I saw her
enter the room and heard a distinct treble to the pounding of my heart, which
was usually a constant even droning, low and barely noticeable. Her presence
harmonized with every cell in my body and, I swear, I could hear it become
musically full.
She turned to face me, as if she was reading my mind and could hear the same
song – recognizable, yet elusive to memory. I could not put my finger on it –
what was the name of this tune? Where had I heard it before?
I looked up
and saw a small wrinkle between her eyes as if she were trying to read my mind
or, perhaps, was reading it. Maybe, she too was wondering the same thing,
asking the same questions. Maybe, she was as captivated as I.
I searched for a companion, there was no one. I watched to see who she was
walking toward and, there was no one. I saw her stop in the middle of the room,
the host seemed confused and they exchanged whispered words, then – as if he
had been mistaken – he escorted her directly to my table. I rose and placed my
napkin on the table, reached out and pulled a chair away from the table and,
without a word, she sat. The host eased her in and I sat back down, taking the
still unused napkin from the table and placed it back into my lap. She followed
my lead.
“I’m not
here to dine, Mr. Morgan.”
Her voice
was lilting through the chattering from other tables as if there were no other
sound but that of her own voice making words that would float effortlessly to
my ears.
“You know
my name. I must ask to be excused, I do not remember yours. Please, give me
your name and I assure you, I will never forget it again.”
“My name is Marianna… just Marianna.”
“My name is
Alex…”, she stopped me there and finished the sentence.
“…ander
Morgan. You do not know why you are here, alone, yet you are. You have no idea
who I am, and, I’m sorry to say, you won’t ever truly know.”
“Then, why?
How?”
“I came for one thing, and one thing only, but we must take it slow. One must
never rush into areas of the unknown without some measure of comprehension and
attention. Attention, Alexander, that is the most important aspect to hold on
to. Attention. Pay attention to everything and nothing at all.”
Confused, I
nodded in agreement and chose to allow her to lead. After all, I had no idea
what was happening, had no indication as to how this would end, couldn’t fathom
what would occur in the middle.
We began by
ordering a fine wine, not too sweet, not too dry and “room temperature, if you
please.”
She continued, reaching to touch my hand. Her hand was soft, and the warmth
radiated up my arm. I kept telling myself to pay attention.
She smiled
and lit up the room. She spoke and silenced the room. She inhaled, and I could
feel her pull the life out of me and then exhaled to give it back. All the
while, the conversation was easy and slowly deepening into what I could only
describe as a seduction, a play on my senses that was weakening me to her
desires yet strengthening me in my understanding of her intention… one simple
intention.
“I must leave now, will you escort me, please?”
I paid the bill, signed with a 30% tip for taking up a good table without ever
ordering a meal, rose to pull her chair out and offer and hand for her to rise.
That is when I noticed the true beauty of her skin, her demeanor, her poise,
her presence… “Do you have a ticket for the valet? I’ll call for your car.”
“No, Alexander. I do not have a car.”
“Is someone picking you up? Shall I call you a taxi?”
“No need, Alexander. I am not leaving you. I am here to retrieve something of
great value from you and once I have it, I will know. You will realize the
purpose of this strange meeting.”
I asked if
she had a wrap or coat and again, “No, Alexander. I have no need of it.”
Once we were outside and walking to my car, she stopped me. “Alexander, close
your eyes. We are going somewhere else, somewhere you will feel comfortable and
all will seem familiar to you. There, we will discover the answer to the
question.”
I opened my
eyes, naked beneath the sheets upon my own bed and she was dressed in a white
negligee’, revealing just enough to sate my appetite yet was truly the
appetizer. I had no idea what was happening, but I knew I must pay attention.
REMEMBER.
I had to
remember. How did she like it? It had to be perfect or she would vanish. This
had happened before. It had happened many times before. This time, I was
determined to do it the way she like it.
She sat next to me on the bed and I rose enough to be in a sitting position. I
took the back of my hand and stroked her face, she laid her head against it. I
placed my hand on the back of her neck and placed a kissed on her cheek. She
blushed.
The air became fragrant. The smell of… roses. Every time I touched her, it
released the sweet aroma of roses. I kissed her near her earlobe but under her
jaw and again and again, making my way gently to her nape. There I slipped my
finger under the strap of her gown and pulled it down. I sucked ever so shallow
upon her nape before breathing slowly and warmly, remaining close to the skin,
to her breast.
I dare not
go any further here. Not yet.
I held her
chin between my thumb and fingers and looked deeply into her eyes. She closed
them, as if she did not want me to see…
I touched
her lips with my own. Just a touch. I did it again and once more before I
slowly sucked her lower lip slightly into my mouth and released it playfully.
Her mouth was slightly opened, and I could hear her breath quickening. I took
both lips into mine and suckled softly. Stopping just long enough to give her a
moment of desire before returning.
Finally, I
began to bite down ever so lightly on that bottom lip then on her cheek, her
jaw, her ear, and back to those wonderful lips. I was met with the same.
I had finally gotten it right! She was returning the kisses as if she
remembered. It was as if I remembered. No tongue. Not inside the mouth. But, I
could lick her lips just enough, not to wet them but to moisten them. More lip
play and I went in for the bigger kiss – she arched her back against the other hand
that had been holding her and I slowly laid her down and joined her beneath the
duvet.
Her head
sunk into the pillow and I could hear the moans emanating from her, like a cat
purring. I slipped closer to her and angled my body so that I could cup her breasts
in one hand while still supporting her body with the other. I suckled one
nipple and then the other.
Her body was shaking beneath me and I knew the moment was nearing. “Alexander.”
“I will
give you whatever you ask from me.”
“Make love
to me. Now.”
I reached
for panties that were not there, I went to lift the gown that was no longer
there. I felt for her – she was still there, and my hand brushed against her
stomach on its way to her open bud. There, she was fully in bloom.
“Now, Alexander. Now, before…”
“Before? Before what?” I was mounting her while holding my weight above her
instead of lying on her. “Did I kiss you the way you needed?”
“Yes. And now we are going to make love, finally.”
I entered
with ease upon her and we found our cadence immediately. She was beyond a pure
sense of pleasure and had entered into her euphoria, her time had come, and I
could feel her contractions as she let go.
I followed soon after with my own spasms and fell aside her. To hold her body,
feel the heat that was set by my own flame, to be able to listen to her heart
recover and then spoil her again…
She was not
there. She was not there! I reached beside me and turned on the light, I
searched the apartment, there was no sign of her. Her clothing was not there.
There was no negligee. There was no indication that she had existed. I did not
understand.
I smelled it. That aroma, I could smell it. I ran into the bedroom and the
fragrance of roses filled the air. “You finally did it the way I like it,
Alexander. You remembered. You paid attention. Now you understand.”
“I am yours, forever. I am your fantasy. I will always be yours and yours
alone. I become real when you call me to you, but I will never be able to
remain here. I am a fantasy, your fantasy.”
Every Saturday
evening at seven, I would have that table reserved and I would sit and drink a
wine, not too sweet and not too dry and always at room temperature. I would
never order a meal, tip the waiter 30% for his trouble, and return home to my
bed, and Marianna.
M Teresa Clayton
for a friend, JR, who needs a fantasy.
