The Sleeping Serpent: A woman's struggle to break an obsessive bond with her yoga master

by Luna Saint Claire

  “Nico, what would you like to do for New Year’s Eve?” Sofia asked. “I could see who’s around, and have a party here,” she offered.

  After not answering right away, he finally said, “Paolo’s throwing a huge party at the club.”

  Though thinking uh, oh, déjà vu all over again, Sofia remained silent. Not impetuous enough to dredge up his insults over the birthday party they didn’t attend on Christmas Eve, she ventured, “Sounds great! I’ll wear the new Dior dress you gave me!” When he didn’t object, she sighed in relief.

  On New Year’s Eve, Sofia took herself to Beverly Hills for a full pampering treatment. Concerned about how Nico might behave that night, she wanted to be relaxed and confident about her appearance. To ensure she would look and feel gorgeous, her first appointment was for a luxurious massage, manicure, and pedicure. Then she had a full leg and Brazilian bikini wax. She topped it off with an appointment to get her hair done at one of L.A.’s best red carpet specialists.

  When she got home, the bike wasn’t there. She called Nico, but got no answer. Rather than allowing her imagination to run wild, she busied herself with confirming their reservations at Piccolino for 9:00 p.m. They’d head over to the Emerson Theater after dinner for the countdown, then dancing until 4:00 a.m. He didn’t return her call until 7:00 p.m., and it was all Sofia could do to not scream at him. “Where have you been?” she asked through clenched teeth.

  “I got hung up,” he replied coolly.

  “With what, Nico?”

  He replied testily, “I told you. I had sessions today.”

  “You never mentioned that to me. I was worried.”

  He insisted, “I told you, Sofia. You just never listen. Just get ready and come to the studio.”

  “Did you pack your clothes for this evening?” she asked, though she knew he hadn’t.

  After hanging up, she took her time fixing her makeup, then putting on a black lace push-up bra and black lace thong panties. Opting for bare legs, she slipped the little black dress on.

  Studying herself in the mirror, she considered shoes. The dress was simple and elegant. Without a doubt, the Manolo Blahnik high-heeled gladiator sandals were perfect, adding just that touch of bondage she was looking for and revealing the beautiful Aruba Blue polish on her toenails. Finally, she put on black sterling silver and diamond hoop earrings, a gift from her father for her twenty-first birthday, and layered one wrist with her two new bracelets, the Ippolita from Nico and the David Yurman leather. The bracelets looked great together, just as she had known they would.

  Grabbing their overnight bags, she carefully made her way down the stairs to her car. The drive to the studio was easy, and listening to “Diamond in My Pocket,” by Better Than Ezra, put her in a good mood, fantasizing it was Nico singing to her on the chorus.

  Impatiently waiting for her, Nico barked, “Do you have my clothes?”

  Offended he hadn’t said anything about how fabulous she looked, Sofia replied dryly, “Bad day, huh?”

  “Why do you say that?” he snorted.

  “Well, I thought you might notice…” She spun around gracefully.

  “Oh, right. You look nice,” he said sarcastically, adding, “Is that what you wanted?”

  Sofia realized she was becoming numb to his stinging barbs. “Nico, this is the Dior dress you gave me for Christmas,” she had purposely not said “bought me.” She thrust his overnight bag at him. “Forget it. Here’s your bag.”

  While he dressed, she waited on the sofa, and when he came out he nonchalantly asked, “How do I look?” as if nothing had been said previously.

  Smiling sweetly, she bit her lip. “Dashing as always, Nico.”

  She handed him the keys so he could drive over to Piccolino on North Robertson, where Sofia was a regular with her work colleagues. Even though he was being difficult, she was proud to walk in with him; she’d never dated anyone as good-looking as Nico.

  After they were seated, Nico abruptly got up without excusing himself and went to talk with people at another table. To camouflage her discomfort, Sofia busied herself with the menu. She knew he had purposely waited for her to sit down so he wouldn’t have to introduce her. What would he say—this is my assistant? But not wanting to ruin the evening, when he returned she didn’t bother to question him.

  He matter-of-factly announced, “That was Alexa Morgan. I had to say hello! But don’t turn around, it will look obvious.”

  Feigning apathy, she coyly remarked, “Oh, I would have liked to meet her. You should have brought me over and introduced me.” When he didn’t respond, she continued, asking offhandedly, “Is she here with her husband?”

  “No,” he stated flatly. “She’s never been married.”

  “Oh really?” Sofia arched her brow, adding with dripping sarcasm, “I wonder why?”

  Nico tried to be funny, “She looks like a man! And she’s crude. I don’t care for her, but she knows everyone and said she’ll get me a movie. I just met her at Erin’s office party, and she’s already flirting with me in front of her friends.”

  Sofia looked up, piercing him with her eyes. “Do you think that’s good for your business, Nico? To flirt with your clients?”

  He flashed her a warning glare, then snapped, “She isn’t a client…yet! Besides, I don’t flirt back.”

  “Ah, Nico, but you do.” As soon as she said it, she was sorry. Not that it wasn’t true, but she really wanted this evening to go well, and she most certainly didn’t want a scene.

  Nico was unforgiving. “You’re an idiot, Sofia. I’m a perfect gentleman at all times. I would never fuck a client.”

  She almost reminded him that she had, in fact, been a client, when the waiter arrived to take their order. Nico ordered one of the Argentine wines his father had supplied to the restaurant upon Sofia’s introduction.

  Alexa stopped by their table as she was leaving. Sofia was sure she’d come by just to check her out, undoubtedly observing that Sofia’s dress was Dior, and her jewelry, though understated, was expensive. When Nico didn’t make an introduction, Sofia extended her hand. “Sofia Lombardi. Pleased to meet you.”

  Alexa was curt, but polite. “Alexa Morgan.”

  Sofia faked a smile while giving her the once over, judging she was overdressed in top to bottom Alexander McQueen, including the knuckle bag. Doing the math quickly in her head, Sofia decided the outfit took her for eight grand. Sofia admired Sarah Burton, the designer for the McQueen label, but this woman couldn’t pull off the look—unless she was trying to look like a matronly Nazi drill sergeant. Even worse, instead of wearing sexy heels, such as the woven leather and chain sandals shown with the outfit in McQueen’s fashion show, she wore practical, low-heeled sling-backs. Geez…if you’re going to do the look, you have to go for it all the way, Sofia thought, rolling her eyes to herself.

  Alexa interrupted Sofia’s thoughts. “I hear you’re a writer for Going My Way.”

  Sofia remained aloof. “Yes, we’re all thrilled. Word has it we’re getting the Writers Guild Award.”

  “Will you stay with the show?”

  Though it seemed like a dumb question, she answered confidently, “Sure, I like it here in L.A.”

  That opened the door for an obvious question. “Where are you from?”

  “New York City, so it’s been quite a transition.”

  Alexa fished, “I imagine so. And how did you meet Nico?”

  Sofia paused, unsure how he would want her to respond. “We were introduced by Luna Saint Claire, the costume designer on the show.” She thought that was safe. It didn’t make her sound like a client, and maybe more of a girlfriend. Finally, Alexa shook her hand again, and Nico stood to give her that kiss kiss cheek cheek thing he did with clients. It was his way of getting them close to his skin, and a tactic that always worked for him. Sofia was glad when she finally left.

  Looking up at Nico from underneath her lush, long lashes, her bright blue eyes accentuated perfectly by smoky kohl eyeliner
, she saw he was staring at her. “Are you pleased with yourself?” he asked accusingly.

  “What do you mean by that?” Sofia countered.

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t, Nico. She was interrogating me. She obviously wanted to know all about me.”

  Nico stabbed and twisted the blade. “She didn’t know you existed, but you certainly let her know.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She knew where I worked already.”

  Nico pondered, “Well, she must have asked someone about you, like the hostess.”

  “Is that a problem?”

  Nico retaliated, “We’ll see how big a problem you just made. I want to get this deal, and I’ll have to undo the damage you cause me.”

  Sofia heard the pounding of the bass thundering from the Emerson Theater as soon as she stepped out of the car. There would be a host of celebrity DJs, and Calvin Harris was supposedly going to perform. Being the hottest club in L.A., the Emerson was the place to be seen. Though clubbing wasn’t something Sofia did much, even in New York, she was excited about tonight because it was New Year’s Eve, and she was with Nico Romero. Walking up to the ropes, they didn’t have to present an invitation; the doorman just opened the door, greeting Nico professionally with, “Good evening, Mr. Romero.”

  Hooking her arm into Nico’s, she glided in alongside him. The music pulsed through her body, causing her lungs to struggle for breath in time with the beat. Nico wove in and out of the throngs of people until he found their table. Sofia had no idea how the bottle service—she guessed it to be as much as $10,000—was being paid for, but trusted Nico had it under control. He greeted his friends, and one gave him a bear hug and said something in Spanish. Staying glued by Nico’s side, Sofia scanned the room for famous faces.

  Designed around a 1920s Prohibition theme, the club personnel were appropriately costumed. A flapper girl arrived to open their bottle of tequila and prepare fancy party drinks called Melon Cartels, tequila with honeydew. Above the floor, Sofia took in the burlesque show of girls in brightly colored fishnet stockings, gem-encrusted brassieres, and feather boas, dancing wildly on elevated platforms. Too loud to converse, Sofia didn’t get properly introduced to any of Nico’s friends or their dates, but they nodded and smiled while sipping their drinks. The girls accompanying Nico’s friends were all tall and skinny, dressed in the look du jour of club clothes: tight miniskirts of patent leather, python, or lace; corset or bustier tops; purposely revealed garter belts and stockings; and stiletto heels. Sofia looked refined by comparison, and knew she’d feel cheap and ridiculous dressing in such a tacky style. She noted how they all looked the same—and like they were trying to hook up. A couple of the girls acknowledged her and said their names, but Sofia couldn’t really hear them.

  When the DJ took over the booth, the group all leaped up to dance, it didn’t matter with whom. Sofia looked around for Nico, but couldn’t find him anywhere and decided to walk around to see if she recognized anyone. Working her way around the room, a couple of times guys grabbed her hand and tried to pull her close, but she always slipped away gracefully. Looking for the restroom, she saw it just said WC on the door, without any indication of male or female. She tried the handle, but it was locked, so she waited a few minutes until a couple tumbled out. Intending just to fix her lips and toss her hair, she figured she’d better pee while she was in there. As she exited, another couple went in. Back at their table, she saw Nico had returned, and he caught her arm roughly, demanding, “Where were you?”

  “The bathroom!”

  He clenched his jaw and stared her down. “Alone? You went alone? Don’t leave this table! If you need the bathroom, I’ll take you.”

  She nodded her understanding with a silent sigh. Nico pushed his glass toward her. “Here, hold this. But don’t drink from it. It’s very strong; they made it especially for me.”

  He promptly strutted away, leaving her standing alone, holding his drink. Sofia sniffed the glass. It smelled normal. Wondering what was so strong about it, she decided to find out and took a small sip, but it tasted normal. She shrugged, then stood there for a long while, scanning the room for Nico, but again not seeing him anywhere. When she finally tired of waiting for him, she took another sip of his drink. She was starting to feel really good.

  A few minutes later, the music sounded irresistible to her, and she moved with the song in what must have been a very suggestive way, because one of Nico’s friends came up behind her and put his arm around her waist, pressing her butt against his pelvis as they moved their hips to the beat. All of a sudden the music pounded and everyone yelled…10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. At “one,” the music blared, and the crowd jumped up and down with the cacophonous techno beat. Sofia downed Nico’s drink and bounced up and down, too, then danced with abandon. When Nico finally returned, he snatched her away from his friend, shaking his head angrily. Seizing her by the hair, he questioned, “Where’s my drink?”

  Sofia shrugged her shoulders. “You disappeared. I drank it.”

  Nico hissed, “I told you it was too strong!”

  Sofia bounced up and down. “I feel great. What was in it?”

  “It was made special for me.”

  Though he was pissed, she didn’t notice. “Oh. Well, I liked it. I like dancing—dance with me, Nico,” she slurred a bit. Draping herself around him, she kissed his neck, working her way to his lips, and rubbed her body against his pelvis, grinding with the beat of the music. Then she felt his cock with her hand.

  “Shit, Sofia. Stop. You’re making me hard,” he growled.

  She purred, “That’s the idea. I feel very good…and you’re making me very wet.”

  Suddenly, Nico took her by the hand and guided her through the crowd with his hand on her back to steady her. He opened the door to the water closet then locked it from the inside. Whipping out his already engorged erection, he stroked himself to make it fully hard, then turned her around so that she faced the mirror. “Bend over,” he commanded, lifting up her short dress and pulling her black lace thong down. Kicking her feet wider apart, he ran his hands over the cheeks of her round butt, sliding his fingers over her anus, then down into her wet pussy.

  “Hold onto the sink,” he directed, so she wouldn’t slip down to the floor in her current state. Spreading her cheeks open, he admired how her pink, wet pussy glistened. Sofia panted as he placed the head of his cock just at the opening of her swollen pussy, rubbing it around the entrance to cover himself with her juices before shoving it in. She gasped with the suddenness of his entry, then let out a sigh, adoring the feeling of his deep penetration. Looking in the mirror, she watched his face while he fucked her, his brow slightly furrowed and his eyes half-mast. Not caring that she’d have bruises in the morning, he dug his fingers hard into her hips while he pumped her slick, velvety pussy, lunging harder and deeper in time with the music.

  Sliding his cock out, he admired how it looked covered in her wetness, and took a moment to stroke himself indulgently before plunging back into her. Pulling out his cock again, he slipped his fingers inside to massage her G-spot until she moaned and called his name, begging for him. Slowly, he inserted himself back between her plump folds and gently placed his wet fingers into her ass. Her legs stiffened in anticipation of a massive orgasm, and he could feel her clenching his cock; she was even tighter with his fingers inside her ass. Closing his eyes, he readied for his own release, pounding her harder and deeper, hitting the back of her cervix while his fingers fucked her anus, heightening both their pleasure. Frantic with desire, Sofia reached between her legs to rub her swollen clit.

  Convulsing around him, her juices gushed as she went over the edge. She knew from his breathing and low growl that he would come any second, so squeezed him hard, causing a new orgasm to pulse down the walls of her vagina outward, rolling over and over again. Balls deep, he thrust his hips into her and swore out loud as he came, the hot jets of cum squirting repeatedly inside her. Feeling the
actual heat of his cum, Sofia realized she felt everything deeper, bigger, and louder than ever before.

  When he pulled his fingers slowly out of her anus, then eased his cock out of her pussy, letting their mingled juices drip to the floor, Sofia collapsed over the sink, spent and dizzy. Her own orgasm had been so intense that she was unsteady on her legs. She nearly fell to the floor, but Nico caught her and sat her on the toilet while he wiped himself clean and put it back in his jeans. Helping her to her feet, he prodded, “Come on. We’d better get out of here.” Seeing she was in no shape to take care of herself, he pulled up her thong and fixed her dress.

  Suddenly feeling very thirsty, and her lips dry, she reapplied her red lipstick as best she could and quickly finger combed her hair. Still wobbly, she held tightly to Nico’s arm as they made their way to the exit. The fresh air felt glorious to her, and she leaned on his shoulder while the valet brought their car to the front.

  Nico drove all the way to Malibu even though they had planned to stay at the studio, saying he wanted to wake up to the Christmas tree. After the wild ride home from Agoura Hills, Sofia was leery about driving with him, but really couldn’t work up enough concern to say anything. Wondering again about what was in that drink at the club, Sofia mused about the scent-laden night air she hadn’t noticed before. She had never had an orgasm that strong; it was mind blowing. When they got to the house, she gulped several glasses of water as she undressed, yet still felt parched. Nico sat on the sofa with the guitar he kept at her house and began singing a romantic love song in Spanish. She nestled up next him, closed her eyes, and fell into a mesmerized trance at the sound of his voice.