RED: A Love Story [Featured List]

Part 2: Black 1 - A plunge into the abyss

PART 2: BLACK - A PLUNGE INTO THE ABYSS

Autumn, March 2013

HE WAS WAITING FOR HER in the living room. Sitting on the couch with a glass of scotch in his hand, Marco listened to a classical piece by composer Kodaly Zoltan about the hussar who renounced everything to be with his sweetheart. The Fairy TaleBegins. Since Marco had just come out of the shower, his hair was still wet and the black T-shirt clung to his slightly damp torso. He took a long draft of the whiskey swimming in ice. Autumn arrived bringing back the height of summer, in one of those typical São Paulo mood swings. In normal temperature and pressure conditions, the thermometer would not be registering ninety degrees in the shade.

She pushed the door and entered, tossing her purse onto a chair. Dressed in a low-necked beige top and bandage skirt, she swayed her hips as she circled the coffee table to reach the sofa. She asked what they would be doing that evening. Marco pointed to a white shopping bag at the feet of the couch, bathed in the dim light of the side lamp. With barely restrained curiosity, she picked up the bag, laid it on the table and studied the contents. She lifted the items one by one, examining them with a critical eye. Her interest faltered.

"What's this?" she asked in disconcert.

"Didn't you say you wanted to try new things? I bought it for you."

She evaluated the web of black leather strips and metal rings. After thinking for a moment, she returned it to the bag with a brusque motion. She didn't like that. When he asked why, she grew irritated:

"Why can't we be like normal people?" Her breathing became fitful . "This is... this is wrong."

Her hands trembled-it was hard to say if her reaction was triggered by indignation or by fear of herself and what she was capable of doing. Marco just held her hand. He made her sit on the couch and poured her a glass of whiskey with a generous amount of ice. He reassured her they would only do what she felt like doing. She took a sip from the glass, a bit calmer, while he sat next to her.

"Don't you enjoy our games?" Marco put his arm around her shoulders and held her chin, making her stare at him. She tried to avert his gaze, but he insisted: "Don't you like them?"

She nodded, her own admission making her feel a sting of humiliation.

"Then trust me," he said.

"What if the situation gets out of hand? I don't want to lose control, Marco..."

That would never happen, he assured her. Didn't she understand? Marco studied her face. What he saw was a pair of inquisitive eyes as she moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. That same tip devoid of answers.

No, she did not understand.

"This is a trick of mirrors," said Marco, pausing to give his words a chance to sink in. "But in order to grasp its essence, you need to look past the surface. Mirrors are multifaceted, and not everything is as obvious as it seems."

"Sometimes you talk through riddles, Marco. I don't get it."

"I'll put it another way. Have I ever done anything you didn't like?"

She brought her lips close to the brim of the glass, shaking her head in a short motion. After a moment of hesitation, she left the glass on the table. Her fingerprints slowly blurred on the cold crystal.

Marco gazed at her with a smile in his eyes. He ran his index finger across the curve of her shoulder, going up to the neck, tracing the jawline until it reached her mouth. There, it lingered in a caress. She couldn't suppress the shiver that followed the gliding of Marco's finger.