by A. C. Meyer
“But I—”
“Mari.”
“I’ve seen the girls you date. I’m not a model.”
“If I wanted a model, I’d be with one. You’re the one that I want, Mariana. I want all of you,” he says, then pulls me into a breathtaking kiss. It may be the most intense one yet, or, better yet, the most intense kiss of my life. His tongue invades my mouth, taking over, leading the kiss to the edge. Taking me to the edge. I’m about to moan from all the feelings that kiss is causing me to feel, when he suddenly pulls away, his breathing uneven.
“I’ll take a shower now before it’s too late. I suggest you get dressed before I leave the bathroom or I’ll be forced to make a change of plans,” he says and slowly walks away, taking off his shirt while he goes to the bathroom. I stand still, leaning against the closet, breathless with my legs shaking. Then he stops at the door, turns to me and says, “Mari, I don’t usually take long showers.” His seductive smile widens while he unbuttons his jeans. I turn around quickly, open the closet and hurry to get myself some clothes, and he lets out an amused laugh while he closes the door.
I take a cold shower, trying to cool off the fire that burns within me. I have never experienced something so intense with a woman. When I am with her, I feel like you do when you’re reading a good book: you want to get to the end of the story to know what will happen, but at the same time, you try to take things slow, to savor every feeling so that you can make the moment last longer. All I want is to throw her on my bed and make love to her until we are both so lost to the sensations that we don’t remember our own names. But the feelings she provoked in me, the expectation, that shiver down my spine, that constant excitement, they all were keeping me strong enough to keep control and seduce her slowly, making her as crazy about me as I feel about her.
I finish my shower and go back to the bedroom, not sure if I’m glad or sad that she’s not there. I dress in a pair of dark jeans and a black shirt, then walk around the house barefoot to look for her. I hate having to wear shoes, and even though the house is freezing, since the weather was always chillier at night at this time of the year, I still like feeling the ground beneath my feet. I look for Mari everywhere but I don’t find her. I go downstairs and I hear a song from afar, indicating where she might have gone. As I get near the game room, the music is all over me and my body is in alert mode.
I approach the door, the song getting louder now. As I reach it, I find her, looking beautiful in a blue dress, which swings as she moves around the room, dancing.
She moves her body to the music, eyes closed as she sings, seeming to be completely lost in the song. It was one of the things that enchanted me the most about Mari. She’s so simple, but at the same time, so intense that she can get lost in the music to such an extent that nothing else matters. She’s definitely one of the most charming women I’ve met in my life.
I take a few steps into the room. She’s still totally unaware that I’m there, she’s so connected to the music. When she turns around again, eyes closed, I manage to hold her hand and pull her to me, placing an arm around her waist so that we can dance together.
I feel her body quiver in surprise. She opens her eyes and her face, flushed by all the dancing, gets even brighter when she realizes she’s been caught. I crack a smile and everything around us disappears. She has that effect on me. She makes me give her my undivided attention. All she has to do is be there. Mari smiles back, still looking confused in a mix of embarrassment and fright. The song goes on and we dance together, our bodies close, a little slower than the song would ask for.
My smile widens and I say by her ear, “I can’t wait to have you.”
“Oh, gosh!” she says and I laugh, amused.
“Later, pretty. I have a surprise for you. Are you ready?” I ask, and she nods in agreement. “Then, come.” I keep her hand in mine and take her out of the game room and up the stairs.
“Where are we going?” she asks curiously. “Up there?”
“Not exactly.”
“What are we going to do up there?” she asks as we slowly climb the first set of stairs.
“Don’t you know curiosity killed the cat? You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Damn it,” she curses under her breath, making me laugh. “You’re barefoot.” she points at my feet.
“I know. I don’t like wearing shoes,” I say laughing, then go ahead to the terrace.
I had asked Mrs. Lúcia, the housekeeper, to order us dinner. She and her husband Mário have been looking after the house since my grandparents were alive. She is almost like a grandmother to me and when I said I would be bringing Mari over, she asked all sorts of questions about her, about me, and about us. I trust her completely and I know she will prepare something amazing, since she realizes how important this woman is to me.
We reach the third floor, where the pool is, and I mentally register that I should do something to thank Mrs. Lúcia during the week. The leisure space has become a romantic setting, perfect for the night I had in mind. The pool is full of lit candles floating in the water, making the atmosphere cozier. Since it is cold, the glass doors are closed, but we can still see the starry sky. In the right corner, where there usually are some lounges, there is now a dinner table set for two, with the dishes already set, beside candles and a beautiful bouquet of pale pink peonies, identical to the one I had gifted Mari. It was my way of showing Mari that she’s as beautiful, unique, and special to me as that flower is in nature.
“Wow . . .” Mari whispers. I look at her and she looks both delighted and surprised. I smile and pull her hard into a loving kiss. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this happy with anyone but her. “It’s beautiful, Cadu.” She turns to me, a smile on her face and her eyes shining brightly. In an instant, any resistance I might still have about her is gone, and it’s just us, her intense eyes on me, the taste of her kiss, and me wanting to be beside her all the time.
A sudden move catches my attention, I look away from her for a second and look at the table. Beside it, a waiter waits for us with a smile.
“Good evening, Mr. Carlos Eduardo,” he greets me and I smile, nodding. Then he turns to Mari. “Ms. Mariana, good evening.” She smiles and greets him back. “I’m Marcelo and I’ll be serving you this evening.” I lead Mari to the table and Marcelo pulls out the chair so she can sit. I turn around and sit in front of her. “Would you like something to drink?”
“I asked Mrs. Lúcia to put the champagne on the ice. Would you mind bringing it to us, Marcelo?”
“Of course, sir. I’ll be right back.” He exits toward the stairs and I look back at Mari.
“Do you want some music?” She nods and I go to the stereo on the other side of the terrace. I feel my hands shaking as I look for the playlist. I don’t think I was this nervous on my first date when I was a teenager. I hit play and Bebel Gilberto’s sensual voice comes out of the speakers around the terrace.
When I get back to the table, Marcelo is already pouring the champagne. He steps back to place the bottle in the bucket of ice, then excuses himself to finish preparing the food. When we’re alone again, I raise my glass in a toast and Mari follows my lead.
“To you,” I toast.
Her smile widens and then she answers, “To us. Thank you for this wonderful weekend.” I smile back and we drink the cold champagne. That’s when Marcelo returns with the food. Tonight’s menu has meat fondue with several sauces and roasted potatoes. To go with it, he serves red wine. Mari looks intrigued at the scarlet liquid in her glass.
“What is it, pretty?”
“I’m not used to drinking. I’m thinking that, judging by the way we started, I’ll be climbing the table and making a fool of myself by the end of dinner.” We both laugh at her remark while the waiter disappears, leaving us alone.
During dinner, I ask her about the things she likes and she tells me a bit more about her
life, her family, and friends. She tells me about her friendship with Lais and how she feels living by herself. Mari slowly proves that my first impression of her was right: she’s a humble but dedicated young woman, who values family and good friendships. She’s fun and she manages to make me get lost in her and laugh at the way she tells the stories about her childhood. By dessert, I can’t help but think how it has been possible for a woman like her to be single. While she’s savoring her brownie and ice cream, I can’t help but ask, “Mari, why weren’t you dating?” A shadow crosses her eyes and she takes a sip of water before she answers.
“I think it’s just that nobody really worth my time showed up, besides the fact that I didn’t want to get hurt, to suffer. It’s been two years since my last relationship. It was quite . . . hard,” she finishes. I can’t help my curiosity in wanting to know what happened to make her so afraid.
“What happened?”
“With my ex?” she asks, looking a bit pale.
“Yeah.”
She takes a deep breath and lowers her eyes, seeming to be pulled back into the past. A painful one.
“I haven’t seen him since we broke up, thank goodness. It was really hard . . .”
I’m even more curious now about this past relationship of hers.
“Did he do something to you? Hurt you in any way?”
“It was a sick relationship, Cadu. He was jealous and he liked to belittle me. He didn’t abuse me physically, if that’s what you’re asking. But when it was over, I was really fragile and insecure. He would complain every day about everything.”
“How so?”
“Wearing a dress would make us fight. Or talking to a colleague on the street. Talking to Lais. Anything that wasn’t about him would cause a fight. If I went shopping for clothes, he would somehow imply that those were inappropriate for me. That I was inappropriate.” She sighs and I feel like murdering that asshole. “It was just small criticism at first, very subtle, sometimes jokes, but they slowly destroyed my confidence.”
I faced her in pure shock as she went on.
“In time, the way his criticism hit me changed. He would gladly point out my faults, my mistakes, my flaws. Until I couldn’t do anything by myself because I was too afraid I’d screw up. I felt like I was incapable of doing anything for myself and I felt guilty because he was unhappy. He was getting more and more jealous and I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed everyone away. Until one day he made a scene in the middle of the street because we ran into a cousin of mine he hadn’t met before. We argued, had a fight, and then I thought we would make up. When I got home I got a notification that he changed his relationship status to ‘single’ on Facebook. It shocked the hell out of me. I think it was the kind of wake-up call I needed to break things off for good. I took out my phone and messaged him I was just making the break-up he so graciously told everyone about online finally official, and promptly changed my status too. He said he regretted it, but I had already decided not to forgive him. I was tired of the roller-coaster.”
I hold her hand, caressing her palm, trying to comfort her and calm myself at the same time. I knew how much that type of verbal abuse could mark a person’s life forever. Mental abuse is as dangerous or even more dangerous than physical assault. It could destroy a person’s confidence.
“Did he ever call you again?” I ask, feeling useless.
“Two or three times, but I never answered. I wanted to move on.”
“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Mari. I’d do anything to save you from that type of hurting.”
“I’m fine now. We’re here, together, having a romantic dinner,” she says, smiling at me.
“You’re really a special woman, you know?” I ask, proud of her strength despite her bad experience. Her smile widens and I get up. I grab her hand and help her to her feet. On the stereo, some romantic song is playing and I pull her to dance with me.
She sighs in my arms, hands on my back as we dance together, holding each other. I silently promise myself I’ll take care of her and make her happy. The playlist goes on and we dance together for what could be a minute or could be an hour. Time feels irrelevant. When I look around, I see the table has disappeared and that we are alone on the terrace. She raises her head to face me, her eyes looking for mine. Nothing else matters right now, nothing but the two of us. Inside of me, the only thing I know is that I don’t ever want this moment to end. Ever.
She brings out the best in me. I’m sure I’ve never felt happier. Or more cared for. Or more loved.
I kiss her lips softly, twisting her hair in my hands. I pull away slowly and lean my forehead on hers, still holding her and swaying to the rhythm of the song. I feel her sweet perfume all over me and all I can wish for right now is to have her completely. I breathe in deep, kissing her delicate lips once more. I let go of her hair, then take a step away from that soft body. She opens up her bright eyes and I smile, reaching out for her hand.
“Come, love.”
Mari
I’m as nervous as the day I lost my virginity to my first boyfriend, maybe even more so. Back then, I think I felt nervous about what was going to happening, about doing something new. Now, here with Cadu, I’m nervous over a number of things: would I live up to his expectations? Would he like my body? What if, what if, what if?
Since the moment he first kissed me against the closet door, I’ve been feeling anxious. As soon as he was in the shower, I quickly put on some clothes and went downstairs. I still wasn’t ready and I knew he wasn’t either, or at least that he didn’t want to change his plans. I went to the game room and decided to put on some music. I couldn’t resist the feeling and I allowed myself to dance and try to calm down. I just didn’t expect to be caught in the act by a sexy barefoot man.
From that moment on, the whole night was a blur. If you ask me what we talked about, what we ate or what we drank, I wouldn’t know how to answer. What I can tell you is that he looks amazing in a black shirt; that his woodsy scented cologne is sexy, a mix of cinnamon, sandalwood, vanilla, and lavender, something that seems unlikely at first, but that eventually brings out the man in him and makes me want to smell his whole body; that those jeans make him even hotter and that never, in the history of the world, I could ever believe I would have a thing for a barefoot man.
Somehow, he got me to tell him my painful story. I’d never really talked about it, but with him it was easy. The words just flowed out and then we were dancing, holding each other, and it just felt right. Well, to me, it wasn’t only right it was perfect. Our bodies touching and swaying to the rhythm of a romantic song under a starry sky wasn’t just right; it was perfect.
Then slowly, that romantic atmosphere became a sensual energy. The electricity between us was so strong you could almost touch it. He held my hair up on the back of my head in a strong grip and kissed me, his strong hold on me in contrast to our smooth kiss. I felt a shiver that went from the base of my spine up to my neck. Then he pulled away and reached out his hand, in a sensual and yet loving invitation, a smile on his face.
“Come, love.”
And I do, fearlessly, not giving it a second thought, even though I know what is coming. He intertwines his fingers in mine, my hand shaking with anxiety touching his strong one, as he guides us down the stairs and into the bedroom that would be ours tonight. When we reach the last step, he lifts me in his arms as if I weigh no more than a feather. I face him and his eyes reflect mine, filled with desire, hunger, passion. And if he feels the same way, love. This is much more than a night of lust, desire, or pleasure. To me, it is about love. About sealing a love that has taken over every inch of my body. Even if the rational part of me was screaming that I could be getting myself into trouble, big trouble, my emotions push all rational thought to the side and tell them to shut up, taking over every and any free space I had in me. Yeah, I am in love. I don’t only like him, nor do I o
nly feel attracted to him. I am hopelessly in love with that man.
He steps into the bedroom, his eyes locked on mine. Slowly, he places me right in the middle of the bed over a pile of soft pillows. Then he just stays there, hovering over me, kneeling on the bed and looking at me as if I was the masterpiece and he was the artist.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmurs, and for the first time, I believe him. I really feel beautiful, desirable, and even sexy right now. He comes closer, his body on mine, until he reaches my lips, first kissing me slowly, savoring me, exploring my mouth, taking his time. When his hands touch the sides of my body, it’s as if an electric charge has hit us both. The kiss grows more intense, like he can’t get enough of me. He runs his hands over my body, leaving goose bumps everywhere. I feel his excitement growing more and more evident under his jeans and I can’t help but moan.
He pulls away, just enough so he can pull off the black shirt that fits perfectly to his well-built body. Cadu throws it on the floor and when he looks at me again and realizes I’m studying the lines of his muscles, he turns on that seductive smile, crowned by those breathtaking dimples.
Still wearing that smile, he focuses his attention on my blue dress. He undoes the tie around my waist and slowly begins to unzip the dress. He unzips it completely, but doesn’t take it off. He checks me out from head to toe and I can’t help but feel a bit embarrassed. I feel my face getting hotter and I close my eyes, fighting that feeling of shame and the impulse of covering myself away from his gaze.
“Mari?” he calls, and I open my eyes again. “Open your eyes. I want to see you, all of you.”
