RED: A Love Story [Featured List]

Part 2: Black 9 - In the bedroom

The orchids on the coffee table were replaced with a silver candle holder and a lone flame. Around it, glass platters offered a variety of Arabic specialties Marco had prepared. The menu included dumplings in yogurt sauce, raw salmon kibbeh and fattoush salad, as well as sweets from a traditional deli. The air was prevaded with honey and herbs.

When the clock turned nine, she arrived preceded by a floral fragrance. She wore a satiny strap top and black skirt, her high-heeled sandals matching a pair of pearl earrings and a golden necklace. Marco couldn't help but gaze at her in awe.

It was always the same. In her absence, Marco tended to forget how pretty she was. His eyes took in her young body, returned to her oval face, stared into the irises that emanated sparkles and ignited his own desire. Marco oscillated in the frontier of lust and disquiet. It was such an odd sensation, that for an instant he savored it while attempting to define it.

"Why are you staring at me? It's like you've never seen me before," she said smiling.

"It's nothing."

She approached Marco with an insinuating gait.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She leaned toward him. "How about my kiss?"

Her lips greeted Marco's as her hands slid up his white shirt and rested lightly on his shoulders. She then on the sofa and crossed her legs as she studied the surroundings with curiosity. She frowned at the sight of the food and sought an indication of what was to come. This time, however, there was nothing in sight to hint at Marco's intentions.

"What are we doing tonight?" she asked. Her pupils dilated.

Marco looked at her in silence. This was his last chance to back down. He could always get the valise and improvise a game. It held all sorts of toys. She wouldn't even notice the change of plans.

He hesitate, glancing at the bedrom door. He paused and finally said:

"Let's have dinner first."

The two sat cross-legged on the floor, around the coffee table, drinking arak to Oriental music.The melody was a summer night- lute-harp and stars, guitar and crickets, percussion and breeze in the foliage.Tu mera dil tu meri jaan...Pakistani artist Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan sang about life in the form of a woman, wishing her to sit before him so he could gaze at her always and always. His heart, his life.

In the meantime she sat there, tasting the food and throwing furtive glances at him. Until she was unable to refrain herself any longer:

"What did you plan after all?"

"Just wait and see. Didn't you say you like surprises? Be patient."

Marco emptied his glass and poured more arak for both of them. He was about to raise the drink to his lips when he changed his mind and returned it to the table. She took a long draft and pushed the plate. her hands on the edge of the table, the fingers taping with a reflection of golden nail polisher.

"I've had enough, thank you."

A smile.

Now what?

It was what her gazed asked and his didn't reply. The air closed upon them. They eyed each other. Marco reached out for the glass of arak but gave up once more and drank water. Marco stood up, reached out for her and helped the partner rise to her feet. He drew her near, leading her in the music cadence.

She nestled up against his chest and they danced in place, cheek to cheek. Marco shut his eyes and tried to capture the womanly scent masked by jasmine. He skimmed his lips on the exposed nape of her neck, kissing the shoulder slope, pushing aside the top strap with his teeth to nibble the flesh.