The Bitter Love-Song III

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The Bitter Love-Song III

1989

"If you swallow, this isn't going to work." Athina's voice softly giggled. "You can't spit it back in there."

"If I can't swallow and I can't spit, what you expect me to do?" He questioned his words distorted as he tried to speak.

"It shouldn't be in your mouth in the first place."

"Too late now."

"Fine swallow, but you better have left some. OK, turn it over, but don't look. You wanna go first?" The tone in her voice lowered seductively.

"No, you." Kid slid the pads of his fingers over the softness of her thighs that draped over the armrest as they sat in a corner. Their bodies folded into each other on an old wingback chair, the velvet upholstery so overstuffed there was barely enough room for a single sitter. Her space had been carefully crafted over the years for only one, now it seemed there were two.

"Fine, but you better do it right."

"Don't I always." Hiding his smile behind her shoulder, he nibbled lightly before lacing his arms through hers to reach the porcelain cup and saucer that perched unevenly on her lap.

"Stupid." Again, her giggle lifted above the quiet of the small apartment, giving more warmth to the glow of the candles that dotted the crowded space. She turned the teacup three times on the saucer before lifting it back up to peer inside.

Lowly, he grunted as he looked at the remnants inside the cup she just overturned. She could feel the subtle vibrations of his throat as he pursed his lips, letting out a disapproving click.

"What?" She usually loved those gentle sounds, a small burst of energy as they would leave him. This time, it seemed forced and ominous; she wasn't sure she liked what he saw in the cup. Athina tried to investigate the porcelain base, but he shielded it from her view so she couldn't make out the little clumps left behind.

"Oh, there's a baby." Days before he had found a book on divination downstairs. They had been sitting for hours telling each other what their futures held. Taking each other through multiple lives, wives, book deals, Oscars, plane crashes, evil twins, comas, murderous lovers, and though she objected every time, ex-husbands. In the end, no matter how involved or ridiculous he had always made his way back to her. The bell on the door of her bookshop never making a sound as he entered just as he had the first time. This was the only future she had accepted without question.

"There's not a baby." She whined, her body beginning to squirm beneath his arms, straining to catch a glimpse of the remnants of the leaves that edged the bottom.

"No... there's a baby." As he peered into the bottom of the cup, a perfect little face in the clumps stared back at him. Through all the futures that had played out over the evening, some as dramatic as a telenovela, there had never been a baby... but then suddenly there she was.

He felt Athina's body tense against his. Stiffening his grip around her waist and the cup they both held, he knew exactly where she would be heading... away. When she grew uncomfortable, she would dart, fleeing as fast as she could from the situation, whether real or imagined. She would never go far, sometimes she would want him to follow, sometimes she needed a breather, sometimes he felt she was running from herself or the thoughts she fought against. Those words coming too far to the surface. He would always see that reflection in her eyes, the need for him, but she would flee before they had a chance to make it to her lips.

"Just because you see a baby doesn't mean it's actually a baby, Kid." She huffed, starting to shift uncomfortably, no longer finding fun or humor where she had seconds before.

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