly, then added, almost as a concession, “But very young. She’s like a baby.”
Luna found the salacious way he said the word “baby” disconcerting, and flushed with embarrassment. She couldn’t help feeling jealous, remembering the pictures he’d emailed. “Ah, so that must be who took all the great photos of you!”
The Sleeping Serpent: A woman's struggle to break an obsessive bond with her yoga master Page 9