RED MIST FALLING

by Richard T Green

  I ordered the martini so it would be waiting for her when she arrived. Tonight was going to be different. It was time for me to call the shots, that was a given.

  I should have known better.

  Zana appeared next to me, flashed a quick smile, and downed the martini in one swig. ‘I'm starving.’

  ‘Is that a deliberately vague dinner invitation?’

  She moved closer, her face expressionless, looked me right in the eyes. ‘Are you going to feed me or not?’

  ‘Do I have a choice?’

  She turned away, grabbed the Armani bag from the stool. ‘Luigi's. It's not far; we can walk.’ She was halfway to the door, the same one she'd come through little over a minute before. ‘You coming, or is your butt welded to that stool?’

  I followed her through the heavy wooden door, out into the early evening nightlife of Soho. Huge raindrops bounced off the pavement, and a blur of rain-soaked people seemed to be everywhere, hurrying past us like ants. Zana pulled the loose-fitting hood on the red cape she was wearing over her head, slipped her arm into mine, and headed off along the sidewalk at a crazy pace.

  ‘Are you always like this?’ I gasped, doing my best to keep up with the super-charged lady in red at my side. Not that I had a choice, Zana’s arm locked into mine with an iron grip.

  ‘Like what?’ she sounded a little puzzled.

  ‘Kind of… all action.’

  She threw me a smile from the depths of the hood. ‘Time is precious, Madeline. More than you know.’

  Luigi Mortadelli's round moustached face broke into a beaming smile as his guests arrived in the foyer of the eatery that bore his name. The epitome of Italian restaurant owners, he made it his duty to personally welcome every diner who graced his tables.

  ‘Ah, Miss Zana… so wonderful to see you again.’ He slipped the dripping wet cape from her shoulders. ‘It is not so good, the weather tonight, no?’

  She smiled back. ‘I like the rain, Luigi.’

  He glanced to me, held out his hands. ‘And you have a guest tonight.’

  ‘Oh her? No idea who she is… she's been following me for ages, but she looks a little under-nourished so perhaps we'd better feed her.’

  The portly restaurant owned laughed out loud. ‘She is a funny lady, yes?’

  ‘So it would appear. Madeline deWinter; good to meet you, Luigi.’

  ‘Come.’ Luigi clicked his fingers at a tall lanky waiter loitering in the corner. ‘The table you requested is ready for you, Miss Zana.’ He touched his nose twice with his forefinger as he ushered us into the restaurant and announced proudly, ‘The best table in-a the house!’

  ‘Oops,’ I heard Zana mutter quietly to herself.

  I could feel her embarrassment, and smiled to myself as Marco the waiter seated us at a small round table separated from the other diners by half-walls that seemed to be made up entirely of vines and plants.

  Then I gave her the kind of smile that told her she'd been rumbled. ‘Thank you for the dinner invite, Zana.’

  She tried to hold my stare but couldn't, looked down with a rueful smile, and I saw for the first time her immaculate cool had faltered.

  She soon recovered. ‘Don't thank me, Maddie. You're the one picking up the tab.’

  Chapter 7

  I might have been the one paying the bill, but it was Zana who made the decisions. As we looked through the red satin-covered menus, she ordered a bottle of the finest Chianti in the cellar. After the waiter had left to find it, she looked over the top of the menu with a glint in her eye.

  ‘You do drink wine I take it?’

  ‘Sure. I like Italian food too,’ I replied pointedly.

  I couldn't tell if the sarcasm was missed or was simply being ignored; the only part of Zana visible was the top of her head as she studied the menu. I pretended to do likewise, knowing it was pointless. I was right.

  ‘Shall I order for us?’

  ‘Fine by me. Then if I don't like it I can blame you.’

  ‘If you don't like it Madeline, you can blame your unappreciative taste buds, not me.’

  Fortunately the menus were the size of a tabloid newspaper, so she couldn’t see the huge grin on my face. I knew what all this was about; a few minutes ago she'd lost her cool, now she was over-compensating to regain control. Somehow that gave me a good feeling, because now one thing was clear.

  My mark wasn't unbreakable after all.

  Then I had to wipe the grin off. The waiter poured a little wine, collected the menus and took away my cover. I switched on the serious face. It was time to start pumping her.

  ‘By your accent I guess you're not from round here?’

  ‘No.’ She saw the raised eyebrows, let out a slight sigh. ‘I was born in Calandura; you'll not have heard of it. It’s a long way from here. You?’

  ‘East End girl me. Grew up on the streets, the hard way.’

  For a moment she looked sad. ‘You've not gone far from your roots then.’

  ‘About five miles.’

  ‘I envy you.’

  I thought about questioning that, but knew it wouldn’t get me anywhere. Not yet. I changed the subject. ‘What brings you to London?’

  ‘My work.’

  ‘Which is?’ I groaned inwardly; Zana wasn't exactly gushing with information.

  ‘Research.’ One word again.

  ‘Do you specialise?’

  ‘Bio-genetics.’

  ‘That makes you far cleverer than me.’

  She smiled, a little thoughtfully. ‘Oh I don't know, we both deal with the same core subject. Human beings.’

  ‘I just handle people. You… go a bit further than that.’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Marco was back, carrying a huge wooden platter he placed in the centre of the table. Zana smiled, a warm smile that melted away my desire to pump her further. ‘Antipasto,’ she said in a husky, sensual voice. ‘Food to share.’ She leant forward, elbows on the table, her chin resting on cupped hands. I couldn't help myself; drawn into her, I did the same. The table was small, our faces just a foot apart.

  ‘Do you share, Madeline?’ she whispered softly. ‘Do you give… or just take?’

  Chapter 8

  Zana picked a cocktail stick from the holder sitting next to the platter, slowly speared a pitted black olive as she spoke.

  ‘Look closely Madeline… what do you see before you? Do you merely perceive food to take away your hunger, or can you see what lies below its surface?’ She lifted the olive, her eyes transfixed on it as she held it between our faces.

  ‘Just a simple olive, and yet its journey has been long. Once it basked in warm sunshine, the contented fruit of the beautiful tree that gave it life. Then it was ripped away, its heart punched out, forced to travel far from its natural home, and now…’ She pressed the olive against my lips. ‘Now it is here before you, its one purpose in life to give you pleasure.’

  I parted my lips, unable to look away from her gaze as she moved the olive back a little, her eyes glazed over. ‘So will you just consume it, Madeline… or will you taste its richness?’

  I answered, a little hoarsely. ‘I will taste it.’

  I felt the olive in my mouth, closed my lips around it as Zana slowly pulled the cocktail stick away.

  ‘How is the flavour now?’

  ‘Intense,’ I managed to whisper.

  ‘You see,’ she smiled, our eyes locked together. ‘You have listened to its story, understood its journey… and because of that it has rewarded you.’

  She began to lower her hand back to the table; I caught it, held it gently. ‘Is the journey of the olive meaningful for you? Do you have a story to tell, Zana?’

  The words were so quiet they were only just audible. ‘One day, Madeline.’

  Finally her eyes dropped away. I thought I saw a slight shake of her head, but it was so tiny it was hard to be sure. Her hand wavered over the platter of Italian meats, cheeses and vegetables.

  ‘Such temptation
,’ she sighed, a hint of sadness in her tone. ‘Beautiful delicacies, lovingly arranged to tantalise and tease us.’ Her eyes suddenly locked into mine again, the intensity taking me by surprise. ‘I cannot decide… choose for me please.’

  ‘The… the mushrooms. Try a mushroom.’

  She nodded slowly, sliding the cocktail stick into the stem of a small marinated button mushroom. ‘Interesting choice,’ she said thoughtfully as she lifted it off the plate, and turned it in slow deliberate circles.

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  She focused through the mushroom, locking a stare back into me. I began to feel like I was in a trance, couldn't tear my eyes from her even though I wanted to. Her words seemed right inside my head, the busy restaurant fading into an echoic background.

  ‘It's not what it seems, is it Maddie, the humble mushroom? Such perfect form and delicate taste, and yet it is in reality a fungus. And if I do not choose the right species it will poison me.’ She parted her lips as she held the mushroom next to her mouth, her tongue sliding sensuously around its head.

  Somehow I managed a rational thought, although the words came out a little higher pitched than I would have liked. ‘Then you will understand that sometimes a little knowledge can save a lot of pain.’

  I got the feeling she wasn't listening to that pearl of wisdom. Her eyes were closed now as her lips worked the mushroom, and she took over-exaggerated deep breaths, ran her free hand through her hair. She gasped out the words, a little louder than she maybe should have done.

  ‘But Madeline, it tastes so good…’

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of an elderly couple sitting at the only table that had a view of ours. They were shaking their heads in disbelief; or disgust, I wasn't sure which.

  But I couldn't worry about such trivia. I watched, transfixed, my heart pounding as Zana's tongue circled around the button mushroom, her eyes open wide again, boring right into my psyche. When she next spoke it was a whisper, and yet to me it was a shout.

  ‘So tell me Madeline… will this one kill me?’

  I found words to answer her, although it felt like it was someone else speaking. ‘No… no, you are safe with that one.’

  She parted her lips a little more, but not quite wide enough to clear the mushroom. I could feel the sweat beading on my brow, as sensuously her full lips slipped around the mushroom button and closed back around the stem. I watched, every second welding itself into my memory, as she slowly and deliberately chewed and swallowed the mushroom.

  Then she smiled. ‘You see… I trust your judgment. I trust you.’

  I lowered my head, no longer able to look into her eyes, and focused instead on the platter in front of us. I reached towards the food, but Zana's hand stopped mine from going any further. She pressed my fingers to her lips, kissed them so delicately it sent shivers down my spine.

  ‘Be careful what you choose, Madeline.’ A husky whisper made the shivers almost unbearable. ‘Be sure you trust your own judgment.’

  I nodded slowly, couldn't risk speaking right then.

  Our hands parted, and Zana ran a finger tenderly along the shaft of a tube of rolled salami sitting on the side of the platter. ‘Do you like spice? I do. I like it hot.’

  I watched as the tip of her finger ran softly up and down the salami tube, caught my breath as she slid her forefinger inside one of the open ends, curling it slightly so I could see the movement.

  ‘Feel it, Madeline… feel how moist and succulent it is.’

  I did; picked up the tube and held it between our faces for a moment, then slowly inched it towards Zana until one end touched her lips. She watched as it came to her, and then switched her gaze to my face. Her eyes were alive, her breathing rapid. A slight smile curled across her mouth. ‘Are you teasing me, Miss deWinter?’ she breathed sensuously.

  ‘No. This is all yours, Zana. Yours to enjoy.’

  She parted her lips, slid her tongue inside the salami tube but didn't go any further. I could feel slight movement through my fingers as her tongue caressed the inside. Then she was still, her eyes narrowed as she broke contact with the salami.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  The words stabbed into me. But right then I knew I'd never been surer of anything in my whole life. I held her stare. ‘I’m sure.’

  Her mouth opened again, closed around the tip of the salami. I could feel my hand shaking, fighting to keep a reign on senses rapidly spinning out of control. I was going to be in control, for this moment at least.

  ‘Go on Zana, take it. Take it all,’ I managed to whisper.

  Slowly, in one exquisite erotic movement, her tongue worked its way down the shaft of the salami until it reached my fingers. For a moment it wrapped around the tip of my finger and thumb, and then her full lips joined in, their delicate wetness filling my whole body with sensations I'd never experienced before.

  She pulled back, the lips and the tongue were gone, and so was the salami.

  I tried to speak, but a finger was placed across my lips. Zana’s face was flushed, her eyes misted over. When she spoke it was with such intensity it shocked me.

  ‘Do you feel what I feel, Madeline? Are you sharing with me?’

  And then, in a tiny fragment of time, the moment was gone. A voice next to us. Thrust cruelly back to reality, I realised Marco was standing by our side.

  ‘Are you ready for your main courses now?’ he asked, a little uncertainly.

  Chapter 9

  I savoured every mouthful of the smoked salmon tagliatelli Zana had ordered on my behalf. It was the finest meal I had ever tasted, every morsel reverberating around my senses like I was discovering food for the very first time.

  She was relaxed now, the intensity of the antipasto gone. We talked about everything and anything unimportant; the bottle of Chianti had a hole in the bottom so we requested another. That seemed to suffer from the same problem, but as the evening grew late we both decided one bottle of fine wine each was plenty enough when you were planning on walking home.

  Zana ordered coffees, and then stood and held out her hand. ‘Come on, there's a nice terrace here. I could do with some air anyway.’ She let out a giggle, a sound I hadn't heard from her before.

  ‘Fresh air sounds a good idea,’ I said deliberately, allowing myself to be led through the now-empty restaurant and into a little piece of Tuscan heaven.

  We stood on a timber deck, green-painted wrought-iron tables and chairs dotted around the raised space. Above our heads a mass of vines enveloped a timber gazebo, trailing down its support posts to the ground. Low-powered imitation streetlamps gave just enough of a glow to create a seductive ambience.

  A set of steps led to a lawned area bordered by tall shrubs and trees, background lit by pools of coloured light. We were alone; most of the other diners had left a while ago.

  ‘What do you think?’ Zana smiled, took my hand.

  ‘It… it's beautiful,’ I replied, in an awestruck kind of way.

  She turned to face me, a frown creasing her forehead. ‘Why Miss deWinter, I do believe you are going soft on me!’

  I realised that was exactly what I was doing. ‘Must be the wine,’ I said quickly, attempting to defend the sudden weakness.

  ‘I see.’ She walked away, stood with her hands on the balustrade looking out across the lawn. ‘And there was me thinking it might have something to do with the company you were keeping.’ She let out another giggle. ‘Even though she did rather make a fool of herself earlier on!’

  ‘Hey.’ I followed her to the edge of the deck, stood close by her side. ‘You didn't make a fool of yourself, far from it. Although the old couple next to us didn't seem so impressed.’

  She laughed. ‘I did get a bit… full-on.’

  ‘But you taught me something tonight.’

  She turned to me, a wide smile on her face. ‘I did? What?’

  ‘You don't need me to tell you that.’

  She looked back across the lawn, and I felt h
er hand slide across mine on the balustrade. ‘Sharing,’ she whispered.

  I didn't answer, for a minute neither of us spoke. Then suddenly she was facing me, our bodies leaning into each other. ‘Will you share something else with me Madeline, right now?’

  Again I didn't answer. I didn't need to. Our faces were inches apart, Zana’s eyes brighter than ever, her skin seeming to glow. I felt trembling hands slip through my hair, gently caress the sides of my head. Arms I had no control over tightened around her waist, and our lips met.

  As we kissed I could feel her body relax. I pulled her closer, so close it felt we were one. Nothing existed anymore; just her. Our kiss seemed to last a lifetime, and then she pulled away.

  What I saw shocked me. She was breathing heavily, her mouth still open. She looked horrified, scared to death, tears falling down her cheeks. She almost shouted the words.

  ‘I'm lonely Madeline, so fucking lonely. Don't mess with me!’

  Her whole body was shaking, she seemed like a little girl lost. And in that moment I couldn't bear to see her like that. I pulled us back close, held her tight. There was no stopping them, the words just tumbled out.

  ‘I won't mess with you, Zana… and you're not alone anymore.’

  She melted into me, the smile on her lips and the relief in her eyes clear to see. I buried my face in her silky hair, no thoughts now. Just the closeness.

  I could have stayed there all night.

  Time, or anything else, didn't seem to matter anymore.

  I lay wide awake. Sleep wasn't an option, I didn't care. I wanted to be awake. My whole body seemed alive, my senses reeling. The bed felt so good, the brandy I'd swigged an hour ago tasted better than ever.

  Everything felt better than ever.

  I’d walked with Zana back to her apartment, our arms linked firmly the whole journey, and her head resting on my shoulder most of the time. We'd stood outside the entrance to the foyer of the apartment block, kissed again. She looked exhausted; hardly a word had passed between us since we'd left the restaurant. Somehow words weren't needed.