The Legend of Arturo King

by L. B. Dunbar

  “I’m going home,” Mure said and walked in the direction he held his gaze.

  “Hi, Guinevere,” Perk croaked, tried to clear his throat and start again. It still came out as a squeak.

  Arturo walked along the pool’s edge, keeping his gaze fixed on me. He stopped to kick off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head one-handed. I had the sense that Perk walked away, but I kept my eyes on Arturo. His exposed chest and tattooed arms took my breath away. He moved his hands to unbutton his jeans and pushed them off. He stood for a slight moment in black boxer briefs then took one step over the pool edge and melted into the water. The water wasn’t deep enough so he stopped short with only his lower half underwater. His gaze still did not leave mine.

  “You are so beautiful,” he breathed.

  I felt the heat of the blush creep up my face and I bit my bottom lip to contain my smile. He cupped my face and feasted on my lips. I shouldn’t have felt taken by surprise. I saw him coming, and I anticipated the kiss, but I was unprepared for how quickly he swooped down onto me and consumed my lips. This was not the innocent kiss of this morning. This was hunger. This was thirst. This was survival.

  He kissed me without a care. He nibbled on my bottom lip, causing me to moan in his mouth, and his tongue slammed into mine. We danced together inside my mouth before he sucked on my tongue and returned to a tortuous assault of my lips. I was breathless and clung to him as he continued to hold my face in his hands. I was being consumed by him, melting. The pulse came quickly between my legs and I pulled my knees upward to clench the feeling between my thighs. I attempted to sigh his name, but he wouldn’t release my lips.

  He seemed to know what I wanted. He had to know what I needed, but he kept his hands steady on my face. I realized that he might be doing this in an effort to not touch me without my permission.

  “Arturo. I…” I sighed against his lips. My breath escaped me heavily as he resumed his attempts to feast on me. He eventually pulled back slowly, stopping with one final peck.

  “I can’t touch you with the guys close enough to watch. They could hardly handle looking at you. I would never allow them to see you like I saw you the other day.”

  I looked at him, puzzled.

  “When you came on the boat. It was the most gorgeous sight.”

  The thought alone spurred him on to another delicious assault of my lips. For moments he continued in his hungry quest to mark each part of my lips before slowing again and pressing a final kiss to my nose.

  I was dizzy with desire and breathless from the kisses, and I was sure my lips were bruised from his possessiveness, yet I relished that possession.

  “Did you eat lunch yet?”

  “I waited for you,” I said breathlessly.

  “I’ll be right back.” He pushed himself up out of the pool with his tattooed arms and unashamedly walked toward the house, carrying his jeans and shirt in his hand. This time he didn’t have his gaze locked on me, but I couldn’t look away from him.

  Arturo

  I would have preferred a quiet night in alone with Guinevere after the amazing afternoon we had, but it seemed the band had other ideas. I asked Guinie to meet me outside in the patio seating area designed like an outdoor living room. There was a canopy over the seasonal furniture consisting of a couch, love seat, and two oversized chairs. The space had an open air feeling with a cutout in the ceiling to allow for the fire pit that crackled and hissed while I waited for her. I had my guitar with me again, strumming it softly, as I struggled to collect the song lyrics playing out in my head.

  I felt almost giddy with the excitement of laying down tracks on two new songs and working on a third, not to mention the overwhelming feeling of wanting to be close to Guinie, to touch her, kiss her, possess her. I hadn’t been able to keep my hands off of her throughout the afternoon, even if the contact was only our fingers loosely intertwined. I stroked her hair, or cupped her neck, or kissed her shoulder, but most memorable to me was pinning her up against the pool wall.

  We were playful in the water, similar to the other day in the lake, and Guinevere had tried to drown me again, to no avail. I had her up against the mosaic tile of the pool with her hands behind her back before she could submerge me, and I used the rest of my body to hold her in place.

  It was at this time that she appeared to be checking out my tattoos. I’d caught her doing it before and she licked her lips as the water cascaded down my body. I felt myself spring to life. Not that I hadn’t been hard and ready for her, but this firmed me further.

  “Well?” I started.

  “Well, what?”

  “You want to ask, right?”

  “Ask what?” she said playfully, her eyes never leaving my arms.

  “You want to know what they stand for, right?”

  “Maybe.”

  “What do you mean ‘maybe’?”

  “Well, I figure every girl wants to know what they mean, and then you tell them some exaggerated story, and they swoon over the explanation.”

  “And you won’t swoon, is that it?”

  She smiled and bit her lip. That was my answer. I leaned in and softly nibbled on her lips again. I couldn’t seem to get enough of tasting that mouth.

  “Better yet. Let me guess what they mean?” she sighed as she opened her eyes slowly once I released her.

  “Guess? Okay.”

  She looked to my right arm, the one with the sword outlined in black with shades of gray. The hilt started at my shoulder and slid straight to the back of my hand. The point was even with my middle finger knuckle, and the intricate scroll of the scabbard crossed my bicep.

  She traced a shaky finger over the artwork.

  “A fight.” She looked at me and my eyes opened wide. “You wanted to show you’re strong.”

  She paused.

  “But it isn’t fighting.” She paused as she traced the outline. “That’s not your strength. It’s music and you make it with your hand … well, really your voice. But the guitar is your sword?”

  I shook my head.

  “Impressive. Did you read that somewhere?”

  She laughed and looked at my other arm. A bright-red lion-like creature covered most of this arm. The head surrounded my bicep while the body stood on two strong legs over my forearm. The clawed foot of the lion stood on my wrist. Guinie smoothed her hand down this arm and tried to circle my wrist with her small, delicate fingers.

  “Lion, not a dragon?”

  “The lion is the symbol for my family’s crest. Although I do not consider myself an Uther, I cannot deny my bloodline. It’s a powerful family.”

  She looked deeply into my eyes then down at my chest.

  “Nothing on your chest? No symbol for Ingrid or Morte?”

  I sighed and I felt like Guinevere wanted to say something about Morte or ask a question, but she let it go. She leaned in to kiss the back of my hand at the point of the sword, and I set off on another soft attack of her shoulder and neck.

  Now I continued to strum my guitar as I waited in the fresh evening air, recalling these memories. It was so peaceful at night, which was another reason I loved our band name. Nights. The night was always mysterious and unknown yet peaceful and quiet to me. It was a mystery under dark cover, and I liked it here by the lake on starry evenings like this one.

  Then Tristan showed up with some redhead under his arm and Lans stumbled behind with Elaine.

  “Arturo,” Tristan almost shouted, breaking the calm of the night, “how’s it hanging? Where’s that gorgeous woman of yours?” He laughed.

  As if on cue, Guinevere appeared, a vision in a light-yellow dress that was strapless and hung to her feet. Her hair was down with a gold headpiece around her forehead and she was barefoot, pink toe nails exposed. Her skin was sun-kissed from the lazy days in the warm air and she looked again like a mythical creature to me. She gracefully coasted over to the small gathering.

  “Good God, girl, could you be any more beautiful?” Tristan barked w
hile the redhead angrily squinted her eyes at him.

  “Thank you, Tristan. You don’t look too bad yourself,” she boldly replied, but with the air of a princess. I was slightly put off by the interchange. I wanted to be the one to compliment her and I wanted her to compliment me.

  I motioned my head for her to sit next to me while I balanced my guitar on my lap. Her lake-blue eyes were fixed on mine as she walked toward me and smiled shyly as if we had not been flirting all day with one another.

  Lans and Elaine sat comfortably close on the love seat opposite us, and I noticed how happy Elaine looked being under Lans’ arm. He wasn’t actually touching her, but his arm was behind her on the back of the love seat and she glowed like she could stay in that space for a lifetime. Lans didn’t seem to be reciprocating the sentiment, but he was attentive to Elaine, asking if she was warm enough and then placing his hand on her upper arm to rub it briefly before returning it to its original position.

  Tristan was on one of the large chairs with the redhead giggling on his lap. She was draped over him more than sitting on him and it looked uncomfortable to me. The girl didn’t seem to care. She would be the flavor of the night for Tristan, and all was good for him.

  I felt the weight of Guinevere’s fascination with my hands on the guitar. She appeared to be concentrating on my fingers as they stroked the instrument. When I gently tapped the wood for emphasis, she jumped, then smiled like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Despite the darkness, I could see the blush on her skin in the glow of the firelight and I would have given anything to know what she had been thinking.

  “Hand me your instrument,” Lans spoke, wiggling his fingers for the guitar.

  “Only Guinie gets to handle his instrument,” Tristan said as the redhead kissed down his neck. “Isn’t that right, girl?”

  “Fuck off. Don’t be rude,” I laughed. “Lans, get your own instrument.” I saw the look on Elaine’s face as her eyes quickly looked down at Lans’ lap then back up to me, and I had to laugh harder despite the confused look on Lans’ face.

  He went to the barn, returned with his own guitar, and we started to play softly, taking cues from one another. Tristan reached around his girl for the night and tugged gently at my Gibson.

  “We’ll play. You sing,” he said as he strummed along with Lans, not missing a beat.

  What would I be without you

  Teaching me how to live again

  What would I feel without you

  Making me burn inside again

  The house is built up

  The walls are strong

  But a knock on my heart from you

  And it could all fall

  Keep clear of the window

  Stay with me on the bed

  Let me hold you longer

  Or it could all fall

  I sung the refrain again and I watched the dark shadows of the forest. I felt Guinevere’s presence, but I didn’t dare to look at her. It would have been too intimate, too soon, to let her know that this song, like the other two recorded earlier in the day, were for her. She had become my muse. My inspirational fairy. My mystic siren.

  As the song came to its mellow end, I heard her sigh.

  “That was so beautiful,” she whispered. She was sitting next to me, but we weren’t exactly touching. I could feel the heat of her warm skin, and the flames of the fire were making me hot. I sat back and placed my hand on Guinie’s lower back as she sat forward on the edge of the seat cushion, and I started to make a small pattern across the silky fabric of her dress.

  “Sing something else,” she asked.

  I broke into song, but Tristan quickly joined. We were playing some of our own, but a few requests came from the girls and before I knew it we were singing cover songs. Some were our favorites. Some were just oldies. Either way it was an impromptu concert in my backyard, minus Perk.

  “Where’s Perk?” I blurted in the middle of a chorus, disrupting the flow of the jam.

  “Who knows?” Tristan sighed as he ran a hand through his hair, balancing the guitar on his knees.

  “Probably scouring the woods for that girl still,” Lans sighed.

  “What girl?” Elaine asked.

  “Nothing,” I said, but Lans continued.

  “Some girl he met … no, saw … when we were still kids near the lake. He always looks for her when we return here even though he has no idea who she was or where she might live or if she is even from here. It’s like he expects her to magically appear after she magically disappeared.”

  “That’s sweet,” Elaine said, pouting her lips at Lans’ casual disregard for Perk’s angst.

  “When did he see her?” Elaine asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe ten years ago. At fifteen years old or so.” Lans shrugged, and Elaine sat up a little straighter.

  “What did she look like?” she asked quietly. Lans looked over his shoulder at her before continuing again.

  “Dark hair, long, wavy. He said she looked like a dark angel. He’s such a romantic,” Lans coughed and began to fiddle with the strings again. Elaine looked both hurt and puzzled, and about to ask another question, but I didn’t want to keep discussing Perk’s secret obsession without him present.

  “Hey, Guinevere, you should play with us,” I said in an obvious effort to change the subject.

  “Oh my God, no,” she laughed.

  “Why not? We heard you the other night and you were great,” I rambled before realizing I might have to explain how I heard her the other night.

  “How did you hear me?” she immediately asked and I looked to Lans for support. He raised an eyebrow at me, daring me to tell the story.

  “I … Lans and I were in the hall outside your room the other night.”

  “Were … were you spying on me?” She eyed me.

  “No. No, absolutely not. It’s just that we heard the sound and followed the trail to your door.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me to stop if I was disturbing you?”

  My fingers were rubbing frantically up and down her lower back, and I could feel her go rigid under my touch. I sat forward again and angled my body toward hers, using my hand to cup her chin.

  “You weren’t disturbing us,” I said softly, directly into her face, inches from her lips. “The sound was beautiful and the fact that you were playing my song … it was an honor. You made it sound gorgeous.” I held her gaze and then I couldn’t hold back, I had to kiss her despite the small audience. It was brief and chaste, and when I pulled away from her she leaned forward to follow me. I liked how she did that as if she wanted it to last longer or she wanted more, but I wasn’t about to put on a show in front of my friends.

  They, on the other hand, had different plans. Lans was kissing Elaine so hard it looked like he might hurt her while Tristan’s girl was continuing to nibble his neck and he had his eyes closed in nonchalance. I could have returned to Guinevere and it would have been like we were teenagers again. Each with a girl. Each making out under the sky. Each without a care in the world.

  But I did care. I cared for Guinevere greatly and I would not have dishonored her by such an immature sexual display in front of the others.

  “Okay, guys, out,” I laughed as I clapped my hands once.

  “But I’m enjoying the night,” Tristan whined.

  “Enjoy it someplace else,” and then I added, “I want to enjoy the night as well.” It came out with a growl at my friend while I raised an eyebrow in a hint.

  “Got it. Come on, Lans, get off the babysitter,” Tristan laughed.

  Lans pulled away from Elaine without a care and she stumbled back against the cushions with the force of his removal of his lips from hers. She looked stunned, like she had been tasered. I had to bite my lips to prevent laughing. At least Lans turned to help Elaine stand by holding out a hand to her, but he dropped her hand immediately as the foursome crossed the grounds, walked around the pool, and disappeared into the barn.

  I turned to loo
k at Guinevere, who was looking at me, and she smiled sweetly. There was that blush again.

  Guinevere

  I wasn’t really used to open displays of affection, and certainly not the public displays of affection produced by the redhead on Tristan’s lap or the mouth-swallowing kiss of Lans with Elaine. I tried to ignore Lans by keeping my focus intently on Arturo. When he kissed me before his friends, it was so sweet and brief, and I almost embarrassed myself by continuing to kiss him, but I wasn’t sure he wanted to be so public with me. After all, he did pull back quickly.

  As the foursome left, the quiet of the night enveloped us in a cocoon. Our surroundings were so dark, with only the glow and warmth of the fire in the circular pit at our feet. The sky was cloudless and the stars shone in abundance. I recognized a few constellations, but I wasn’t familiar with many. Being raised in the city, it was hard to see stars at night, and I could only recall a few from the astronomy course I took as a seminar in college.

  “Why didn’t you go to Juilliard?” Arturo interrupted my connecting the dots in the sky.

  “I don’t know. I could have, I suppose, but the MMC was alternative and different, and my father wanted me to get a more well-rounded education. He liked that they offered courses in something other than just music or music-related fields, but still had some tie-in to music.” I shrugged to brush off my answer. I had wanted Juilliard, but I never thought I would be good enough and I hadn’t bothered to apply when my father began to talk about the Metropolitan Music College. It seemed trendy versus traditional.

  “You really are very good,” he said softly as he kissed my bare shoulder, sending a shiver over my warm skin.

  “Not good enough, though,” I whispered, but loud enough that he heard me.

  “You don’t really want to play for a stuffy orchestra, Guinie.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “If you went to a trendy music school, and you can play rock ballads on a cello, you aren’t as uptight as you might come across. As a matter of fact, I think there’s a lioness inside just waiting to spring out of you.” His voice was confident, as if he knew me so well.