MARIANNA

MATURE READERS ONLY

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.