AVISOS: linguagem agressiva, casamento "forçado", imagine foge um pouco da realidade do Z, violência (não contra a protagonista, calma).
N/A:. Amigas, já faz um tempo que não escrevo nada com o Zayn, espero que vocês gostem disso aqui porque geralmente, imagines com ele as pessoas não curtem muito não. Como deixei nos avisos, esse imagine foge da realidade do Zayn porque trata de um assunto que ocorre muito em livros de romance rss e ele não é famoso aqui <3 Enfim, se quiserem deixar suas opiniões depois também vou ficar muito agradecida! Escrevi com muito carinho para recompensar o sumiço, torcendo p vcs curtirem. 💋
— Senhora, deseja tomar alguma coisa? Remédio, chá... Qualquer coisa. — Moira resmungou olhando para você de uma maneira extremamente preocupada, uma vez que você está enrolada nos lençóis de sua cama há horas, e ao menos deu as caras na sua faculdade.
A dor de cabeça, a tontura e a alta temperatura corporal, juntas, te deixam extremamente frustrada, principalmente por não poder se levantar para tomar um banho devidamente, você sabe que se tentar pode acabar caindo e batendo com a cara no chão.
Além de tudo isso, você não deixa de se sentir magoada com o seu marido. Sim, o Zayn! Ele não se importa com você, já fazem horas que não volta para casa e você sabe que ele está trabalhando, por isso mesmo não se importa contigo. Para ele, o trabalho é muito mais importante.
Vocês são casados há dois anos. Não é muito tempo, mas você se sente sufocada pela falta de atenção dele. Certo... O casamento de vocês foi estritamente contratual. Zayn é um rico empresário e para poder ressuscitar os negócios em sua empresa, ele precisava limpar a imagem de mulherengo e irresponsável que carregava nas costas durante grande parte da sua vida. Com o falecimento de seu pai, ele se viu na obrigação de mudar e casar-se com uma boa moça para mostrar à sociedade que agora é um “homem de família” e para não acabar falindo. Todavia, óbvio, essa ideia veio de seus assessores, porque ele nunca aceitaria algo assim.
Você estudou com ele na adolescência no ensino médio. Por um ano. Um único ano, porque no seguinte acabou perdendo a bolsa que ganhou por falta de notas dignas daquela instituição que estudava. Depois daquele ano, você achou que nunca mais veria o Zayn, mas o destino mais uma vez cruzou ambos os seus caminhos. Por alguma razão desconhecida.
Até hoje, você nunca entendeu como ele chegou até você novamente. Mas para resumir a história, ele simplesmente mandou um de seus assessores ao posto de gasolina que você trabalhava, numa tediosa manhã de quarta-feira e te fez a proposta que lhe trouxe à essa mansão, ao casamento em que está inserida hoje.
Zayn propôs à sua família estabilidade financeira, além de pagar a sua faculdade para que aceitasse se tornar a Sra. Malik; você, claro, aceitou depois de muita insistência e após analisar o cenário caótico que sua família se encontrava, logo após seu pai perder o emprego e por seu salário não cobrir todos os gastos de sua família.
Mas não imaginava que seria tão humilhada. Até porque, desde que se casaram, Zayn não tocou em você. O que, no início, você achou o máximo por jurar que jamais se apaixonaria por ele, que o seu toque não lhe faria a menor falta... Porém, hoje em dia, está fazendo muito e você não aceita se sentir assim, Zayn é o homem mais frio que você conhece.
Atualmente, você não sabe como aguentou por tanto tempo tudo isso. Talvez pela faculdade, você sempre quis cursar medicina e atuar na área como pediatra. É o seu sonho que está se realizando tão agilmente... É essa a razão pela qual você está suportando a frieza e indiferença do Zayn.
Mesmo diante dessa situação, você sabe que acabou quebrando várias das regras do “contrato” de vocês. Regras essas que incluíam, claramente, não se apaixonar ou se interessar um pelo outro, até porque tudo não se passa de uma farsa.
De alguma maneira, no entanto, você interessou pelo seu marido. É isso o que te deixa tão magoada e entristecida.
— Muito obrigada, Moira... Mas eu não estou com vontade de comer ou tomar nada. Estou enjoada! — você resmungou em resposta, sentindo que sua cabeça dói mais à medida que as palavras saem da sua boca.
Moira encarou o monte dentro dos lençóis e suspirou, se aproximando da cama. Temerosa, traumatizada pelas broncas que acaba levando do dono da casa. — Senhora, se me permite insistir... Sei a receita de um chá que combate os sintomas que está sentindo agora. Se tomá-lo, amanhã já estará bem melhor, eu tenho certeza! — ela insistiu mais um pouco, torcendo para que você concorde.
Suspirando, você pensou que talvez seja melhor tentar. Já não aguenta mais estar deitada, é ruim para você. — Tudo bem, Moira. Me traga esse chá, por favor!
Com um sorriso animado, a mulher disse um “ok” e foi correndo preparar o tal chá.
Enquanto estava sozinha, você pensou no seu marido. De novo! Pensou se ele sabia que estava doente, pensou se poderia pelo menos, por um segundo, ter se preocupado contigo, com o seu estado de saúde; até porque, se não estiver bem, não poderá continuar fingindo que é a esposa dele.
Mas você sabia a resposta. De alguma forma, seu interior respondeu àqueles questionamentos de uma maneira dolorosa, mas verdadeira: “Para de ser estúpida. Você sabe que ele não liga”.
Moira voltou rapidamente com uma xícara em mãos. O chá ainda estava parcialmente quente, o que o fazia fumegar dentro do objeto. — Aqui está, senhora. — ela disse, estendendo na sua direção.
Você encarou o líquido dentro da xícara e pelo cheiro não parecia nada bom.... Mas ainda crente na promessa de Moira de que, no dia seguinte você estaria melhor, acabou tomando aquilo rapidamente antes de vomitar no carpete do quarto. — Vou preparar um banho para a senhora. Vai se sentir bem melhor e dormirá bem.
Você permaneceu sentada na sua cama, ponderando sobre assuntos que se resumiam ao moreno tatuado, mas tentava desviar seus pensamentos dele, até porque o mesmo não merecia toda aquela atenção. Você até pensou que ele poderia estar te traindo!
Isso te fez ferver ainda mais, mediante a raiva que sentiu.
— Já está pronto, Sra. Malik! — Moira exclamou e você revirou os olhos.
— Não me chame assim, Moira. Sabe que não me sinto confortável.
— Tudo bem, desculpe. — lamentou — Quer que eu ligue para o seu marido? Posso avisar a ele que-
— Ele ligou para saber sobre mim? — questionou, rígida. A mulher negou. — Então, não é necessário que ligue para ele. O deixe. Não preciso da preocupação dele.
Você disse aquilo mas sabia que estava mentindo. Moira também sabia... Ela percebe muitas coisas entre vocês dois, inclusive o sentimento que você vem alimentando a respeito dele. Mas como sendo apenas uma empregada, sabe que não pode se envolver nos assuntos de seus patrões.
Entrando no banheiro, você tomou banho calmamente, lutando para se manter firme, já que a tontura ainda não havia te abandonado.
• • •
No dia seguinte, tal como Moira prometeu, você acordou bem melhor e se sentiu disposta o suficiente para ir à faculdade. Zayn não deu as caras, e isso te motivou a avisar a Moira que você não voltaria para casa naquele dia, ficaria na casa de uma amiga durante a noite; claro, isso depois de agradecê-la pelo chá que você intitulou “milagroso” por, de fato, ter lhe restaurado as forças.
— Tudo bem, senhora. Tenha um ótimo dia! — foram as suas últimas palavras antes de você sair de casa e entrar no carro do seu marido (este que não estava sendo dirigido por ele, só para constar) e rumar para a sua faculdade.
— Sério que você vai poder dormir lá em casa hoje? Seu marido realmente autorizou? — o tom de choque era evidente na voz de Louisa, que sabia muito bem o tipo de marido que Zayn é.
Mas, ao contrário do que ela pensa, ele jamais te proibiu de se divertir, ou de dormir na casa de quem quer que seja. O que é justo e compreensível, uma vez que ele se importa mais com o cachorro do vizinho do que contigo.
Pelo menos é o que você acha.
— Sim. Ele nunca me proibiu de fazer qualquer coisa! — você respondeu, como se não se importasse com a situação em questão e a sua amiga, inocente, acreditou. Ela admirou o seu casamento por isso.
O dia se passou de uma maneira... Cotidiana. Lógico, uma vez que pensar no Zayn e imaginar uma realidade paralela à sua já se tornou rotina, você se sente mais confortável em imaginar que, se chegasse em casa nesse momento, seu marido iria te cumprimentar educadamente, beijar a sua boca e admitir o quanto sentiu a sua falta. Talvez depois disso ele te convidasse para tomar um banho e transaria contigo loucamente no banheiro.
Bom, você jamais admitiria que pensa dessa forma.
Aliás, o corpo de Zayn sempre foi um mistério para você. Pelo menos por inteiro... Porque você já o viu sem camisa, em inúmeros momentos em que foi pega de surpresa pela imagem dele dessa forma. Você ficou hipnotizada, mas ele ao menos deu atenção a você ou a sua presença. Nem um comentário engraçadinho sobre você estar o secando... Nada.
Quando as aulas terminaram, você dispensou seu motorista para ir a um restaurante com Louisa. Almoçariam juntas e em seguida, iriam para a casa dela, provavelmente encher a cara poucas horas depois do almoço. Esse comentário é o que ela mais fala desde que você aceitou dormir na casa dela por esta noite.
Vocês passaram ótimas horas juntas. Falaram sobre diversos assuntos, de fato beberam até perderem o próprio controle (pelos céus, você estava doente há poucas horas, mas ainda queria arriscar). Se embriagar era a melhor opção para você quando estava sóbria, mas quando já o tinha feito, se arrependeu amargamente por ter começado, uma vez que, com o álcool percorrendo seus vasos sanguíneos, você pensava ainda mais no seu marido estúpido e em como gostaria que ele... Olhasse, gostasse de você.
Da mesma forma que você começou a gostar dele.
Mas que porra, isso é um absurdo! Mas como você poderia estar morando há dois anos sob o mesmo teto que um homem como o Zayn e não se apaixonar? É meio improvável.
E como isso se iniciou você ao menos sabe... O que é uma droga. Você ainda tem esperança que um dia supere tudo aquilo. Talvez quando concluir a faculdade e finalmente poder se desvincular de Zayn Malik e de tudo o que o envolve.
As horas foram se passando e você só se lembra de sua amiga capotando no sofá de sua sala, afirmando que não estava mais aguentando permanecer de pé.
• • •
Um cheiro muito forte de cigarro inundou seus sentidos e você fez uma careta, se perguntando quando Louisa começara a fumar, até porque ela sempre detestou cigarros e tudo o que tem haver com eles. — Mas que porra! — resmungou ao se levantar (ainda com os olhos fechados), mediante a pontada que sentiu na cabeça. — Louisa, que merda! Apaga essa droga de cigarro!
— Eu não sabia que você era uma alcoólatra, S/N. — ao ouvir a voz dele, você abriu os olhos no mesmo instante, por causa do susto.
Olhou para ele e o viu sentado numa poltrona, bem de frente para ti. Você analisou com cuidado o local onde estava e percebeu estar deitada num sofá, no escritório dele.
Mas não acreditou que aquela cena era verdadeira... Desconfiou que tudo aquilo se tratava de uma alucinação. Talvez tenha bebido demais. — Sai da minha cabeça. — você ordenou, passando as mãos pelos cabelos incansáveis vezes. Até massageou o próprio couro cabeludo, na esperança de se curar da dor de cabeça que sente.
Zayn bufou, ao mesmo tempo que revirava os olhos. Se levantou e pegou um copo de água que havia em sua mesa, e jogou dentro do mesmo uma aspirina. — Além de ser uma bêbada, também é doida? Pelo amor de Deus. — ele entregou o copo em suas mãos e você até pensou em negar e não beber, mas pelo olhar que ele te lançou, você sabia que não poderia recusar.
Não tinha opções.
As coisas pareciam estar ficando cada vez mais reais.
— Eu não estava aqui. Quem me trouxe? — perguntou, ácida.
— Você ainda pergunta? — indagou de volta, quase sem esperar você terminar de falar. — Fui eu quem te trouxe.
— Eu não pedi. Você não pode se envolver nos meus assuntos desse jeito. — mesmo sendo grossa, Zayn a ignorou completamente.
— Claro que eu posso. Sou o seu marido. Ou você se esqueceu disso?
— Nosso casamento é uma grande mentira e você sabe muito bem que não deve se basear nisso para justificar seu comportamento tóxico. — ele já tinha virado as costas para colocar de volta o copo na mesa, mas voltou a te olhar. Com uma sobrancelha arqueada.
— Qual a porra do sobrenome que está nos seus documentos de identificação? — questionou, duramente. Ele não desviava o olhar do seu e você sentiu sua pele arrepiando.
— Isso n-
— O meu sobrenome está na tua identificação, caralho. Isso quer dizer que eu sou o seu marido e tenho autoridade para ir te buscar e dizer que você não devia ter dormido fora de casa.
— Você faz isso o tempo inteiro, Zayn. Por que eu não posso fazer? Eu só estava me divertindo com a minha amiga, já me cansei de estar presa nesta casa, não aguento mais viver assim! — respondeu num tom cansado, falava mais alto para demonstrar a sua indignação que não passou despercebida por ele.
— Eu tenho estado muito ocupado no meu trabalho, S/N. Você sabe disso. Independente de qualquer coisa, quando chego em casa quero que esteja aqui. — ele falou e foi então que te deu as costas mais uma vez.
— Você é a merda de um hipócrita, não tem o direito de me tratar desse jeito, quando tudo o que você mais tem feito durante esse tempo que estamos casados é me tratar como se eu fosse um lixo. Não seja ridículo, Zayn. Você me prende nesta casa, não posso sair sem um motorista e ainda fala como se se importasse comigo?
— O problema é você sair com o motorista? Tudo bem, pode sair sem ele. É só escolher a merda de um carro na garagem, eu não me importo! Mas não te quero dormindo na casa de ninguém, principalmente daquela tua amiga! Ela tem um tarado morando com ela e eu não quero você perto daquele cara!
Ele se referiu a Tom, o irmão mais novo de Louisa. — O quê? Ele é irmão dela!
— Não quero saber, S/N. Você é uma mulher casada, a minha mulher! Eu exijo que você me respeite e nunca mais vá dormir na casa de qualquer pessoa sem me avisar.
Você ficou sem acreditar naquelas palavras tão duras. Simplesmente se levantou e saiu andando, sem sequer olhar para trás.
Zayn foi bruto nas palavras, estava agindo movido pelos ciúmes e a raiva que sentiu quando entrou na casa de Louisa e flagrou Tom checando se você estava bem, até porque havia capotado no sofá e já não reagira. O garoto estava sendo inocente nas suas ações, mas seu marido não enxergou a situação desse jeito.
Nos dias que se passaram, vocês dois não se falaram. Mas uma chave apareceu na cômoda ao lado de sua cama e quando você chegou na garagem para saber a qual carro aquela chave pertencia, notou que Zayn havia te dado permissão para dirigir a sua Porsche Panamera, um dos carros mais lindos que estão na garagem.
Seu queixo foi ao chão.
S/N pov
Não entendi a razão pela qual Zayn realmente me deixou dirigir aquele carro divino. Mas eu não pensei muito... Talvez devesse ser orgulhosa numa situação como essa e não aceitar dirigir um carro dele, mas não conseguia. Seria boba demais se o fizesse.
Destravei-o e entrei. Encarei aquele painel e mesmo estando um pouco nervosa, me atrevi a ligá-lo e dar partida até a minha faculdade.
A princípio, eu me dei bem. Sai do condomínio do Zayn e com bastante cuidado e atenção, segui pelo caminho muito conhecido por mim. Parei no primeiro, no segundo e no terceiro sinal. Tudo parecia estar fluindo muito bem, até eu chegar no quarto sinal... O último antes de chegar na faculdade, só para constar.
Foi aí que um carro entrou na rodovia na contramão. Ele fez uma curva para, ao que parece, tentar dar a volta mas não deu tempo... Bateu na lateral do carro do Zayn, o que me fez rodopiar na pista até que batesse num muro. Minha cabeça bateu com muita força no vidro, e eu até gritei pelo susto.
Um barulho muito alto consegui ouvir, mas com certeza foi a lataria do carro amassando ao entrar em contato com o muro, com tamanha força. Meu coração estancou dentro do peito e eu só conseguia pensar no que Zayn falaria pra mim depois de saber o que eu fiz.
— Tem alguém lá dentro! — eu ouvi alguém gritando do lado de fora, passados alguns momentos.
Mesmo tonta, eu abri a porta do carro e saí andando, me apoiando nele pois sabia que poderia cair se tentasse me equilibrar. — Oh, meu Deus! Você ‘tá bem, moça? — a mesma voz me perguntou, e eu olhei na direção do som, percebendo se tratar de um homem..
— Não muito, eu... Ah, que droga! — fiquei muito mais nervosa e trêmula quando olhei a situação do carro.
Jesus Cristo, o Zayn vai acabar comigo.
— Calma, moça. Já chamamos a ambulância! — ouvi outra pessoa murmurar.
Recebi a atenção devida até que a polícia chegasse. Logo, eles vieram falar comigo e alguns outros foram falar com o engraçadinho que bateu em mim. — Senhora, tem alguém com quem possamos entrar em contato? — perguntou-me uma policial.
— Tem o meu marido, mas não quero que ligue pra ele, não. — respondi, já o imaginando me falando coisas horríveis.
— Como assim? — ela me perguntou, sem entender.
Foram se juntando algumas pessoas em volta do carro, algumas até gravavam. Tudo isso só aumentava o meu nervosismo. Pouco tempo depois, os policiais afastaram os curiosos e isolaram a área, mas eu ainda não conseguia me sentir bem.
Eu não precisei nem explicar para a policial o porquê eu não queria que ligasse para o Zayn naquele momento, porque a droga do carro dele estacionou ali perto e eu nem precisei de muito esforço para reconhecê-lo. — Cadê a minha mulher? — ele gritou com um policial e simplesmente veio andando em minha direção. Sua expressão não estava nada boa. — Quem foi o infeliz que fez isso com ela?
Ele olhou para o rapaz e foi na direção dele como a droga de um foguete. — Escuta aqui seu irresponsável de merda, eu vou acabar com a sua vida! Você poderia ter matado a minha mulher, seu infeliz!
— Senhor, peço que se acalme-
— Me acalmar? Esse desgraçado tentou matar a minha esposa e você ainda me pede pra ter calma? — ele não estava conseguindo se controlar. E o pior, eu não conseguia nem me mover porque estava apavorada, sabia que ele iria surtar comigo. Porra, esse carro deve valer o meu corpo no mercado ilegal, a primeira vez que coloquei as minhas mãos nele já o destruí. Ele teria total razão em me matar por isso.
Os policiais o seguraram e pediam a todo instante para que ele se acalmasse, já que estava querendo avançar no rapaz que claramente está alcoolizado. A situação dele não está das melhores.
Precisei me aproximar e tocar nele, tentando chamar a sua atenção. — Zayn, por favor... Se acalme. — eu pedi, baixinho. Apertei o braço dele e isso bastou para que ele me olhasse. — Me desculpa, eu deveria ter prestado mais atenção, sei que o seu carro-
Minha tentativa de explicação foi interrompida quando ele me agarrou, me abraçando apertado. O primeiro abraço que ele me dá, em dois anos de casamento... E ele simplesmente me apertou com bastante força, como se eu fosse escorregar pelos seus braços.
Jesus, o que está acontecendo aqui?
— Meu Deus, não imagina o quanto fiquei preocupado. Você está bem? — ele perguntava, enquanto analisava o meu corpo. Até que olhou para a minha cabeça e deve ter visto o pequeno corte que se fez mediante o impacto no vidro.
— Eu... Eu tô bem-
— Eu vou matar esse infeliz. Esse bastardo vai pagar muito caro-
— Se acalma, eu... Eu estou bem. Foi um acidente, Zayn.
Ainda não consigo acreditar que estamos tendo essa interação e que ele, está pelo menos fingindo que se importa comigo. — Não. Ele causou isso e vai pagar. — ditas essas palavras, ele se afastou de mim e dessa vez, não o conseguiram impedir de chegar perto do rapaz.
Zayn deu um soco na sua boca, o que o fez se desequilibrar e cair de bunda no chão. — Você vai custear o meu carro, todos os danos causados. Não quero saber como vai fazer isso, mas a conta de tudo o que você estragou vai estar chegando na sua casa hoje mesmo. E se não quiser que eu acabe com a sua raça você vai pagar tudo, caralho! Tudo!
Meu marido ligou para um de seus assessores e conversou com o mesmo por algum tempo. Assim que desligou a ligação, não demorou muito para que este estivesse ali também. Zayn só o chamou para dar continuidade à resolução daquele problema, pois logo veio até mim. — Vamos embora, você precisa ir ao hospital.
Dito isso, ele colocou seu braço sobre meu ombro e me guiou até o seu carro, tão bonito quanto aquela Porsche. — Não quero. Eu quero ir embora, me leva pra casa, por favor. — não me sinto mal, eu só quero poder me enfurnar no quarto e tentar me recuperar.
Ele realmente iria embora. — E o carro?
— me arrisquei a perguntar, ainda com o rosto queimando de vergonha.
— Não se preocupe, Sam vai cuidar disso para mim. — respondeu ele, sério.
Ao abrir a porta do carro pra mim, também entrou e então deu partida até a sua casa. — Não vai brigar comigo? Eu peguei aquele carro pela primeira vez e já o destruí.
Ele me olhou com uma sobrancelha arqueada.
— Está esperando que eu brigue com você pelo quê exatamente, S/N? — indagou, mas não ficou me encarando por muito tempo, focou na pista à nossa frente.
— Eu bati o seu carro. — repeti, sem acreditar que ele não vai brigar comigo.
— Bateram em você. — corrigiu.
— Mas-
— Para de bobeira, S/N. Eu não vou brigar com você, por que raios faria isso?
Eu não sabia o que dizer. Ele nunca agiu desse jeito, era muito inacreditável para mim. Só fiquei em silêncio, e Zayn também não tentou conversar mais.
Chegamos em casa e ele estacionou o seu carro. Na garagem. Ainda vestia suas roupas de trabalho, claro que ele saiu correndo para checar o que tinha acontecido, é por isso que eu fico ainda com mais vergonha.
Pelos céus. Nunca mais coloco as minhas mãos nos carros deste homem; na verdade, os motoristas não me incomodam.
— Está com dor de cabeça? Precisa de algum remédio? — perguntou ele, ao estacionar. Só desligou o veículo e voltou a sua atenção totalmente para mim.
— Não.
— Claro que precisa. — ele rebateu — Eu ainda acho que vou te levar ao médico. Não confio em você.
— Eu estou bem, já disse. — reafirmei. Já estava sem graça demais por tudo o que aconteceu, sendo assim, abri a porta do carro para sair dali. — Enfim, obrigada por ter ido lá me buscar e... Bem, por não brigar comigo. Eu realmente não fiz por querer, Zayn. — ao falar assim, eu realmente saí do veículo.
Não olhei nem para trás, mas ele veio atrás de mim. — Eu quero cuidar de você, S/N. — ele disse do nada, me assustando. Fiquei simplesmente sem reação, meus pés travaram no chão. Não consegui andar mais, nem ao menos me virar para ele.
— O que? — perguntei, desacreditada.
— Você me ouviu. Eu não posso deixar você desse jeito. Você acabou de sofrer um acidente, preciso ficar de olho em você. — repetiu. Pela forma como falava, eu senti que ele também estava sem jeito e eu, pior ainda.
Finalmente me virei para olhar em seus olhos e vi na expressão dele como estava atordoado. E não é pra menos... Zayn é tão frio e orgulhoso, para mim é uma grande surpresa tudo o que aconteceu hoje. Preciso de um tempo para digerir tudo isso.
— Não precisa se preocupar, obrigada.
— Será que dá pra você sair da defensiva? Eu só quero ajudar. Porra, S/N. Colabora aí.
Percebi que ele estava disposto a me infernizar até eu dar o braço a torcer. E além disso, também estava completamente sem graça; sendo assim, eu não me opus mais. Fiquei quieta. Zayn, mais uma vez me surpreendeu... Ele me pegou no colo e me levou até o nosso quarto.
No caminho, dei de cara com Moira. Ela estava nos olhando em completo choque. — Você precisa de um banho. — afirmou ao me deixar sentada na cama.
Como se eu fosse uma criança. Ele me ajudou a tirar as roupas, preparou um banho quente para mim e me ajudou com as feridas em minha cabeça. O toque dele era delicado, muito cuidadoso. Eu jamais admitiria em voz alta, mas eu esperei por tanto tempo por isso; a paixão que eu alimentei por esse homem nesses anos em que estamos casados é o que faz o meu coração acelerar tanto por tê-lo tão pertinho de mim, e ainda mais, me cuidando desse jeito que eu jamais imaginei que aconteceria.
Eu sinto que estou sonhando.
Me senti uma inválida quando ele me ajudou até a deitar na cama e ajeitou os travesseiros atrás de mim. Zayn ficou com o rosto bem próximo do meu. Beijou a minha testa com os olhos fechados e, sem se afastar, ele sussurrou:
— Me perdoe, S/N. Me perdoe por ser tão estúpido com você durante todo esse tempo.
Aviso: conteúdo sexualmente explícito, linguagem de baixo calão, +18
Zayn
Joguei o corpo para trás, exclamando uma série de palavrões. Precisava entregar aquele arranjo ainda hoje, mas nenhuma das minhas ideias parecia boa o suficiente.
Fiz e refiz uma dezena de vezes e sempre parecia medíocre.
— Talvez um banho me ajude. — Resmunguei para mim mesmo, me erguendo na cadeira onde estive nas últimas horas.
Meu corpo inteiro reclamava de estar praticamente na mesma posição há tanto tempo.
Entrei no quarto em silêncio, sabendo que S\N devia estar dormindo, já que recém estava amanhecendo.
Vestindo apenas uma camiseta minha e uma camiseta minúscula, minha garota respirava de forma lenta. Abraçando o meu travesseiro, como se fosse eu quem estivesse ali a acompanhando.
Não deixava de me sentir culpado por não poder dar a devida atenção à minha namorada. Mas tinha um prazo a cumprir.
Tirei minhas roupas e as joguei de qualquer jeito no chão do banheiro. Liguei o chuveiro quente e deixei que a água relaxasse meus músculos. Não sei quanto tempo fiquei com os olhos fechados, apenas aproveitando a sensação.
— Amor? — Uma S\N sonolenta chamou da porta do banheiro. — Está tudo bem? — Ouvi seu bocejar.
— Sim. Eu só precisava relaxar um pouco.
O box de vidro estava embaçado, mas eu podia ver sua silhueta, tirando a camiseta do corpo e baixando a calcinha. A porta foi aberta e minha garota me deu um sorrisinho, como quem pedisse permissão. Chamei-a com o indicador.
Dei um passo para o lado, deixando que ela molhasse o próprio corpo, e me perdendo nas gotas de água que desciam por sua pele.
Faziam dias que sequer nos tocávamos direito. Que eu apenas deitava na cama, exausto e apagava.
E, por mais que estivesse bem cansado agora, meu pau parecia discordar de mim.
S\N jogou a cabeça para trás, molhando os cabelos compridos com os olhos fechados. Deixando o pescoço esguio totalmente à mostra.
— Conseguiu terminar o arranjo? — Perguntou ainda com os olhos fechados.
— Ainda não. — Minha voz saiu mais grossa que o normal, o que a fez me encarar.
Os olhos castanhos desceram pelo meu corpo, parando exatamente na parte que implorava por atenção. Não consegui deixar de me sentir levemente envergonhado, ela não havia entrado lá para esse tipo de coisa, provavelmente só queria passar algum tempo comigo.
Mas o sorriso sacana que se abriu nos lábios avermelhados fizeram meu íntimo ter um espasmo.
— Você precisa relaxar, hum? — Falou baixinho. — Quer ajuda? — Acenei com a cabeça. Não sabia o que ela pretendia, mas estava completamente sedento.
S\N desligou o chuveiro, me empurrando pelos ombros até que encostasse na parede fria. Encarei seus movimentos, totalmente transtornado enquanto ela se colocava de joelhos. Lambendo os próprios lábios antes de me fitar com os olhos cheios de uma falsa inocência.
A mão pequena me tomou, me fazendo arrepiar. Não consigo desviar os olhos de sua figura, capturando o momento exato em que ela coloca a língua toda para fora, pincelando meu pau como a porra de um pirulito.
Encosto a cabeça na parede, sem conseguir segurar o gemido que me escapa.
Sem aviso prévio, S\N me toma com a boca. Engolindo tudo que pode.
— Caralho. — Resmungo.
Os sons molhados e de sucção são a perdição, assim como a sensação de sua boca quente à minha volta.
Ela me chupa de forma lenta, se deliciando e me levando ao limite. Embrenho uma das mãos entre os cabelos úmidos, guiando sua boca perfeita em um ritmo mais rápido.
A cena à minha frente é suja.
Minha garota de joelhos no chão do banheiro, os pingos de água escorrendo por sua pele, os mamilos duros em puxa excitação e a boca que me engole com devoção.
Sinto um orgasmo se formando aos poucos e perco totalmente o controle. Enfiando até bater em sua garganta. Lágrimas se formam nos olhos castanhos, mas S\N geme.
Fazendo sua boca tremer e reverberar em todo o meu corpo.
Afasto seu rosto, segurando ao máximo. Mas ela nega com a cabeça, segurando minhas coxas para que eu não me movesse.
— Amor, não vou conseguir segurar. — Aviso quase sem fôlego.
— Não se segure. Quero sentir você. — Ela sorri com os lábios inchados e volta a me abocanhar, com ainda mais vontade.
Jogo a cabeça para trás, revirando os olhos e gemendo alto quando o orgasmo me atinge. Mas ela não para. Engolindo até a última gota, sem deixar nada escapar.
Orgulhosa, ela se levanta. Limpando os resquícios do meu gosto com a língua.
— Me deixa cuidar de você. — Sussurrei me aproximando, mas ela liga o chuveiro.
— Não. Sua nova meta agora é terminar o arranjo. Quando estiver pronto, vai poder fazer o que quiser comigo. — Piscou um olho.
De repente o prazo já não me preocupa mais. Tudo que eu quero é terminar aquela merda e foder a minha mulher até perder os sentidos.
Liam
Equilibrei a bandeja com lanches em apenas um braço enquanto abria a porta do estúdio improvisando, fazendo o meu melhor para não fazer nenhum barulho.
— Amor? — Chamei baixinho, quando vi que Liami não estava gravando nada. Ele girou a cadeira de rodinhas em minha direção, me dando um sorriso cansado.
Já faziam duas semanas que ele trabalhava sem parar em seu álbum.
Entrei no estúdio, largando minha bandeja na mesinha de canto e indo em sua direção. Passei as mãos em seus ombros, fazendo uma pequena massagem. Liam curvou o corpo para a frente, encostando o rosto em meu peito, aproveitando o carinho.
— Posso fazer algo para ajudar? — Ofereci. Ele abriu apenas um olho, erguendo levemente o rosto para me olhar.
— Um abraço e um beijo bem gostoso? — Pediu fazendo beicinho, o que me fez rir.
Tomei o rosto lindo entre as mãos, tocando meus lábios nos seus de forma leve. Mas, ele não pareceu satisfeito, me puxando para sentar em seu colo e aprofundando o beijo com sua língua quente.
A cadeira se moveu com o peso extra, mas ele pareceu não se importar. Segurando minha cintura com força enquanto sua língua explorava cada cantinho da minha boca. Soltei um gemido involuntário. Minha menstruação havia acabado há poucos dias e eu estava mais do que sensível.
Senti quando ele sorriu durante o beijo, me puxando mais para baixo e pressionando a ereção crescente contra mim.
— Preciso tanto de você, babe. — Sussurrou, desviando seus beijos para meu pescoço.
— Mas e o álbum? — Perguntei com dificuldade.
— Pode esperar um pouquinho. — Afirmou.
Sem dificuldade nenhuma, Liam se ergueu comigo no colo, segurando minhas coxas para apoiar meu peso. Seu corpo estava muito diferente desde que havia voltado a frequentar a academia, ele estava mais forte e sua condição física estava muito maior.
Por mais que entendesse seu empenho com o álbum, ficávamos longe por tempo demais e parecia que a chama entre não precisava de mais do que um beijo para virar brasa.
Ele me carregou até o sofá de couro no canto do estúdio, sentando comigo ainda por cima.
Movi meu quadril, soltando um suspiro alto.
Liam parecia não conseguir esperar. Ele ergueu o quadril, empurrando a calça de moletom e a cueca em um único movimento.
Enfiando a mão por baixo do vestido florido que me cobria, ele sorriu ao sentir o tecido fino da calcinha completamente ensopado.
Ele passeou com os dedos longos por ali, separando minha carne e me fazendo soluçar com os espasmos que me atingiam.
— Pare de provocar. — Implorei.
Os olhos castanhos tinham um brilho diferente. Sem esperar que eu pedisse uma segunda vez, o homem enganchou o indicador em minha calcinha, afastando-a para o lado o suficiente para que tivesse acesso.
Era impossível não gemer toda vez que ele me preenchia. Era sempre como a primeira vez. Tão bom, tão quente…
— Tão apertada, amor… — Sussurrou em meu ouvido, fazendo a um caminho molhado pelo meu pescoço com sua língua.
Eu adorava a dualidade dele. Um amor de pessoa com os fãs, o amigo legal.
E o lado que apenas eu conhecia, o pervertido.
Comecei a movimentar meu corpo para cima e para baixo, intercalando com algumas reboladas, como eu sabia que ele adorava. Em resposta, Liam mordeu meu queixo e desferiu um tapa ardido em minha bunda, me fazendo ir ainda mais rápido.
— Gostosa. — Murmurou. — Assim mesmo.
O vestido começava a me incomodar, mas eu não deixaria que aquilo atrapalhasse. Estava tão molhada que sabia que ele podia sentir escorrer em seu pau. Apoiei as duas mãos em seus ombros, pegando ainda mais impulso e fazendo com que ele soltasse uma série de palavrões, misturados a gemidos.
— Porra, linda… você é tão boa. — Murmurou. Os cabelos meio curtos grudaram no suor de sua testa e a expressão de prazer que se formava em seu rosto era o suficiente para me enlouquecer ainda mais.
Liam passou um braço em minha cintura, trocando nossas posições sem dificuldade nenhuma no sofá. Ele me puxou pelas coxas, fazendo com que minhas pernas ficassem bem abertas e voltou a entrar.
Joguei a cabeça entre as almofadas. Quase derretendo em tanto prazer.
Quanto mais minha sanidade me abandonava, mais ele metia.
O som de nossas peles se batendo preenchiam o pequeno estúdio, assim como nossas lamúrias de puro tesão.
O orgasmo me atingiu sem aviso prévio, me fazendo gritar e apertar a camiseta que ele ainda vestia. Minhas paredes apertavam junto com os espasmos que meu corpo sofria e não demorou muito para que o corpo forte desmoronasse sobre o meu, jorrando forte a ponto de escorrer para fora.
Liam sorriu satisfeito, deixando um selinho demorado em meus lábios antes de desfazer nosso encaixe.
— Eu amo você. — Sussurrou, ainda sem fôlego.
— Amo você. — Respondi, sem forças.
Niall
— Ah, sim. Perfeito. — Murmurei depois de ouvir uma longa explicação sobre o novo patrocínio.
Já faziam quase duas horas que estávamos em reunião, depois de longas horas de ensaio. Estava exausto. Só conseguia pensar no quanto queria comer alguma coisa e ir descansar.
Meu celular vibrou no bolso da calça e aproveitei que o homem engravatado havia engatado em uma conversa com meu agente.
A foto que S/N havia mandado enviou um recado direto para meu pau dentro da calça. Não era nada além do que ela costumava fazer.
Uma foto sua dentro de um provador, perguntando se eu gostava do vestido que havia acabado de comprar.
O tecido vermelho não era revelador demais, terminava no meio de suas coxas e o decote redondo salientava os seios deliciosos.
Não respondi, apenas me despedi daqueles que estavam na mesa inventando ter um outro compromisso que não poderia esperar e saí de lá o mais rápido possível, fazendo o meu melhor para esconder a ereção que havia dentro da calça.
Assim que entrei em meu apartamento, caminhei em passos largos até a cozinha. S/N cozinhava distraída, usando seu novo vestido.
Me aproximei lentamente, sem que ela notasse e segurei sua cintura. Minha namorada deu um pulinho de susto e sorriu ao me ver.
— Amor, achei que chegaria mais tarde. — Falou desligando o fogão e se virando para me abraçar.
Sem conseguir esperar mais, ataquei sua boca com a minha. Como sempre, minha garota correspondeu, embrenhando os dedos em meus cabelos e puxando alguns fios com delicadeza.
— O que foi isso? — Perguntou baixinho, ainda com os olhos fechados.
— Você não tem noção de como sua foto me deixou. — Sussurrei em seu ouvido antes de morder o lóbulo.
— A foto? Mas não tinha nada demais… — Suspirou ao sentir que minhas mãos apertavam sua bunda.
— Você ficou tão gostosa nesse vestido, meu amor. Não consegui pensar em mais nada além de vir aqui e te comer bem gostoso. — A pele de seu pescoço arrepiou, me fazendo sorrir.
Puxei o corpo da garota para cima do meu, caminhando com ela até o nosso quarto.
Não consigo pensar direito, o tesão corre solto em minhas veias.
Ataco sua boca com a minha antes de jogar seu corpo sobre o colchão. S\N solta um gritinho de surpresa, mas o sorriso sacana que se abre em sua boca mostra que ela está gostando.
Puxo os dois lados da minha camisa, fazendo os botões voarem por todo o quarto. Tiro o cinto e jogo a calça social longe, junto com a cueca. Não estou em condições mentais para aguentar joguinhos. S\N leva as mãos até a barra do vestido.
— Fica com ele. — Peço, fazendo-a assentir.
Subi na cama, caminhando de joelhos em sua direção. Enfiei as mãos por baixo do vestido, puxando a calcinha minúscula para fora.
O ar parece quente ao entrar em meu pulmão, o calor é insuportável. S/N coloca uma das mãos pequenas em meu peito, me empurrando para sentar e então vindo para cima de mim, passando uma perna de cada lado do meu corpo.
Puxo o decote do vestido para baixo, libertando seus seios mas aprisionando um entre meus lábios em seguida. Ela embala a cintura para a frente, esfregando minha glande pelo entrada molhada e me fazendo gemer contra a sua pele.
— Não brinca comigo, amor. — Avisei.
Não preciso dizer mais nada. S/N coloca a mão entre nossos corpos, me encaixando antes de afundar em meu colo. Reviro os olhos com o aperto, impulsionando o corpo para cima.
Nosso encaixe não é nada delicado. S/N praticamente pula em mim, gemendo alto e jogando a cabeça para trás. Eu ergo o vestido, fazendo com que fique embolado em sua cintura, e a imagem de como meu pau a preenche me deixa ainda mais sem controle. Afundo os dedos em sua cintura, metendo o mais forte que posso. S/N segura meus ombros, sorrisos misturados a gemidos.
O orgasmo atinge a nós dois sem nenhum aviso. Ela deixa seu corpo cair sobre o meu e eu enfio o rosto em seu pescoço. A corrente elétrica ainda percorre nossos corpos, tentamos encontrar o ar depois de tudo aquilo.
— Como foi a reunião? — Ela pergunta com um sorriso debochado.
— Eu não lembro. — Respondo com sinceridade.
Harry
Acordo assustada quando Harry sai da cama praticamente correndo. Ele parece esquecer que eu dormia em seu braço quando simplesmente se levantou de qualquer jeito.
— Amor? — Chamei ainda cheia de sono, fazendo-o para no caminho para o banheiro. — Está tudo bem?
— E-está. — Responde, mas o fato de gaguejar deixa claro que é uma mentira.
— O que aconteceu? — Sento na cama e ligo o abajur, iluminando o ambiente. — Teve um pesadelo?
— N-não.
— Amor, me deixa te ajudar. — Falo ainda encarando suas costas.
— Ah, porra. — Resmunga, me surpreendendo, já que ele raramente fala palavrão.
Levanto da cama, tocando em seus ombros, mas Harry se esquiva.
— O que está acontecendo, Styles? — Reclamo. O homem solta um suspiro alto, virando em minha direção finalmente. Seu rosto está completamente vermelho.
— Eu estava sonhando com você, okay? — Murmura, sem encarar meu rosto.
— E isso é ruim? — Pergunto ainda sem entender.
— Não, mas, é vergonhoso. — Bufa.
— Vergonhoso por que? — Franzo as sobrancelhas, confusa. Mas qualquer confusão some quando vejo o volume que preenche sua calça de moletom. — Oh…
— Desculpa, amor. — Ele suspira. — Eu vou tomar um banho e já… — Harry começa a se afastar, mas eu seguro seu pulso. Ele me encara, os olhos arregalados.
Por mais que sua personalidade expansiva não deixasse transparecer em frente aos outros, Harry era extremamente tímido para algumas coisas. Talvez fosse o fato de que cada passo que ele desse fosse sempre tão vigiado, mas, às vezes ele sequer conseguia aproveitar alguns momentos. E, mesmo que fosse extremamente carinhoso desde o começo do nosso relacionamento, há poucos meses, Harry não era o tipo que compartilhava suas fantasias ou falava obscenidades durante a transa. As poucas vezes que esse tipo de coisa aconteceu, havia bebida envolvida.
— Me conta sobre o sonho. — Pedi baixinho, puxando-o em direção da cama. Observei como seu pomo de adão subiu e desceu.
— A gente tava… — Começou, mas a timidez o tomou mais uma vez.
Sentamos lado a lado, e eu já podia sentir o calor começar a me tomar. Minhas mãos coçava para tocá-lo, mas não queria ultrapassar nenhum limite.
— Continua, meu bem. — Incentivei, colocando uma mão sobre seu joelho. Harry fechou os olhos e soltou um suspiro. — O que eu estava fazendo no seu sonho?
— Você estava… — Sussurrou a última parte, sendo impossível que eu ouvisse.
— Não entendi, meu amor. — Falei, com a voz um pouco mais manhosa, subindo a mão por sua coxa e sentindo os músculos enrijecendo.
— Porra. Você estava me chupando. — Não consigo conter o suspiro que me escapa. Isso é algo que nunca fizemos. — É nojento, me desculpa.
— Não acho nojento. — Murmuro, arrastando meu corpo para fora da cama. Styles observa cada uma da minhas movimentações. Paro a sua frente, ajoelhando entre suas pernas.
— O-o que está fazendo? — Pergunta baixinho, soltando um gemido estrangulado quando passo a mão em sua ereção por cima do moletom. Seguro a barra da calça, puxando-a para fora do seu corpo junto com a peça íntima. — V-você não precisa fazer isso. — Ele diz alto, nervoso.
— Eu quero. — Encarei seus olhos. — Não quer que eu te chupe, babe? — Tombei a cabeça para o lado, fingindo uma inocência que em nada combina com o meu atual estado.
— Ah, caralho. — Harry jogou o corpo um pouco para trás, apoiando o peso nos braços.
Com os olhos fixos aos seus, deixei um carinho por toda a extensão da carne dura e quente. Fazendo-o soltar todo o ar que prendia nos pulmões.
— Não respondeu a minha pergunta, H. — Passei a língua entre os lábios. — Quer que eu te chupe?
— Porra, eu quero.
Passo a língua pela cabeça avermelhada, seus suspiros preenchem meus ouvidos, me encorajando a continuar. Sugo a glande gorda, e vejo como Harry começa a perder o controle. Ele respira fora de ritmo e aperta o lençol entre os dedos.
— Tira isso. — Peço apontando para a camiseta branca que cobre seu peito. — Quero ver você.
Ele me obedece rápido, jogando a peça pelo ombro, me dando a visão privilegiada de seu peito, ombros e barriga. Os músculos estão tensos.
O levo até a boca mais uma vez, mas agora indo um pouco mais fundo. Harry solta um palavrão quando sente minha garganta. Não sei exatamente o ritmo que deveria estabelecer, então o chupo de forma lenta, saboreando seu gosto.
Styles leva uma das mãos até meu cabelo, enrolando em volta do pulso e me fazendo aumentar o ritmo. Seus olhos têm um brilho que eu nunca havia visto, mas estava adorando. Os lábios cheios estavam entreabertos, soltando gemidos, as sobrancelhas franzidas e uma camada fina de suor começava a se formar em sua testa.
Sinto quando ele fica ainda mais duro em minha boca, seu gosto ficando mais forte, misturado a minha saliva que escorre para fora.
— Para. — Disse, me afastando, me deixando confusa mais uma vez.
— Achei que estivesse gostando. — Sussurrei.
— Ah, eu estava adorando. — Falou com a respiração desregulada. — Mas agora, eu preciso foder você. — Me puxou pelos braços para a cama.
Um frio na barriga me atingiu. Harry nunca havia falado de forma tão explícita, e isso me fez escorrer ainda mais.
Ele parecia outra pessoa, completamente dominado pelo desejo.
Empurrando meu corpo pelo colchão, as mãos ágeis arrancando meu conjunto de pijama e a calcinha antes que eu pudesse sequer pensar em fazê-lo. Então ele me empurra mais uma fez, fazendo ajoelhar em frente a cabeceira da cama, colocando minhas mãos ali como apoio. Sinto o calor de seu corpo em minhas costas, mesmo que ele não me toque.
— Me avise se for demais. — Sussurra em meu ouvido, deixando um beijinho em meu ombro.
Um arrepio percorre minha pele com a promessa silenciosa da melhor transa da minha vida.
Harry leva a mão até minha cintura, me fazendo empinar em sua direção. Ele me provoca, esfregando a glande em minha entrada. Empino mais e resmungo, fazendo-o soltar uma risadinha rouca.
Estou pronta para xingá-lo pela provocação, quando sinto seu membro me preencher por inteiro de uma vez. Solto um grito, minhas paredes o apertam e eu solto a cabeça para a frente. Ele fica alguns segundos parado, para que eu me recupere da surpresa, mas então começa a investir com violência.
Sua pele bate contra a minha, causando estalos tão altos quanto os nossos gemidos. Uma das mãos segura meu seio, brincando com o meu mamilo entre os dedos.
— Você é tão gostosa, bebê. — Sussurra, a voz rouca como nunca antes. — Você desperta um lado meu que eu não sabia que existia.
— Qual? — Pergunto com dificuldade. Ele mantém o ritmo alucinante, fazendo minhas pernas tremerem.
— O pervertido. Porra, eu quero estar dentro de você o tempo todo. — Confessa. — Eu chego a sonhar com você, S\N. Te comendo em todas as posições possíveis.
— Haz. — Gemo e ele afunda ainda mais os dedos em minha cintura.
— Eu tento me segurar ao seu lado, mas, porra, você é tão boa, amor. — Deixa beijos em meu pescoço. — Eu poderia te foder todos os dias pelo resto da vida, e mesmo assim sempre vou querer mais. O que fez comigo, garota? — Viro o rosto, para deixar um beijo em seus lábios.
Suas palavras obscenas, o ritmo enlouquecedor, as mãos em meu corpo, é tudo demais para aguentar. Me desmancho em seu corpo, gemendo seu nome alto e sinto quando Styles perde o restinho do controle, investindo ainda mais forte e gozando tão forte que uma parte escapa, pingando pela cama.
Sentamos na cama, completamente exaustos e saciados.
— Posso realizar seus sonhos sempre que quiser. — Falo, tentando esconder o sorriso que se forma em meus lábios.
— Vou contar com isso.
Louis
Duas semanas de repouso absoluto. Com exceção apenas de idade ao banheiro e com ajuda.
Essas eram as exatas palavras do médico após a lesão grave do meu namorado.
Fiquei completamente desesperada quando Lottie me ligou em uma noite qualquer para avisar que Louis havia se machucado durante o ensaio e eles estavam no hospital.
Os primeiros dias foram tranquilos, o o homem estava adorando ser "mimado". Mas foi no momento em que neguei sua primeira investida, lembrando que ele estava proibido de fazer esforços físicos que meu calvário começou.
Mesmo precisando ficar quase 24h em cima da cama, Tomlinson parecia estar subindo pelas paredes. E era difícil demais negá-lo quando eu também estava sedenta.
Ele fazia questão de fazer carinhos cheios de mãos bobas durante a madrugada, me provocar com beijos quentes demais e depois ficava frustados quando eu fugia para um banho frio.
A noite estava quente em Londres, e eu decidi dormir com minha camisola mais confortável. Saí do banho já pronta para deitar e vi como os azuis se ergueram do celular quando saí do banheiro.
— Puta que pariu, você quer me matar. — Pronunciou alto. A perna engessada permanecia na pequena torre de travesseiros, me lembrando que eu não podia ceder.
— Você já me viu com isso um monte de vezes, amor. — Lembrei.
— E em todas elas eu fiz questão de tirar! — Disse em puro desespero.
— Quer que eu troque?
— Eu quero que você venha aqui e me deixe te foder. — Caminhei até a cama, deixando um beijinho em seus lábios.
— Só mais uma semana, amor. — Prometi.
— Eu vou morrer até lá! — Bufou, afundando a cabeça no travesseiro.
— Quanto exagero. — Falei rindo.
— Exagero? Você sai desse banheiro com uma camisola minúscula, com esse corpo delicioso e espera que eu faça o que?
— Durma.
— Você me odeia. — Disse em uma expressão fechada, quase me fazendo rir.
— Você sabe que eu te amo.
— Se me amasse mesmo, me ajudaria com isso. — Um sorriso sacana se abriu em seus lábios quando ele pegou em meu pulso e largou minha mão sobre seu membro endurecido. Um arrepio percorreu minha coluna. — Preciso tanto de você, love. — Sussurrou, me fazendo fechar os olhos.
— Não, o médico disse...
— Que eu não posso fazer esforço físico. — Repetiu revirando os olhos. — Mas ele não disse nada sobre a mão e a boca da minha namorada deliciosa. — Sugeriu.
— Eu não sei...
— Prometo ficar quietinho. — Fez um beicinho.
Apertei seu pau sobre a cueca, fazendo-o soltar um gemido estrangulado. Já me sentia quente, estava louca por ele. Éramos um casal com a vida sexual extremamente ativa, um cenário onde passamos mais do que três dias sem sexo era improvável até agora.
— Promete?
— Prometo, amor. — Balançou a cabeça rápido.
Empurrei a cueca preta para baixo, vendo como seu pau pulou para fora e sentindo minha boca salivar.
Deixei alguns beijinhos por sua extensão, ouvindo suas lamúrias. Me sentia completamente quente com tudo aquilo. Engoli o máximo que consegui, usando minha mão para acariciar o resto.
— Me deixa te tocar, linda. — Sussurrou.
Tomando cuidado para me mover na cama sem mover sua perna machucada, ajoelhei próximo ao seu tronco, voltando a engolir seu membro. Louis soltou alguns gemidos, a mão grande erguendo minha camisola e se enchendo com a pele da minha bunda, logo depois deixando um tapa ardido, o que me faz gemer contra a sua pele. Ele empurra a cintura para cima, querendo ir mais fundo.
— Quieto. — Aviso, me afastando apenas o suficiente para conseguir falar.
Louis murmura algo em concordância, e então afasta o tecido da minha calcinha o suficiente para ter acesso à minha intimidade. Seus dedos separam minha carne, subindo e descendo devagarzinho. Solto o ar pelo nariz, com a boca cheia dele. Dois dedos me preenchem, indo fundo, lentamente, de forma torturante e deliciosa.
— Sua boceta é tão linda, amor. — Sussurra, me fazendo empinar ainda mais em sua direção. — Por quê não senta em mim, hum? — Viro para olhá-lo.
— Por mais que eu queira, isso pode machucar a sua perna. — Lamento.
— Foda-se isso, amor. Eu preciso de você. — Resmunga, manhoso.
— Lou…
— Se você não sentar no meu pau agora, eu juro que arranco esse gesso e te fodo sem dó. — Sua voz é firme, o tesão estampado em seu rosto deixa claro que ele fala sério.
— Você precisa ficar bem paradinho. — Avisei, passando as pernas em sua cintura.
— Anda logo! — Bufa, quase me fazendo rir.
Posiciono seu membro em minha entrada, nosso encaixe perfeito.
Não quero perder o controle. Não posso.
Mas, porra…
Tê-lo dentro de mim é bom demais.
Me movo lentamente, tomando o maior cuidado do mundo. Mas não parece o suficiente para Louis. Ele segura minha cintura, me fazendo subir e descer mais rápido. Tento reclamar, com medo de piorar sua situação, mas um tapa forte em minha bunda me cala.
Reviro os olhos, sentindo quando ele ignora completamente as ordens médicas e começa a investir contra mim.
— Porra, que saudade. — Ele fala com dificuldade. Seguro seus ombros com força, tentando controlar pelo menos um pouco a situação. Louis espalma as mãos em minha bunda, fazendo minha cintura ir para a frente e para trás.
Nossos movimentos se tornam ainda mais rápidos, a cama range e por um momento, não consigo pensar em seu ferimento.
Tomlinson ergue o tronco, atacando meus lábios. Castigando-os com os dentes e chupões fortes. Enlaço seu pescoço, sentindo o orgasmo me atingir. Ele geme alto contra a minha boca, chamando meu nome alto e me preenchendo com força uma última vez.
Respiramos fora de ritmo, trocando alguns selinhos já mais calmos.
Saio de seu colo, sentindo meu corpo exausto.
— Você está bem? — Pergunto, ficando preocupada de repente.
— Estou ótimo. — Sobra a resposta, com um sorriso vitorioso em seus lábios.
Sinopse: S/N e Harry não estão mais funcionando juntos porém a dor de ficarem separados mexe com sentimentos do casal, fazendo-os questionar se realmente forma feitos para serem amor um do outro, para todo sempre.
N/A: preparem os lencinhos 🤧
Embora não quisesse, sabia que a hora tinha chego. Desde sua mensagem as três da tarde, eu sabia que não adiaria mais o que acontece entre a gente. Eu sei, perdemos o brilho. Apagamos a chama da paixão de alguma forma que eu não sei explicar. Deixamos que o sentimento mais puro que sentíamos fosse embora. Nos esquecemos do porquê um dia decidimos ficar juntos. Digo no plural porque sei que não foi você que errou, e muito menos eu. Fomos nós que erramos. Assim como o relacionamento funciona com duas pessoas, o fim dele também é fruto dos atos e atitudes dessas duas mesmas pessoas. Apontar os erros agora não vem ao caso. Não quero mais brigar, nem mesmo uma discussão pequena. Não quero que nossa última memória juntos seja entre xingamentos e falta de respeito. O que aconteceu não tem mais conserto, e nós dois sabemos disso. Estou escrevendo porque não consigo expressar nem um por cento do que eu gostaria olhando diretamente para você sem chorar. Dizer que não te amo seria a maior mentira do mundo, que eu nunca irei mencionar. Eu te amo. Mas você entende que se continuarmos a mentira vai virar verdade, e eu não quero que isso aconteça. Então por favor, não venha atrás de mim pedindo para ‘nos dar mais uma chance’, porque eu não consigo, e você também não. Venha até o quarto e me dê apenas um abraço. Daqueles fortes, para que a gente tenha força de seguir em frente. E por favor, eu te imploro Harry, não tire a caixinha que você tem no bolso. Seria demais pra mim, do fundo do meu coração. Se ainda me ama, deixe tudo como está.
Os olhos esverdeados dele estavam completamente marejados. Os lábios trêmulos e comprimidos um no outro demonstrava que a vontade de chorar alto era contida de todas as formas. E ele só se sentia assim porque sabia que não poderia fazer absolutamente nada agora.
Em silêncio o rapaz deixou a folha de caderno escrita a mão sobre a mesa de jantar, olhou para o teto, respirou fundo, levou as mãos até os olhos e pressionou a fim de cessar as lágrimas teimosas. Ação totalmente em vão. Seguido de um suspiro de coragem Styles caminhou até o quarto e se deparou com S/N em um estado semelhante ao dele.
Ela, sentada na beira da cama, com a cabeça virada para a porta, rosto inchado de tanto chorar e olhos vermelhos. Inteiramente triste, algo perceptível até para quem não enxerga. No segundo seguinte que se entreolharam os dois desviaram o olhar. Ele virou para o lado esquerdo, parede do corredor preenchida por quadros do casal, segurando o choro entalado que se tornou dificílimo de ignorar. Ela direcionou a visão para baixo, levando os dedos da mão direita sobre os olhos, permitindo-se chorar quase que escondido. Era uma forma de se sentir protegida.
Harry não queria chegar perto dela. Tudo porque sabia que seria o último contato, o último abraço, o último beijo. O que ele um dia temeu estava acontecendo.
S/N por sua vez esperava que ele viesse. Ela queria senti-lo, inspirar seu perfume, tocar em sua pele, escutar a sua voz, nem que fosse pela última vez.
E lá foi ele, devagar, apreensivo, com medo do passo seguinte e desacreditado naquele cenário catastrófico.
Harry agachou-se para que S/N, ainda de cabeça baixa, soubesse que ele estava ali, olhando para ela e pronto para a enxurrada de sentimentos. Quando os olhos finalmente se encontraram, as almas sentiram um certo alívio e o desejo do abraço foi inevitável, assim como a atitude. Ambos puxaram-se no mesmo instante e aconchegara-se nos braços um do outro. Lágrimas correram. A dor era sentida no ar, e precisava ser assim. Permaneceram assim por quase cinco minutos, sentados no chão e unidos pelo calor humano até que a primeira pergunta foi feita.
- Como sabia da aliança? - a voz rouca e chorosa de Harry saiu baixa mas suficiente para S/N escutar e relembrar do que havia escrito horas atrás.
- Vi você colocando no bolso hoje de manhã. - respondeu mais calma, limpando os olhos molhados a medida que se separaram do abraço.
- Me deixa te mostrar pelo menos. - as mãos de Styles foram até o bolso da calça jeans mas pararam imediatamente quando ela esbravejou.
- Não torne isso mais difícil. - ele bufou, deixando o choro escapar pela boca e então o desespero de fato bateu. - Eu não posso casar com você, Harry.
- Mas e se..
- Não tem ‘e se’. - interrompeu com a voz falha. - Isso não existe na nossa conjuntura. E você sabe que também não pode se casar comigo.
- A gente tem uma história, S/A..
- Harry.. por favor.. - o choro retorna. Ela sabia o que ele diria pois já ouviu inúmeras vezes. E mesmo assim a de hoje estava sendo de longe a mais difícil de escutar.
- Eu te amo..
- O que você quis dizer com aquela mensagem? - S/N simplesmente não deu ouvidos a declaração e resolveu ser prática, deixando Styles sem palavras e fazendo-o fechar os olhos. - O que aquele ‘precisamos nos resolver de uma vez por todas’ significa?
- Longe de você eu consigo ter a coragem que perto eu nem imagino tentar.
- E foi exatamente por essa razão que eu escrevi aquela carta. Perto de você eu não tenho forças para te querer longe.
- Então você tem noção do quão sem sentido é isso? - ela assentiu. - Longe visualizamos o que queremos e perto não conseguimos nos separar! É uma dor incontrolável!
- Eu sei.. - choramingou, engolindo o choro. - Mas você também concorda que não podemos mascarar a merda que estamos vivendo com um casamento e pensar que viveremos feliz para sempre depois disso? - demorou, mas dessa vez foi ele quem concordou. - Então.. não vamos complicar o que já está impossível de resolver. - S/N juntou suas mãos nas dele e apertou firme com o intuito do moreno olhar para ela. - Vamos recomeçar novamente, mas dessa vez separados, tudo bem? - ele fez que não com a cabeça e voltou a chorar, puxando-a para outro abraço, dessa vez com ela deitada em seu peito. - Não podemos nos amar na escuridão, bae.. - a garota falou em meio a soluços, sentindo o peito rasgar enquanto sentia o aroma preferido daquele que o machucava.
- Você vai, pra sempre, ser o amor da minha vida.
- E você o meu, babe.. mas infelizmente tem diferença em ser o amor da sua vida e ser o amor para sua vida. - ela olhou para ele, ainda perto um do outro e deu uma pausa, respirando fundo e tentando encontrar o brilho naqueles pontos de esmeralda que hoje estavam caídos e sem qualquer esperança de melhora. Mesmo assim, S/N foi forte, tanto para ela quanto para ele, e disse a frase que nunca, em hipótese alguma Styles esqueceu. - E eu não sou o amor para a sua vida, Harry.. assim como você também não é para a minha.
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Feedbacks são sempre bem-vindos e de extrema importância para quem escreve. Se possível, não esqueça de deixar um comentário sobre o conteúdo lido acima na ask! Adoraria saber o que achou :)
Olá, tudo bem? tô sumida como sempre, mas é por causa do meu bloqueio criativo.
não gosto de nada do que escrevo e ando bem insegura com isso :( por isso, demoro tanto para aparecer por aqui.
peço desculpas a quem me acompanha.
os pedidos estão atrasados, mas eu juro que vou terminar de escreve-los e irei postar.
espero que esse imagine esteja no mínimo bom e que vocês gostem!
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"I want you to know that I'm never leaving
'Cause I'm Mrs. Snow till death we'll be freezing
Yeah, you are my home, my home for all seasons so come on, let's go."
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Ser mãe foi a melhor coisa que aconteceu em minha vida.
Quando segurei aquele teste com os dois riscos brilhando na tela, senti o mundo a minha volta desabar. Confesso que no começo não era o meu sonho de vida.
Eu estava na faculdade, em um ótimo estágio, no ápice de meu casamento, naquela fase da lua de mel, sabe ? Mas então, depois de uma rapidinha na cozinha, percebemos que não havíamos usado preservativo.
Mesmo com a pílula do dia seguinte os enjôos, o atraso menstrual, tonturas e etc, se fizeram presentes em meu dia a dia.
Com o passar dos meses tudo foi melhorando.
Claro, que no começo não é fácil ver a mudança do corpo, o humor instável, os desejos, os medos e insegurança, aos poucos vão no sufocando. Mas tudo era esquecido quando eu pousava minha mão sobre a elevação de minha barriga, e sentia que ali crescia o fruto do meu amor com o Harry.
Até chegar o momento mais esperado; o parto.
Não vou romantizar as dores que passei e dizer que foi fácil e maravilhoso, porque não foi. Entretanto, não me arrependo. Passaria por tudo novamente.
Parece que foi ontem que eu vi Liz nascer.
Ouvir aquele choro estridente foi o melhor minuto da minha vida. Nunca vou esquecer e jamais me arrepender de ser mãe.
Harry, chorou muito, mais do que eu. Segurou minha mão todo o tempo, mesmo que eu a apertasse com toda minha força, tentando aliviar de alguma forma a estridente dor de parto. Só soltou minha mão para segurar nossa bebê, que a partir daquele momento se tornou o nosso mundo.
A garotinha de cachos um pouco claros, olhos verdes cintilantes, extremamente dengosa e manhosa, conquistou à todos. Principalmente o pai.
E agora, estou aqui fechando o grosso casaco de frio, e sentindo o vapor de água sair por meus lábios a cada palavra proferida por mim.
- Você tem certeza, Hazz? - Segurei o pequeno corpo com mais força, e abaixei a touca rosa em sua cabeça.
- Tenho, _____. - Revirou os olhos, se divertindo com a minha preocupação. - Já está mais do que na hora da Liz, se divertir um pouco. - Estendeu os braços na direção de nossa filha, que no momento, estava um pouco acanhada.
Suspirei, concordando com a situação.
- Bebê, vamos brincar, hum? - Beijei seu rosto delicado.
Hoje está um dia excepcionalmente frio.
Mesmo que o solo esteja repleto de neve, os raios de sol nos ajudam a aliviar o clima gélido.
Por mim, eu estaria deitada em minha cama com a minha família. Entretanto, Harry, teve a brilhante ideia de levar Liz, para brincar na neve pela primeira vez. Obviamente, eu relutei muito, mas ao ver a minha pequena toda agasalhada, eu concordei.
Harry, pegou a garotinha de apenas 2 anos em seu colo e saiu andando sem preocupações. Se sentou no chão branco de pura neve de fim do inverno, e fez uma pequena bolinha com as mãos.
- Pegue, Liz. - Estendeu as mãos.
- Flio. - A chupeta rosa se movimentou junto com seus lábios.
- Eu sei, meu amor...- Seu tom estava calmo. - Mas você precisa dar uma chance. - Colocou Liz de pé.
As botas com as asas de borboletas roxas, que eu fui coagida a comprar pelo par de olhos verdes mirim, afundou um pouco sobre a camada fina de neve. Suas pernas faziam um pequeno esforço para andar e meu marido parecia se divertir com a cena.
Em tempos de inverno, o condomínio fica extremamente quieto e deserto. Ninguém sai de casa. Nossos vizinhos estavam todos dentro de casa, aparentemente. Uma ou outra pessoa passava pela calçada, mas sem sinal de qualquer outra movimentação. O condomínio onde moramos é muito calmo e seguro, minha família é a mais agitada. Sempre fazemos festas de aniversário e jantares entre amigos, claro que, nada que atrapalhe a vizinhança.
Voltei minha atenção as duas pessoas de temperamento difícil. Meu marido tentava convencer nossa filha a arremessar bolas de neve, que apenas encarava com
- Olha só, joga no papai! - Colocou uma bolinha de neve sobre o par de luvas rosa.
Harry, se levantou e saiu "correndo" numa velocidade bem baixa para que Liz, conseguisse acompanhar. Antes mesmo de conseguir arremessar, a neve se desfez em sua mão e caiu sobre o chão.
Ajeitei meu cachecol sobre o pescoço e me aproximei de minha filha. Peguei uma grande quantidade de leve e a modelei da maneira que consegui.
- Vou te mostrar como se faz...- Ajeitei minha perna numa posição confortável para meu arremesso.
- Você não ousaria. - Harry, fez um olhar assustador.
- Não vai conseguir me intimidar! - Liz, nos olhava atentamente. - Vamos, bebê. Vamos vencer o papai! - Com suas adoráveis mãozinhas cobertas por um par de luvas, pegou um punhado de neve e fez uma careta sapeca.
- Traidoras! - Jogamos a neve sobre Harry, que fingiu se machucar. - Não vou deixar isso barato. Vou roubar seu bem mais precioso!
- Não papai! - Se escondeu atrás da minha perna e logo começou a correr de Harry.
Começamos uma pequena batalha de neve.
A risada de bebê estava audível por todo o quintal. Meu coração falhava a cada som que entrava por meus ouvidos.
Como eu amo esse som!
Liz, havia adorado brincar aqui fora, e eu, só sabia admirar a cena dos meus dois amores se divertindo.
Andei pelo jardim vendo minhas árvores e plantas sem nenhuma folha ou flor. Arrumei algumas coisas que estavam fora do lugar e reorganizei alguns vasos. Depois de alguns minutos cheguei a um bom resultado.
Eu voltei para perto de Harry e Liz, observando os dois sentados plenamente concentrados em suas esculturas de gelo. Pisei em um galho de árvore seca, o que acabou chamando atenção de Harry que apenas virou sua cabeça em minha direção.
- Pega uma cenoura lá dentro, amor? E duas azeitonas pretas e um botão! - Me olhou por breves segundos, o necessário para eu roubar um selinho de seus lábios. - Por favor.
- É muito estranho te ouvir pedir por azeitonas. - Uma careta se formou no rosto de Harry. - Foi quase uma guerra te convencer a compra-las.
- Eu realmente as detesto. - Nos beijamos novamente, um pouco mais demorado dessa vez.
- Mamãe... - O descontentamento na voz de Liz, é totalmente perceptível. Ela tinha um pouco de ciúmes de mim e não gosta de ver nossos beijos. Nem sempre conseguíamos nos segurar e lutar contra a vontade de um único selar.
- Okay, okay, já volto. - Acariciei seus fios longos e incrivelmente sedosos. - Bebê, quer vir me ajudar? - Coloquei as mãos na cintura.
- Não mamãe. - Continuou a brincar. - Quelo fica. - Seus cachinhos se mexiam levemente contra o vento.
É incrível a semelhança de Harry e Liz.
Eu na verdade, só emprestei meu útero.
Ri um pouco de meus pensamentos e fui em direção a minha casa. Me sentindo acolhida pelo calor do aquecedor. Depois de entrar não tive vontade de retornar, mas eu não tenho muitas escolhas por aqui.
A sala está repleta de brinquedos espalhados, desde a escada, até a porta da cozinha. Fui desviando dos objetos no chão, abismada com toda a bagunça que Harry e Liz, tinham feito pela casa.
Procurei o que me foi pedido por Harry, os botões foram a parte mais difícil. Espero que ele não se importe pelo fato de eu ter arrancado os botões de sua camisa social. Encontrei uma cenoura bem laranja e bonita e um pote de azeitonas perdido na geladeira.
Tirei alguns fios que ainda estavam nos botões e tomei coragem para encarar o frio novamente. Esfreguei as luvas, tentando de alguma força aliviar um pouco da sensação gelada.
- Aqui está. - Coloquei tudo sobre o colo de meu marido. - Você vai fazer um boneco de neve?
- Nós vamos. - Me ajoelhei ao seu lado e juntei uma grande bola de neve.
O boneco estava um pouco torto, mas Liz, estava completamente encantada.
- cenoula, papai! - Sem muito esforço, Harry, a levantou na altura do rosto do nosso boneco e com um pouco de força, Liz, espetou o legume laranja.
Demoramos um pouco para terminar, já que, meu marido tentava a todo instante me beijar ou abraçar, impedindo meus movimentos. Tirei o cachecol de meu pescoço e o enrolei gentilmente sobre a neve enrolada a minha frente.
- Onde encontrou tantos botões? - Me abraçou por trás e senti seu hálito quente bater em minha nuca.
- Isso não importa, amor. - Fiz um breve carinho em seus braços tentando desconversar. - Vamos terminar de montar o sorriso.
Deixamos nossa filha colocar o último botão e nos afastamos para admirar nosso trabalho.
- Está perfeito! - Os olhos verdes de Harry, brilhavam.
Ele iria chorar.
- Amor...- Passei minha mão por suas costas. - Não precisa chorar.
- Eu amo tanto vocês. - Segurou meu rosto com as duas mãos. - Beijinho de eskimo... - Esfregou seus lábios nos meus.
- Gelado. - Confesso quando nos encaramos. - Te amo. - Um estalo parece ter surgido em sua cabeça.
- Eu esqueci do clássico! - Se afastou bruscamente. - Temos que fazer um anjo na neve! - Se deitou no chão. - Venha filha! - Balançou os braços e pernas.
Me sentei observando toda a cena, e a falha tentativa de uma criança de 2 anos em ter a mesma coordenação do pai.
- O seu anjinho de neve, está mais para assassinato na neve. - A cena era impagável, eu poderia dizer que aquilo no chão fosse qualquer coisa, menos um anjo.
- Não ria de mim, sua danadinha. - Puxou meu braço e cai deitada sobre seu corpo. - Você é tão bonita desse ângulo.
- Eu sou bonita de qualquer jeito. - Sorri convencida.
- É mesmo, mas a visão de você por cima é impagável. - Minhas bochechas não ficaram vermelhas pelo frio.
- Bobo.
Minha pequena ainda estava deitada na neve, totalmente alheia a nossa conversa.
- Não tenho culpa se você exala sensualidade. - Levantei minha sobrancelha.
- Posso apostar que minhas vestes atuais não são as mais favoráveis a sua afirmação. - Nosso lábios estavam quase se encostando. A ponta de seu nariz me causava pequenos arrepios.
- Vamos entrar e fazer um amorzinho bem gostoso em baixo das cobertas, hum...? - Beijou minha bochecha.
- E a Liz? - Pergunto num fio de voz.
- Depois do banho ela vai dormir à tarde toda. - Circulou minha cintura com seus braços.
- Não sei, não Hazz. - Desviei o olhar tentando não sorrir. - Estou tão cansada...- Bocejei falsamente.
- Que tal, uma banheira com água bem quente, vinho, massagens e muito amor?
- Hum, é bem tentador, admito. - Fiz um breve carinho por seus rosto.
- Você vai cantar para mim? - Susurrei em seu ouvido. - Enquanto massageia meus ombros? - Mordi seu lóbulo direito. - Hum?
- Tudo o que você quiser. - Hazz, levantou a cabeça para me beijar. Coloquei meu dedo indicador sobre seus lábios interrompendo sua ação.
- Eu vou dar um banho quente na Liz, e você - Apontei em sua direção me levantando. - Vai arrumar toda a bagunça que fez com a sua filha. Só depois vamos pensar em fazer alguma coisa.
- Chata.
Ignorei totalmente sua fala e tirei o excesso de neve de meu casaco com as mãos.
- Filha vamos entrar e tomar um banho. - Peguei em sua mãozinha. - E também preparar um chocolate quente.
- Eba!
- E eu, _____? - Harry, cruzou os braços e seu semblante estava bem sério.
- Para você? eu estava pensando em te dar um chá bem quente. - Entrei dentro de casa deixando o boneco de neve e meu marido para trás.
- Vou arrumar a sala em 2 minutos, me espere lá em cima! - Harry, passou por mim como um raio.
Neguei com a cabeça, rindo.
- Gostou de brincar na neve, bebê?
- Si, mamãe. - O sorriso em seu rosto era gigante, mostrando todos os seus dentinhos brancos e pequenos. Suas botas faziam barulho quando tocavam o chão da entrada.
Hazz, estava agachado pegando os brinquedos espalhados, enquanto cantarolava 'snowman' da Sia. Sua doce voz deixava a canção mais melodiosa.
Liz, correu até o pai e tentou pular em suas costas. A caixa de brinquedos que já estava quase cheia em alguns segundos já se encontravam no chão novamente. Os dois corriam, pulavam e riam por toda a sala. Fui até a cozinhar preparar algumas canecas de chocolate, pois o chá ficaria para mais tarde.
tradução
Eu quero que você saiba que eu nunca vou te deixar
Porque eu sou Sra. Neve até que a morte me congele
Yeah, Você é minha casa, minha casa por todas temporadas
The room is silent while everyone stares at Harry and me, waiting for answers, answers that I do not want to give. I don’t want any of this. My heart continues to beat rapidly with every silent moment that passes and I swear for a moment, I stop breathing.
One, Two, Three, Four… I’m still breathing… Barely.
Now is the time I require Harry to say something, anything. I need him to break the silence and tell me that this is all some misunderstanding.
I don’t think Harry is going to want to stay married to me after this. I might win the world's shortest marriage, all because he has now been thrown into being a King, literally.
“It can’t be your bodyguard, that’s ludicrous. It’s the man you’re dating and soon to marry, Henry. Although I did read somewhere you’re dating Louis.”
“Oh, fuck,” Harry mutters under his breath. Finally speaking. “Christ, Anna.”
Of all the things to say, he could have come up with something better, but I’m not sure what I expected him to say. Harry cannot fix this or change things.
“I’m already married,” I shake my head, “I married Harry, so all your previous scheming didn’t work. Harry is legally the King, not Henry.” I notify everybody who’s gawking at me, my hand reaching for my necklace that has my rings attached to it, “If you need the wedding certificate, it was signed just a few hours ago. Ink hasn’t even dried.”
I glance towards my mother who has tears in her eyes, “I’m sorry, I had no choice… we had no choice but to hide it. Dad wouldn’t listen and kept pushing Henry.”
My mother shakes her head, “He was right.”
“What?”
“Your father… He said you two were in love but I thought it was just a fling.” My mother begins to chuckle, “You two got married behind our backs? I’m proud. You chose love over the monarchy, and it all backfired on them.” She proceeds to laugh, “You and your father played the monarchy and it’s about fucking time.”
“Mum… are you okay?” I question, unsure of whether this is a defence mechanism or not. How can she be laughing? Her husband just died and she just found out her only daughter got married behind her back. This is not a laughing matter. I find none of this entertaining.
“How are you married? You’re meant to be with Henry.” The man interrupts.
“Oh, take a hike Georgie. Face it, they’re married, Harry is King and Henry is still nothing but a Prince at the bottom of the food chain whose family killed my husband.”
“It’s George,” Georgie corrects my mother, “I don’t understand…”
“Let me make it clear, my husband is Harry, not Henry. Now please, can you all leave? My father just died and I’d like some peace.” … “Harry, sign the papers so Georgie can leave and you can escort Henry out.” I hand Harry the envelope with papers that need signing.
“Uhm,” Harry hums, “Darling, I’m not signing the papers to be King.” Harry shakes his head, declining to take the papers from my hands.
I do not blame him, the role of King is not something to take lightly and to have it thrown at you is a whole other level of crazy.
“Sign the damn things, Harold.” My mother commands persistently and harshly, taking us all by surprise with her voice like booming thunder.
“Yes, ma’am,” Harry immediately responds, “But, it’s Harry.” He politely corrects her.
“Don’t sign those papers and it’ll be Harold. Believe me, I can make sure everybody calls you Harold.” my mother threatens and Harry glances around as he clears his throat.
Harry takes the pen from George and scribbles his signature across the dotted line, “Does this mean Henry has to bow down to me?” Harry questions with a smirk, somewhat amused, suddenly.
“Technically, we all do,” I respond, shoving the papers towards George and smiling at Henry as he stands speechless. “Now… I’d like to go home, please, Harry.”
When I say ‘home’ I’m not quite sure where it is I want to go, the Palace isn’t home, and as I think of things, I don’t have a foundation for where home truly is. It’s not the Palaces or the extravagant estates that the royals own, it’s unknown. I don’t know where home is, I don’t know where I want to truly go, all I know is I want to go anywhere with Harry.
“We can find a hotel,” Harry nods, taking a quick glance at his watch.
“No, I want to go home, like fly home, take me anywhere but here.”
“You two can’t fly together,” Louis comments, interrupting my request.
I raise a brow and side-eye him, unsure of what he’s talking about.
“If something happens to Harry, you become Queen. Two heirs cannot fly together.”
“Louis, all due respect, but I’m not flying alone. I don’t care if he’s King or not, I want to go home with Harry.” My response is bitter and harsh, and to be honest, I don’t give a damn.
I want to go home, I am not sure where home truly is, but I want to go where the sheets are soft and have a familiar scent of clean linens, I want to go where things are calm and collected, I want to go where I can breathe. I want to go anywhere but here.
♛ ♛ ♛
I draw the covers away from Harry’s warm body and I begin to shake him awake, “What? What’s wrong?” He hastily mumbles, his eyes opening, his hand reaching to the side table as he sits up.
“Don’t,” I stop his hand from grabbing his pistol, “It’s time to get up,” I instruct.
Harry rubs the sleep from his eyes before glancing over at the clock that blinks with the time, “It’s four in the morning, baby, what’s wrong? We just fell asleep”
“We have things to do. I have to communicate the news to the governments of the fifteen other countries of which the King was the head of state and to the governments of the other countries of the,” I inform Harry of the task that I have on my mind.
There’s no time nor need to sleep when so much needs to be done. “I have to tell A footman to pin a dark-edged notice to the gates of Buckingham Palace and—”
“Anna, darling,” Harry cuts me off swiftly, “You don’t have to do all that, there are people who do it.”
I shake my head, ignoring his comment, “The day after the King’s death, the meet at to proclaim the new monarch. We have to prep you for it. Parliament meets tomorrow evening and they to the new monarch, which is you.”
“Go back to sleep, Anastasia,” Harry instructs, stretching the sheets and the blankets back over his body.
I gaze at him and shake my head, my hand reaching for the covers and hauling them back off of him. Harry wearily sighs, “Anastasia, I am not the King, I am not meeting parliament, and you don’t need to be taking care of all these things, you need some rest.”
“Don’t tell me what I need,” I bluntly respond, “Are you going to help me or are you going to go back to bed?”
Harry shakes his head and encompasses his fingers through his hair, “I have no choice,” he tiredly responds, “Let me put some clothes on… I don’t know what you plan to do at four in the morning but I’ll support you,” Harry responds, slowly forcing himself off and out of the bed.
“My Dad will be here at six.”
“Excuse me?” Harry questions, reaching for a long sleeve shirt to match with his sweatpants.
“He is being bought by to and then by car to Buckingham Palace.”
“I’m not trying to sound intensive but… He’s staying here?” Harry questions, seeming at a loss for what I am talking about.
I nod my head. I’m not sure where else Harry thought my Dad would be staying.
“Oh,” Harry trails off as he shakes his head, a clear indication he has thoughts but he is not going to speak them out loud.
“You need to stop reaching for the pistol every time I wake you up,” I comment, turning a small lamp on so I can make my way around the room.
Harry just shakes his head and mutters under his breath as he adjusts his sweater with a grunt, clearly displeased and far from settled.
♛
The palace is relatively tranquil at this hour, most of the staff are in the kitchen or laundry beginning the preparations for the day, and everyone else is more than likely asleep. The Palace at this hour is always a calming time, there isn’t much of a hurry and bustle, things are at a slower pace for the most part, and the Palace is nice and quiet besides the small chatter of the Palace staff.
Harry trudges beside me, his arm around my waist as we wander the hallways of the Palace. I’m not quite sure what my first task is that I need to do, but I’ll figure that out when I get downstairs to the main floor. “I don’t want any tours held, can you make sure there are no public tours?”
Harry nods his head, “Whatever you need me to do.”
“I don’t want you on security.”
“Mmm, I’m going to be on security,” Harry responds without missing a beat, “That’s not changing. Security is heightened, I’m not stepping down or taking any sort of leave of absence, sorry.” Harry responds with everything but a sincere apology.
“But—“
“No, Anna,” Harry interrupts me firmly, his tone of voice a strong indication he doesn’t want to discuss the subject any further.
“I don’t want what happened to my Dad to happen to you.”
“Anastasia, darling, I will be fine, Matthew and I have set in motion what will happen for the next few weeks.”
“What is that?”
Harry sighs and stops walking. He turns to face me, “We all wear vests for public outings or announcements, there’s a strict code, there will be more security on the grounds. You will always be watched.”
“Oh, great,” I roll my eyes, “I’ll have no privacy.” I huff.
“You will be on my service for the most part.”
“Is that meant to make me feel better?” I bitterly question, unsure of his purpose with his comment.
“Are you looking for an argument at this hour?” Harry questions and raises a brow towards me. Before I can respond, he sighs and leans closer to me, kissing my lips lightly, “I love you, but I need coffee so I’m not a dick.”
“Coffee doesn’t always change that, ya know?” I half-smile at him in a joking manner, “I love you, too. My comment was mean, I know being on your service is better than nothing.”
Harry nods his head, “If you don’t want to be on my service—“ Harry begins.
I instantly cut him off, “I want to be with you. I don’t want anyone else this week.” I inform him.
I don’t want anybody else on my service mainly because I know deep down this week is going to be one of the hardest. The next twelve days will be rough and I want to have the comfort of knowing Harry is there at all hours for me. I don’t anticipate a breakdown or to entirely lose myself, I plan to keep myself occupied and get everything done, but it gives me peace of mind to know he’s there as both my husband and security guard.
Harry doesn’t say a word, he simply nods and we continue to walk the palace, making our way towards the kitchen. Harry opens the door for me and I step inside, the smell of fresh bread and fresh coffee instantly filling my senses. “Mornin’ Harry,” the head of the kitchen grins, “Good morning, princess, Eleanor,” She beams.
“Morning, Grace. What are you making this morning?” Harry challenges as he shuffles closer towards the counters, taking a look at the foods Grace has prepared, “Smells lovely as always, please tell me these are scones,” Harry excitedly breathes out, lifting a white sheet.
Grace slaps his hand away and Harry steps back from the baked goods, “You know not to sticky-nose,” Grace laughs, “They’re not ready yet, I’ll have one of the ladies bring you a few… Princess, would you like anything?”
I shake my head, “No, thank you.”
“Just here to steal some coffee if you don’t mind?” Harry questions, already making his way to the steaming coffee that has already been made on the stove.
“You know where everything is,” Grace gestures kindly.
I can only assume Harry comes down here fairly often and has the sort of a relationship with the staff where they have no clue about his private life but they find him charming enough to let him do as he pleases in the kitchen and helps himself. “Grace,” Harry begins while he grabs two cups from a shelf. “You said the private door through the kitchen wasn’t opening?”
“Yeah. It’s getting harder to pull on the handle, it’s almost impossible and in an emergency, dangerous. I keep telling the staff not to slam the damn thing.”
“I’ll come down and fix it later, you still keeping an eye on the cameras for me?”
“As always,” Grace nods, “I’m going to start charging you for my work.”
“Add it to my tab,” Harry chuckles, “I’ll be waiting for the scones.”
Grace rolls her eyes and shoos Harry towards me, “on ya go, outta my kitchen, smartass.”
“Have a good day, Grace,” Harry laughs, stepping towards me and handing me my coffee before the two of us leave the kitchen staff.
I wonder about how much Harry interacts with the other members of the staff, I know the Lady’s Maids always gush over him but they always express how he is quiet and doesn’t talk much nor does anyone know about his private life. Grace is the only one I have heard him hold a conversation with, and it makes me wonder why he doesn’t seem to have many friends or why he doesn’t talk often to those who work in the Palace.
♛ ♛ ♛
I sip on my coffee on the front steps of the palace; I inhale the crisp morning air and the quietness of the grounds. I don’t remember the last time I was permitted to stand in front of the palace in utter silence without anyone taking pictures or crowds applauding my family. In a few hours, these very steps that I stand on will be covered with various flowers in remembrance of the king, some sent from other royals, some sent from other countries and some will be placed by our people. The stairs of the palace will be open to the public to allow them to show their appreciation with candles and flowers while monitored closely by the security team.
“We never got to cut the cake.”
“What?”
“We never got to cut the wedding cake or have our first dance.”
There’s a few things we didn’t get to do before my world came crashing down on me. Our wedding day was meant to be perfect, and it was, up until I was given the news. Most girls’ dream of their wedding day, from the dress to the venue, to the colour schemes, everything is planned intricately. No matter how well my day was planned, my wedding day will always hold bitter memories. I am not sure what I expected considering nothing has ever gone to plan before, but I had hoped for one day, just one.
Harry nods his head, his free hand reaching into his pocket and drawing out a set of keys, “Here,” Harry places the keys in my hand.
“Am I meant to lock my sorrows and sadness away with these?” I chuckle jokingly, unsure of why he’s handing me a set of keys.
“Ha, hilarious,” Harry rolls his eyes, “My car is right there, you’re driving.” Harry gestures towards the car that is parked towards the side.
“How is your car here?” I ask, well aware that he left it in Cheshire when he got the call about the King. As soon as Mathew knew, he had a car ready and waiting while Harry told me the news that destroyed me.
“My sister was kind enough to drive it down for me, left the keys with Grace,” Harry responds, stepping down the cold stone steps and walking towards his car. Harry glances over his shoulder and stops for a moment, “You coming or not?” Harry asks and I nod, quickly following and hopping down the steps.
I reach his car and Harry kindly opens the driver’s side door for me, allowing me to get in. I place my coffee cup in the side holder and I turn the key into the ignition. I play with the heat settings while Harry gets in on the passenger side. “I’m not allowed to leave, Harry.”
Harry leans back as he reaches for his seat belt and buckles himself in, “Since when have you enjoyed listening to the protocol?” Harry remarks.
He has a point, I have never been one to listen, but right now, I don’t have it in me to be rebellious.
“Since the King was brutally murdered and I am sure that I am next.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Harry instantly insists, “I already messaged Matthew that you were with me, it is fine. Now, drive.”
“Why? You never let me drive.”
“Drive, Anna, go anywhere,” Harry presses, “Just don’t wreck my car,” Harry chuckles, adjusting his shoulder with a small grimace before I begin to drive with an unknown destination.
I am never allowed to drive, and it has been one thing I have never really questioned, I don’t mind having other people drive me around, mainly because I get anxious when there are a lot of people on the road. It always seemed more beneficial to have a driver, one of the only royal benefits I relished.
As the car engine eradicates the silence between us, my deep thoughts slip through the cracks and eat me alive, continuously circling me and drawing me under, forcing me into a state of mind I don’t want to be in. I observe the tugging of my heartstrings and the lump in my throat that is trying to hold back the emotions my thoughts are pushing through.
I don’t want to think, I don’t want to listen to my thoughts or feelings. I want it to end.
“Harry, speak,” I instruct heavily, almost demanding him to speak.
“What?” Harry challenges, breaking the moment of silence.
“Talk, I need you to talk.”
“What would you like to talk about?” Harry offers.
I shake my head and grip the steering wheel tighter, “I don’t care, I can’t handle the silence and my thoughts, I need you to speak.”
“Let it out, Anna.”
“Let what out?” I snap. I do not know what he wants me to let out, it isn’t as though I can allow everything to spill out and miraculously have things changed and back to normal.
“What is it you want me to let out? Are you wanting me to suffer from the silence and break down? Is that what you want? Do you want me to tell you that even though my father had his flaws, I wish I had called him that morning when I woke up?” … “Do you want me to tell you how I can’t do this? This isn’t how it was meant to be? There, I’ve said it. Okay? This is killing me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I can’t fix any of it—“ I let out between heavy breaths and crystal tears that have been threatening to fall since I got on the flight here. “This wasn’t what was meant to happen.”
“Pull over,” Harry instructs, reminding me that I’m still driving and have both of our lives in my hands as I cry and let my anger out.
I pull the car to the side of the road and lean back on the chair, my hands releasing the steering wheel and shaking as I place them in my lap. Harry’s prompt to put the car in park and I just gaze into the abyss of nothingness that stares at me through the windshield. For a moment, the abyss is calming and tranquil, nothing but tears streaming down my warm cheeks while I attempt to steady my breathing and push my heavy thoughts away.
Harry opens my door and unbuckles my seat belt before gently grabbing my arm and tugging me out of the car, “Come here.”
“No, I don’t need the sympathy! I don’t need the hugs. Nothing changes what happened.” I attempt to push him away as I stand to my feet, “He’s gone, he can’t come back, they got what they wanted and I’m left with nothing. They took him and the monarch helped! They fucking helped, Harry!”
“I know, Anna, I know.”
I shake my head, “There’s no coming back, that’s it… my last words are my last words, I can’t change it. I didn’t call that morning, I should have—“ my voice breaks before I can finish my sentence.
Harry wraps his arms around me and for a few moments, I push and shove, fighting him off for no reason besides I don’t know what else to do, I don’t know how to control or handle the grief. I can’t constrain how I feel, I don’t even understand how I feel right now. He doesn’t let me go, instead, he holds me tighter and I weep into him, finally retreating and letting my guard down.
His hand holds the back of my head and his arm stays securely around me as I fall entirely into him, “Okay, okay, it’s okay,” Harry whispers, lowering us both to the ground gradually, “I have you, it’s okay,” he continues, letting me cry it out on the side of the road in darkness.
Harry calms me down and I lift my head from his shirt, finally gazing up at him. Harry’s lips curve into a small smile while his eyes shine from the reflection of the headlights of the car. He moves his hand up to my face and with the pad of his thumb, he wipes away the tear stains, “It’s okay to let it out, it’s okay to lose control, Anastasia.”
“I don’t like losing control and feeling this.”
“Nobody does,” Harry continues to wipe away tears, “I’m so sorry for what you have to deal with, I wish I could change things for you. I’m here for you, Anna. You don’t have to fill your schedule and do everything by yourself. It’s okay to grieve and let it out, it’s okay to not be okay.”
“It hurts,” I inform him.
The feelings hurt, the memories hurt, the unknown hurts. Everything aches and I don’t want to feel the despondency. I don’t want to hear the thoughts or the memories. In my mind, if I keep myself occupied, I don’t have to listen to my thoughts and feelings, I simply won’t have the time for it. If I put my energy to helping with the arrangements, I won’t cry as much, I won’t be as hostile and I won’t feel all these emotions that I can’t wholly explain.
Harry lets out a small breath, “I know, baby, I know.” Harry carefully stands to his feet and helps me up, “I love you, I hope you don’t forget that.”
“I don’t plan to,” I sniffle, using my sleeve to wipe away a few more tears, “I love you, too. But you stole my crown,” I half-heartedly joke, feeling the need to shed some light on things instead of shedding tears.
“Do you want it back?” Harry grins.
I shake my head, “No, not right now,” I respond, “You can keep it. Give it back once the hard work is done.
“I’ll make a mental note,” Harry chuckles, leading me towards the passenger side of his car.
“Guess I’m not driving?”
Harry shakes his head, “Not a chance.”
“Did you plan this?” I softly ask as he opens the door for me.
Harry doesn’t respond, he simply gestures for me to slide into his car, “You did… didn’t you?”
“I know you well enough to know that if you’re waking me up at four in the morning, you’re definitely not okay. I knew you’d break and tell me what was running through your head, I just wasn’t expecting a full break down.”
“You could have just asked me to tell you.”
“Would you have told me?”
I shake my head with a small smirk, “Probably not.”
“Exactly, watch your feet,” Harry gestures as he closes the door and walks around the front of his car to reach the driver’s side.
Harry’s POV.
A pounding knock at my door wakes me from my slumber and I instantly shoot up in the bed, the covers falling to my waist while Matthew barges into the bedroom, flicking the lights off and blinding me. “Christ,” I mutter, shielding my eyes from the intense light, “What’s the matter?” I groan, unsure of why Matthew is in the bedroom, barging in and flicking on the lights at such an ungodly hour.
“Where’s your wife?”
“What? In bed?” I respond, tiredly reaching my arm over to pet her side of the bed, “Anna?” Her name leaves my lips as I feel the space beside me. I am swift to shift my attention to her side of the bed that is cold and vacant. I shift the covers off my body and swing my legs over the edge of the bed, glancing at Matthew with nothing but uncertainty written across my face. “Anastasia?” I knock on the bathroom door and open it, my hand pushing against the wall to find the light switch. The light illuminates the room and I see nothing but an unoccupied bathroom.
I turn around and face Matthew, “Where is Anna? What’s going on?”
“That is why I am here, she’s meant to be with you.”
“She fell asleep with me. Did she go to her mother’s room?”
Matthew shakes his head, “No, the Queen is asleep and Oliver has been guarding her door.”
I spread my fingers through my hair before grabbing my phone from the side table, wasting no time calling her phone.
One, two, three...
The phone call goes straight to voicemail. Fuck.
“Have them check the camera’s, every room needs to be monitored,” I firmly instruct, reaching for a jacket and a pair of shoes. I rest on the edge of the bed and throw Matthew my phone, “Check the app that tracks our locations, it’ll show her last location, might be easier to find her in the damn Palace.” I mutter, hurrying to tie my shoes and gather my thoughts, various things racing through my head, all of the thoughts leading towards the possibility of something critical happening to her. Which, I am not sure how considering security is so damn high right now.
“Harry, she left the palace.”
“What?” My eyes grow wide, as Matthew’s words roll off his lips.
When I came to bed an hour ago she was in bed and asleep, she didn’t even stir when I crawled into the bed. I remember she was curled up on her side of the bed, her hand under her pillow with the comforter and a blanket over her. I turned off the bedside light that was still flickering at the ungodly hour and when I rested my head down on my pillow, I felt her place the tips of her fingers to touch my arm.
What I did not expect was for her to abruptly sneak out of the room and palace.
“She left, her phone has her location at a club.”
“Excuse me?” I stare at Matthew, unsure if I heard him correctly or if my tiredness is taking over and deceiving me. I shake my head disapprovingly.
“What do we do?” Matthew challenges me.
“You’re the head of security… why are you asking me?”
“You’re the King, I have to have your permission—“ Matthew begins and I roll my eyes.
“All due respect, since I have the opportunity to handle this, I want the castle on lockdown, nobody leaves and nobody enters unless we approve, you can decide protocol from there; I’m going to go find her,” I mutter, reaching for my keys, wallet and pistol by my bed. “Don’t alarm the press but we need half the security team with us to help look for her and secure areas.”
“Should we keep calling her?”
I shake my head, “She’s not going to answer. This isn’t like her.”
“Do you think she is spiralling?”
I nod my head, “No doubt.”
Anastasia does not sneak off to this extent, she does not just use the tunnels to get what she wants… It amazes me she managed to get out of the tunnels without being seen, then again, she is smart, she knows these tunnels well enough to get her way in and out without me.
** ** **
The club is hot and sweaty, the music is loud and pounding against my head. I’m not old or a party pooper, but after being woken up at four this morning to Anna insisting on us doing royal duties and then having to work, I’m tired… I have been up for just under twenty-four hours and the pounding music is doing nothing besides causing a headache and making me wish I was still in bed, wrapped up in my blankets without a care in the world.
My phone vibrates and I instantly check it in the hopes it’s Anastasia, but it’s Matthew.
“Go to the bartender and tell him you’re looking for Lavender.”
I raise a brow but I don’t question the text message, instead, I march to the bar and graciously yet vigorously make my way to the front. The bartender glances at me and gestures for my order, “I’m looking for Lavender.” I notify him, unsure of what Lavender is meant to get me in terms of locating Anastasia.
The man nods his head and gestures for me to follow his lead, he steps to the far left of the bar and pulls the half-door open, allowing me behind the bar with him, “She’s under the bar, I tried to keep her out of the public eye, a few people saw her but I simply told them it was my sister from Manchester.”
“Thank you for not publicising her.”
“No problem, but I’d make sure she doesn’t do this again. Everyone has phones these days to document this.”
I nod my head and I crouch down under the bar where Anastasia sits with her back against the wooden panels, a pair of heels by her side and her stockings ripped up her left leg. I want to scold her, I want to be angry and explain how ridiculously stupid and irresponsible this is on so many levels. I want to tell her how much danger she could have put herself in, but I can’t bring myself to let the harsh words fall from my lips. “Hey, baby,” I whisper, pushing a few strands of fallen hair behind her ear, “You ready to go home?”
Anastasia shakes her head, “Where’s home? The palace isn’t home. Home is where Dad welcomes me.”
“Sweetheart…” I begin, my heartbreaking as she looks down at the hands in her lap, sadness and disappointment evident with every moment that passes, “Home is wherever you make it, sweetheart. Home isn’t just four walls. Home is where you are. Your Dad is always with you no matter where you go. C’mon, let’s get you back to the palace and in bed.”
“Home is with you,” Anastasia whispers tiredly.
I softly smirk to myself and I nod, “Can you stand up and walk?” I request, unsure of how intoxicated she is. Her eyes tell me she has been drinking and mourning, but I’m not sure how much she has managed to drink before the bartender cut her off and hid her.
I place my arm around Anna and I help her stand up, her feet stumbling under her legs while she holds onto me like a child holding on for dear life, “Fuckin’ hell,” I mutter, “How much have you drank?” I question, holding her close to me so she doesn’t fall.
“Until the card stopped.”
“What card?” I curiously ask.
“Yours,” Anastasia responds honestly, “Can’t use mine, it’ll track me.”
“I gave you my card in case of emergencies,” I sigh, shaking my head as I guide her away from behind the bar and we use a back exit to avoid the public.
I get Anastasia out the door and we stumble across the stone pavements of a back alley and I let out a heavy breath as we have a moment to stop. I shrug my jacket off my shoulders and and I slide it up her arms, the windchill dancing between us. If she managed to conduct a way to sneak out and go to a bar, I would have thought she had enough sense to at least grab a jacket of some sort.
I use my phone to call Matthew and my other hand holds onto Anastasia by my jacket as she stumbles around, unable to stand still. “She’s fucking wasted, can’t walk a straight line to save her life, where’s the nearest car?” I mutter.
“I am not wasted,” Anastasia interrupts.
I hear Matthew chuckle on the other end of the phone before he clears his throat and informs me the car is three minutes away and to stay where we are and away from anyone who could report to the news outlets that the Princess is drunk off her ass.
*** ***
The security chambers have taken most of my attention, in a way, it has been a way to escape and take a minute to breathe and compose my thoughts and feelings towards what has happened. Although I don’t like Anastasia bluntly expressing the fact that whoever killed her father is more than likely going to come to her, I am scared she is correct. I want to avenge her father’s murderer, no doubt, but there is more than one. I am sure they’re all in on things. I need to continue to keep an eye on Henry, although I don’t think he is too much of a threat, I don’t think he can be forgotten about, he is still one of them, he still wants money and the crown as his mother did, however; I don’t think Henry will go to the extreme lengths Victoria did. Considering he doesn’t appear shocked about his mother’s unexpected disappearance and death, I don’t think he was much of a fan of his mother. Part of me believes that he is only apart of the schemes because of his mother. She was a powerful and manipulative lady, I believe she had a tight grip on her son and didn’t let him stray too far from her evil plans.
I glance over towards the camera’s, making sure nothing strange is happening. The workers are doing their duties and bustling around the palace and from what I can see, Anastasia is still in her room. As much as I wish she would come out of her room and act more lively, I would rather she stays in her room than to catch her sneaking out again. I don’t think she will be trying to leave the palace unattended, she is well aware that we have the palace on a strict lockdown, nobody enters or leaves without permission, cameras are on in ALL areas, including her room and the tunnels, and there is security detail roaming the tunnels. She can’t sneak out, she can’t escape. Her room has always been private and only watched when highly necessary, and I think now it is highly necessary, the last thing we need is for her to be out in public and unattended. I tap my fingers against the desk and cock my head to the side, the sudden realisation of things jostling me. Geroge and Henry managed to get to the hospital promptly considering they were meant to be in London while the King was brutally murdered in Germany. It’s almost as though they knew before anyone else.
The door to the chambers open and I glare towards the door but I instantly adjust my stare as Matthew walks in with a well-dressed woman who walks with power and authority.
“You’re busy, I see,” the woman smiles and I close my laptop before standing to my feet to greet her.
“I am, Prime Minister, and what do I owe this visit?” I offer her my hand to shake.
“We need to talk, it is the protocol, considering the events of things.” She trails off, referencing the fact the King died and I am now in power.
Matthew clears his throat and looks at me, “Harry, I will be heading to Anna’s room if you need me,” Matthew informs me, his eyes glancing down to his left wrist at his watch, a small indication for me to make this a prompt visit and conversation.
I nod my head, “Please, get her to eat something, it is noon and she hasn’t gotten out of bed.”
“I will do my best,” Matthew responds before exiting the chambers, leaving me with the Prime Minister who I have only met on a few occasions while being on the former King’s service.
“Before I have to talk to you about your protocol, I have a question, if I may?” I softly ask, doing my best not to sound like a dick or too much like a bodyguard; I am not trying to intimidate her by any means. Not that I think I would intimidate her, she seems highly powerful, but I tend to have an unrelenting stare and tone of voice.
She nods her head, permitting me to continue, “When did you find out about the King’s death?” I question, well aware that she would have been the first person to find out, but I assumed nobody would have made the call until the early hours, not right as Anna and I received the call.
“It was about nine, the Queen called.”
“But he wasn’t pronounced dead at that time,” I inform her, mentally tracing back my own steps of what occurred the night the King passed away.
“I was told he was in critical condition. Where are you going with this?”
“Who told George and at what time? He was determined to have Henry sign the papers, who told Henry?”
“Once I got the call, I had to announce it to the members of parliament to prepare for the worst. You have your protocols, I have mine.” She is stern with her power, asserting her dominance. I know she has her ways of operating things and I have my own, but her means of protocol don’t make sense with some of the events that took place soon after I received the call.
I bend my head, deciding now isn’t the time to ask more questions, I need to get back to working and figuring things out. “What are you here for?” I challenge.
“We need to discuss your reigning as King.”
I immediately shake my head, not desiring to discuss the fact I am the King by default. “All due respect, but no.” My words are straight to the point and blunt.
“Prime minister, let her be Queen so I can continue to my real job,” I view towards the prime minister who insisted on meeting me despite the fact I am busy working.
The prime minister stares at me and shakes her head, “You have to stay King, Harry.”
“No, the fuck I don’t, Philippa. The crown is rightfully Anna’s. I can’t pretend to play King. I know nothing about any of this besides the fact it has ruined her family.” I point out the obvious. Am not ready to run a country, I am not ready to even run the palace.
“If you refuse to be King, it goes to the next in line. Please, call me Pippa.”
“And who’s that, Pippa? It ought to be Anna, she’s next in line.”
Anastasia is the person who should accept the crown, it shouldn’t be me. I have no clue what I’m doing, she has been raised for this, she knows about the entire system and what should occur. I don’t know the first thing about commonwealth attires or how to control a country. All I know how to do is operate a security team for the royals. My job entails keeping everyone safe, not ruling a monarch that is gradually destroying my wife.
Anastasia has possessed the privilege of learning from her mother and father in what to do. Yes, her father wasn’t the most prominent ruler towards the end, but before the Ace’s caused havoc on the family, he was a damn good leader. He governed with an iron fist but was fair. It was rare for any one of the public to complain about the monarch or how it was run, the people were, are, content. The people don’t want me, a simple commoner, to manage the monarch, they don’t desire to observe me execute changes and discuss things with parliament, they require to see Anastasia, the woman they have observed over the years. I cannot govern the United kingdom and the fifteen other Commonwealth realms, I can’t even name all fifteen of the Commonwealth realms. I don’t know about the coming legislation that needs signing and voting on, I am not good with public speaking and addressing the matters of the country.
Any legislation enacted by Parliament must receive the Royal Assent before becoming law. No monarch has withdrawn to give Royal Assent since 1707 when that would have recreated the Scottish militia after England and Scotland were formally unified.
But what if I make the wrong decision and allow a bill to pass while I am in charge and it cripples the country?
What if I make the wrong decisions and ruin everything?
I may despise the monarchy right now but I don’t think Anna or her parents’ would ever forgive me if I was to ravage everything they have worked so strenuously for.
Pippa wearily sighs, almost as if I am inconveniencing her. “And do you think she’s fit to be Queen? Have you seen the papers?” Pippa reveals to me her phone that has the headlines of Anastasia’s drunken night out at the bar.
I stare at the screen and mentally roll my eyes. Once Pippa leaves, I’ll be making sure to communicate with Anastasia’s publicity team before calculating a means to shine things in a better light. Perhaps I’ll release to the journalists that Anastasia has a doppelgänger, I don’t know, I will have to get creative to hide Anna’s drunken antics.
I have seen the headlines and the papers, but that doesn’t define Anastasia. Anastasia is not what the media writes about her, Anastasia isn’t defined by what the people think or say.
“She’s grieving. She is the best one for the throne. You know this.”
“Do you think she can handle it?” Pippa questions.
“Do you think I can?” I scoff, exasperated that this responsibility is projected on me.
I can’t handle the throne. I wouldn’t even trust me to look after a puppy right now, mentally I cannot do this.
“I’m not sure, for some reason the King left you in charge. Either you continue as King or it gets handed to a distant relative. Not quite sure who that is right now, but that will not be a good idea. This is in your hands.” Pippa responds, once again making it known that the monarch and the people are currently resting in my hands.
“So, what? We tell the public there’s a plot twist and I’m king? The media will have a field day, we will be the laughing stock of all countries.”
“No,” she shakes her head, “Anastasia does the public events but you handle the monarch and the decisions. She’d be merely...” Pippa trails off, not wanting to finish her sentence.
“She’d be a puppet on strings, someone used for the limelight,” I mutter, not too pleased that Anastasia is being spoken about in this way, but I know Pippa doesn’t mean it in the way it sounds. “Pippa, my wife is upstairs, her world shattered over everything and you expect me to tell her that I have to stay as the King?”
“Harry, she doesn’t want to be Queen. She never has wanted this. She wants to abolish the monarchy, she isn’t fit to be Queen at the moment.”
“Neither do I. This is her fathers legacy, she needs to continue this. If I stay King she’ll want me to abolish the monarch. I can’t draw a line, she is my wife.”
“You’re not going to Abolish,” Pippa informs me, “When she is fit to rule, you can hand the crown over, until then, you need to keep it safe in your hands and run things. You’ll have the help of Anna’s mother and parliament.”
“Some of the men in parliament want my wife dead, I’m sure I’ll be next; I won’t be asking them for help,” I mutter, making it known I’m aware that some of the parliament officials are immoral and are on the Ace’s side.
“As King, you can handle that.”
“I can handle that as security, too,” I respond with a grin, “But you are going to handle the members of parliament,” I instruct firmly, “I am the Head of State and have legal powers, I want them out for the safety of Anastasia and the people. They’re corrupt. I do not work with corruption.”
Pippa shakes her head, “Harry, once elected, Members of Parliament cannot directly resign their seat. The only way that a seat can be vacated is through death, disqualification, dissolution, expulsion, or elevation to the Peerage.” Pippa informs me of what I already know, I am well aware of this due to the fact I have had the privilege to overhear conversations of the previous King. He wanted to kick certain members off from their position but he couldn’t, he was trying to find ways around the rules without changing too many.
“Well, if you can’t uncover a way to disqualify them and do what needs to be done, I will continue having them watched until I have a plan for how they’ll go missing. So, I suggest you handle this because I’ll make sure Anastasia isn’t touched and neither is her mother. This war against her family will end. Do we have an understanding, Pippa?” I’m firm with my words and what I’m alluding to.
I have reached my limits with the utter bullshit that has happened and continues to occur.
Pippa nods her head and grants me a small smile, “You’re already sounding like a King, ruthless and fierce.”
“I have to be, I want Anastasia safe. If we have an understanding, I’m going to get back to my job,” I gesture towards the monitors that I have been watching all morning.
“You do realise you’re working and just paying yourself now? You have to sign your paychecks now.”
“I uh—“ I begin, unsure of what to say, I haven’t quite thought about how I get paid now that I have moved to King. I’m not sure how the King even pays the employees. “I think it’s best the Queen handles the pay.”
“I will be in touch soon, will you be escorting me out?” Pippa asks and I shake my head.
“I cannot, Oliver will escort you out, he is at the door, I will let you out,” I inform her, walking towards the steel door and swiping my card through the system to open it, “Oliver,” I seize his attention and he walks closer to me, “Please escort the Prime Minister safely to the car in waiting, when you are done, you will be in the security chamber with me for more training, be quick,” I command Oliver intently before descending back into the security room and closing the door, more than delighted to have a few more minutes to myself to recompose the thoughts that are racing through me.
Later That Night.
I unlock the door to Anastasia’s bedroom and I’m surprised when I observe her sitting up in the bed, her back against the headboard and her eyes glued to a book in her hands.
I close the door behind me and unobtrusively walk in, my hands working to taking off my watch and emptying my pockets. Anastasia doesn’t bother to give me the slightest recognition, her eyes staying adhered to her book.
If I had a knife, I could cut the tension in the room. Sadly, all I have are unspoken words that I don’t want to say out loud.
“Anna,” I promptly begin softly, my shoulders shrugging off my suit jacket, “I think we should talk.”
I glance at Anastasia and watch as her brows furrowed into a frown and her lips purse onto a fine line, but she doesn’t bother to look at me.
She’s blatantly ignoring me.
None of this is my fault, yet somehow I feel like I am to blame.
“Okay…” I trail off, unsure of how far I can push without her snapping on me, I don’t want an argument but the silence isn’t healthy. “I guess I’ll do the talking.” … “I’m not sure why you’re angry with me, but whatever the reason is, I do hope that when you’re ready, you’ll talk to me about it so that we can work through it together. I don’t want to force you to speak if you don’t want to, but it’s not healthy.”
“You want me to speak, your majesty? I’m sorry, I was waiting for my permission to speak.”
“What?” I question. I’m unsure whether she’s being serious or being a smartass.
It’s a fifty-fifty chance either way.
“What do you want me to say, Harry?”
“We can start with why you’re ignoring me.”
“Because my life is beginning to feel like The Life of Saint Barbara.” Anastasia gestures around the bedroom, finally throwing her book to the side.
I stare at Anna for a moment, unsure of what point she’s trying to make, better still, unsure of who the fuck Barbara is.
Anastasia rolls her eyes, “You have no clue, huh?”
I shake my head.
“Her father had a tower built for her so she couldn’t leave or find a man, and was forced to stay in it until she found Christianity and ended up beheaded because of her faith.”
“Oh,” I sigh, “So you feel like you’re Repunzel locked in a tower?” I try not to chuckle, this analogy is far fetched.
Anastasia shrugs her shoulders, “Sure, we can put it that way, too.”
I chuckle, unable to control my sense of humour. “Good thing you can’t let down your hair and allow men to come up here at your demand.”
“This isn’t funny, Harry. You locked me in here.”
I heavily sigh and hold back my remarks about how she’s being a little bit overly dramatic. “Anna, I didn’t lock you in here, the entire palace is on lockdown.”
“I’m not allowed to leave my fucking room.”
“Because you escaped through the tunnels.”
“I needed out, Harry. This is suffocating me, Dad is gone, Mum is trying to act as nothing happened, I’ve had to help pick out fucking flowers and funeral arrangements, I have my assistant handing me different announcements I have to address in public… Harry, they’re scripting everything and my every move, they handed me a speech I have to give the day of the funeral. And to top it off, you have the crown, you’re the King, I’m just here and I don’t want to be here.”
I stand in silence, taking in every word Anastasia says, unsure of how to approach things. I nod my head and lean against the dresser drawers, “I’m sorry. The only reason you can’t leave is because—“
“Is because I fucked up and went out, I know, I get it. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, god forbid the future Queen ever acts out of character.”
“Darling,” I swiftly cut her off, “I’ll have security stand down, you won’t be watched as closely, the room will be monitored just for the safety in case someone enters the palace, there’s still a threat, but at any time you want privacy, they will be turned off at your request again. Don’t bottle all this in, talk to me, Anna.” I inform Anastasia of what I’ll make sure happens when it comes to security. The measures were never meant to make her feel like a prisoner in her own home, they were to genuinely keep her safe, but I understand it’s suffocating her and it isn’t fair.
Anastasia shouldn’t have to pay the price and be a prisoner because of the corrupt people out there. Anna didn’t ask for any of this. I run my hands over the dresser and frown for a moment, noticing it is cleared off of the items it held yesterday morning.
My eyes flick to the tea cart that usually has coffee and tea and right beside the cart there’s usually a silver plate with a glass, frozen cubes and a bottle of alcohol.
“Where’s the tea and the alcohol?”
“They were taken just in case I use them to escape. Apparently, I’m not allowed to have alcohol in the room. The lady’s maids took everything.”
I raise a brow and take my phone out of my pants pocket, my fingers swift to unlock my phone but I look towards Anna, “How do I signal for your lady’s maid at this hour?” I question, unsure of how to contact them without physically walking to find one.
Anastasia points to the button on the wall by her bed and I frown for a moment, “I thought that was just for emergencies?” I question.
“No, it calls for the staff, the red one is for emergencies.”
“I know what the red one is,” I respond, “Please press the button for your staff to come up here,” I instruct before my eyes settle back to my phone and I begin to text Matthew. I can only assume he has heard part of the conversation on the outside of the door, but just in case, I think he needs to know the security measures will be toned down in regards to her room.
Anastasia presses the button and stares quietly at me, “I spoke to Pippa.”
“I know,” Anastasia nods, “She told me what would be happening, you don’t need to explain.”
“I’m not listening to what they want, what do you want? Do you want the crown?”
“No, I can’t handle it, Harry. Pippa is right… but there is something I do want.”
“What’s that?” I ask, slipping off my shoes before sitting on the edge of the bed to face her.
“I’m tired of this tiny room, I’d like to move to one of the apartments.”
I nod my head in agreement, “If that is what you wish.”
“It is, and I want a television in our apartment.”
“I’ll make sure to put a TV in the apartment, but can we politely ask that the creepy portraits of monarchs are not in our apartment? They creep me out.”
Anastasia cracks and smile and for the first time, she giggles, “You’re the king, it’s your world, I’m just in it.”
“No, baby, it’s your world and I’m just in it. Speaking of housing… I was thinking we could talk about buying our own place together when things settle down so that we have a place that’s not apart of the royal family?” I offer, somewhat walking on eggshells. I’m not sure how Anastasia will react to the idea of buying a house or any sort of property away from the family.
She already has access to many homes but I’ve been made aware that they don’t feel like home. I want her to have a place that she can go to and feel secure without having royal protocol measures all around her, or a place that’s private and not constantly surrounded by people like the palaces are.
“I’m not sure how I’d afford it… I haven’t worked out my finances and how this all works.”
“Don’t worry about the finances.”
“Are you some rich multimillionaire I don’t know about?” Anastasia chuckles, “Have you been the one stealing the jewels?” Anastasia jokes and I playfully roll me eyes.
“You caught me,” I smile, “But no, I just work my ass off and make the right investments. Keep a lookout for places for sale you’d be interested in.”
“But… if you’re paying, it’ll be yours… can we wait until I can contribute, please?”
I nod my head, “Yes, but just to let you know, since we are married, what’s mine is yours, if I buy a house in cash tomorrow, it’s ours, not just mine. I’m not the kind of prick to dominantly buy something to hold it over your head later in an argument,” I inform her, assuming she has some sort of fear that in years to come, I’ll express the fact she didn’t pay for the home and that it’s mine, not hers. I’ve seen it happen in many marriages and relationships, I refuse to be like that. I’m genuine.
Before Anastasia can say anything, there are two knocks at the door before a lady-in-waiting is opening the door with a small smile, “Your majesty,” she places her hands in front of her, waiting for instructions.
“Hello,” Anna greets, “He called you, not me.” Anastasia gestures towards me.
“I was wondering if you could bring back the tea and whiskey that used to sit in the room and the other items that seem to have gone missing, please,” I smile towards the lady.
“Sir, I’m not allowed to serve alcohol to the Princess.”
“Oh, it isn’t for her,” I begin, “It’s for me, I’ve had a very long day and I need a stiff drink before I head into the tunnels to my room.”
“I’ll bring it up, just a moment,” the lady immediately nods, leaving the room promptly, “We need to tell the staff, I’m tired of making up stories.”
“My mother and her team will decide that, they’re scripting everything so I assume they’ll script when the staff are told…. Are you uhhh… are you working the funeral or?”
“I’ll be wherever you need me to be. Do you want me as your husband or bodyguard? It's your decision.”
Anastasia shrugs her shoulders and looks down, “I don’t know, I don’t know if we’re allowed in the public yet as a couple or if we have to keep it a secret still…. But … will you be near me if you have to be the bodyguard?”
I nod my head, “I’ll be right beside you or behind you, depends what Matthew sets up.”
“Everything’s going to be okay, right?”
Anastasia glances towards me for comfort, comfort that I can’t guarantee but I nod my head and crawl closer to her, wasting no time with opening my arm and letting her curl up into me, “Anna… everything might not be perfect, shit might happen, we might argue here and there, your mother might end up going nuts and smashing all the vases in the palace, I don’t know, but I do know that no matter what happens, I’ll be right here. I’m going to be here to hold you, wipe away tears, to laugh and cry with you. Everything will be okay, it might not be today, next week or next year, but it will be okay. We will be okay. You will be okay. I promise I’ll always be right here,” I kiss the top of her head, doing my best to assure her that no matter what happens, I’m not going anywhere.
Life is hard as it is, but it’s even harder when you're a royal with uncertainty and a life that isn’t technically normal. Contrary to popular belief, her life isn’t as easy as the fairy tails make it out or how the media portrays her life.
“I love you, Harry.”
“I love you, Anna. But I need you to promise me something,” I gently clasp her hand with mine, bringing it to my lips and caressing a soft kiss to the back of her hand. Anastasia hums, awaiting my request, “No more shutting me out, talk things out with me. If you want to have a drink, have a drink but do it safely, if you want to go out, talk to me, we can make it happen. No need to sneak around and put yourself in danger.”
I want her to understand that no matter what, I’m always here. I may be an asshole at times and I may act like too much of a bodyguard but I don’t want her to feel as though she has to sneak around me. This world she lives in is hard enough without me making it any harder for her.
“You’re talking to me like a kid.”
“That is not my intention,” I sigh, “I just want you to be safe and I want you to talk to me and not shut down.” … “I’m here for you, no matter what. If I could take your pain and make it mine, I would. If I could change what has happened, I would, but I can’t. All I can do is make sure you understand that I’m here for you, I thought we had an unspoken language where you knew this but the events of the other night proved me wrong.”
“I know. I know you’re here for me, it’s hard sometimes. I’m suffocated by this life and I didn’t know how to say it.” Anastasia responds, “Get out of bed before the lady-in-waiting sees as she brings your alcohol,” Anna instructs, nudging me out of bed.
I get off the bed and position myself towards her dresser where I was standing when the lady-in-waiting last saw me. Anastasia goes back to reading her book while I stand and ponder over the woman I’m in love with. Such a beautiful soul who deserves the world sits in front of me completely broken. And the worst part about it is there’s nothing I can do to fix it. I can’t just glue her broken pieces back together and pretend all is okay, I can’t just hug her and hold her, no. This goes deeper than a simple hug and condolences.
I am scared that Anastasia is on a downhill spiral that I can’t control. She’s tough, but I think she has finally been broken.
Summary: Welcome to Mattina ed Estasi, an art gallery dedicated to show the art of seduction. This story is dedicated to the discover of true sex.
A/n: each day has a painting, please click on the link, likes and reblogged are love and if you come talk to me about it: I’ll love you forever. Please read end notes, it’s important
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Somewhere in Italy, 1978…..
Day 1: Mattina ed Estasi https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Painting-Extasy/300907/4211239/view
Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. It was hot, hotter than any other summer she has ever lived in her 25 years of life upon this earth. Her pink loose dress was sticking like glue because of the heat and she was late for her first day at the new job.
Fucking amazing, right?
The bus was late and then she got lost because she should have turned right but she took a left and her Italian isn’t amazing enough to understand what the old lady was trying to explain her, she was speaking too fast and Lav was far too nervous to concentrate.
But finally she saw the brick walls built in an elegant way. She saw the big stained glass with the mermaid. She had finally found Mattina ed Estasi, or “morning and ecstasy” in English. This is going to be her new job - new home- for at least the next 18 months (that was what the contract said, at least).
Having graduated just a year ago from the University of Coimbrã with a major in arts and communication, Lavignia found herself without a job and without the possibility of asking for her folks to help since they didn’t want her to go to college at all (she had one job and that was to marry well…. and that’s clearly not what she did).
But a friend of a friend told her one night about this gallery in Italy that needed someone to work there. This person had to speak English, to communicate with all of the tourist and had to know a lot about art.
Thank god she knew both.
Packing her bags, she dished her job at the bar and went to Italy on the morning train all the way from France. With all of her articles about art and the hope of a brand new start.
Taking a deep breath she walked through the doors, coming face to face with a tall red head: “you must be Vanessa! Mrs. Lovelace told me you would be here.
She was nervous, feeling short when standing side by side with this gorgeous woman. Her hair all messy from the wind and heat. But Vanessa, with a freckled face and very blue eyes, opened a smile and refused her hand shake, going for a hug.
“Hello, Lavignia. Yes, Mrs. Lovelace has told me all about you, she seemed excited, she loved your article about the art movements as protest against the military coups in Latin-America.”
“I’m glad. And please, call me Lav”
“Of course. Ready to begin our training?”
They started to walk around the gallery. An intimate space with golden artificial lights, a crew of men was working with all of the artwork for the new exposition: “Love and Sex”.
“What do you know about our new work? I just need to know everything you were told so I can help you with the rest”
“Well, I received a lot of books to study the theme on the last few days. Love and Sex is all about the the raw emotions of the human body, showing how much they are alike but also not so different. One complements the other but at the same time you can have sex without feeling in love, and you can fall in love and not have sex.” She could feel the embarrassment from talking so much about this subject with someone she barely knows but since it was about art becomes more acceptable.
“Yes. You are very correct. We are getting pieces from the renaissance era till the new paining by erotic artist Joan Semmel, our biggest conquest of this is actually her painting “Sunlight”, but Harry still has to bring that one”
“Nice. But who is Harry?”
“Oh, didn’t Mrs. Lovelace told you about the owners of the shop?”
Lavignia shook her head in a negative but said “only that she was one of them.”
“We have three owners. The first one is Jeannie Lovelace” the one who interviewed Lavignia just 5 days before. She was around her late sixties, beautiful long silver hair and blue eyes. Very elegant lady always using nice bell pants and white shirts. “Well, first, never call her Mrs. Lovelace to her face, she doesn’t like being treated like she is elite, even if she is. Some people say that on her younger days she had an affair with Duke Elligton, can you imagine?”
They laughed together, this beautiful old lady must have so much to tell if given the opportunity .
“Anyway, she was the founding mother of this beautiful gallery. She never got married so her true love is art. She founded this gallery back in 1961 with the money she inherited from her father company back in the U.S”.
“Nice. There is two others right?” She said while pointing to a board with the story of the gallery “This Harry you just told me about and Jesse right?”
“Yes. Let me start with the worse: Jesse Fire. Firstly, I’m pretty sure that’s not his real name. He’s this elite lawyer and a jackass with everyone he doesn’t find worthy of his time. He only puts money on this gallery because it’s a good investment and makes him have a “intelectual image” for the tabloids. Don’t worry too much about him but if he ever appears just try to not talk to him, and you’ll be fine. He is on holiday and won’t return for another three months. And he lives in Rome, so even when he’s in the country he comes here only for big openings and our parties. We are all safe.”
She opened a huge smile
“Now, let’s talk about the last one: Harry. Do you happen to know H.E Styles?”
“You mean the erotic poet and composer? The one people are always talking about his sexual escapades and charming ways”
“That one. Well… that’s Harry. I mean, we all know Harry made his money with art and he likes to spend his money with more art. Shocking, right? He has the biggest collection of sensual masterpieces. From paintings to sculptures and even vintage sex toys: he has it all. Actually this exhibition was his idea. The main pieces will have a poem by him attached to it.”
“And how many pieces are we hoping for?”
“Around 10. He’s going to write new poems for the main events, inspired by a few of the art pieces and will release a book at the end of everything. And that’s the reason why we still don’t have the painting by Semmel. He is struggling with that one and took home last Friday and promised to bring here today.
“And it’s not here today” said a raspy slow voice from the back door. He was using a blue chiffon shirt almost completely unbuttoned with a pair of high waisted white jeans and a glittery boot, with heels that gave him at least 3 inches more. “I am so glad to see my favorite red hair today. It was a tuff weekend”
He got closer and she could finally see his face: green eyes, beautiful wavy brown hair and a nice crooked smile with dimples just to make it more adorable. And he had a mustache. Lav absolutely hates mustaches, but if it’s this handsome fellow that has one…. she wouldn’t complain.
“What happened? Couldn’t find inspiration again?” Vanessa said while touching his arm. Of course a guy that hot would go for a girl like Nessa. They looked like a power couple together.
“First I thought I could get inspiration if I could just stare at the painting. But it didn’t work so I called Daniel and Melissa, maybe with a fun three way party I could feel inspired, wrong. Then yesterday, I thought “maybe I need to see the world with different eyes” so I popped a few acid tablets… didn’t work. So now I’m here, on a Monday morning, asking you PLEASE let me have the painting for a few more days”
It was too much information for Lav to take, in three days he had done more than she has done her whole life. That made her feel quite uneasy.
“That depends, Styles… will you borrow your beach house for the summer so I can have my honeymoon with Cathy there?”
Oh, she has a fiancée, thought Lavignia, how silly could she be, thinking they were a couple.
“I was already going to offer you this and you know it. But of course, my Calihouse is yours for the time you want it for your honeymoon” he finally locked eyes with the brunette who was feeling like an outsider listening to private conversation: “and who is this Dove? Is she the new curator you and Lovelace were talking about?”
“Yes, Lavignia this is Harry. Harry this is Lavignia”
She gave him an awkward smile.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Styles”
She raised her hand to shook his that was already reaching out for her. But, instead of a shake, he took her hand and before giving a kiss he whispered to her hand “please, call me Harry.” He kissed her hand and let her hand go, using the tips of his fingers to caress her arm on the way down from its previous position.
“She is actually going to create the sequence for the pieces and the artistic and historical explanation of the pieces from the the exhibition”.
“I thought I was going to write this”
“Yeah but she has the technical knowledge. So you are going to look at the art, find a meaning behind and she is going to write the explanation for the techniques and whatsoever and to the presentationwould be interesting if you guys worked together”
That’s when it hit Lavignia: they had 6 days till the opening and absolutely zero idea of what they were going to produce.
“Wait….. we have six days to plan this whole thing?”
Harry laughed.
“Yes, we have done a lot but still, we have a lot do. Right now the focus is to create a storyline to exhibit everything and it has to go well with the main theme. Welcome to our gallery” he said with a smile. “But I’m sure it’s going to be an easy job. Because love and sex are so inherent to the human being”
That wasn’t going to be an easy job. She didn’t know much about love or sex.
.
After their conversation, the day was just a blurry memory: checking the pieces, looking for articles and references about each one. Harry would once in a while come and check on Lav, ask her if she wanted anything and sometimes he would just look at her, like he was trying to memorize her face.
It was already 7 pm and Lav and Nessa were getting their stuff to leave when Harry came up to talk to them:
“Girls, Lovelace just called the office and asked if we want to have dinner at her place. I’m going, care to join?”
“I can’t, have to meet Cathy. We have a dinner date to try and finally find a date that is good to get married” said Nessa “but I think it would be good for Lav so she can get a feel about how we work”
“I can give you a ride if you want” Harry offered with a sweet smile, putting both of his hands on the reception table and getting closer to her face.
“Uh, sure. Let me just get the rest of my stuff”
“Sure, I’m waiting outside”
Vanessa was looking down at her with cheeky eyes and knowing smile: “you are going to have the best fuck of your life” Lav eyes grew wide “oh me and my fiancée once had a threesome with Harry. A one time thing but didn’t he gave us the ride of our lives”
“There will be no fu… mingling with the boss for me. Thank you very much” Lavignia said while getting the rest of her stuff and walking away with heavy steps and wide angry eyes. She was already out of the door but she could still listen to Vanessa’s laughter.
She started looking for a nice and extravagant car but what she found was Harry leaning on a very red Harley Davidson. Picking at his nails, tearing off the nail polish in the process.
“Hey. Ready?” She was shaking she had never walked on a motorcycle.
“Kinda. Never been on a motorcycle before”
“What a pleasure to be the your first ride then” Harry said giving her a blinking eye and a mischievous smile. “First let’s put this thing on you” he got closer to her with a blue helmet with silver stars in hand.
First he caressed her messy curls and then slided the helmet on her head, never taking his green eyes off of her: “you look perfect with this on, like you belonged on a fast ride, just like this ride I’m going to give you”
She didn’t know how to answer that, she could just blush.
“Let’s go?” Nodding with her hand and getting onto the bike with Harry, Lavignia had this nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach: it burned. Every single time he turned a left she would end up brushing her front against his back that was covered by the thin blue shirt. She never felt this spark before, almost like something in her body was screaming for the feel of him. Maybe was the fact they spent the day in the middle of sensual pieces of arts, maybe was the fact that the smell of vanilla on his neck made her think of sex.
And she never thought of sex, never understanding what was the appeal to showcase something it was supposed to be so intimate, and he didn’t have any filter when it comes to it. Maybe the almost 4 years without someone between her legs have finally got her and she was going crazy.
After it felt like an eternity in a war with her own thoughts, they came to a stop on a small circle park with 5 houses surrounding the area . All of them were big and out of a art decor movie. They came to a stop in front of one of the houses: this one was yellow with high walls and a lot of plants all over the entrance.
“This is Jeannie Lovelace house. My house is the other one on the other side of the park” Harry finally said, without taking his helmet off, pointing towards a house with a bright orange tone to it with rounded windows and a balcony that was exposed for the street, full red roses. “She is already expecting us, you can go inside, I’m just gonna drop my bike at my house. Do you live close?”
“No, I live close to the beach, close to that souvenir shop, you know? It’s about 30 bus stops from the gallery.”
“You can stay at my place, if you want” he said in a normal tone but a sparkle was found inside his eyes, maybe she wasn’t the only one that was left shook from their little trip standing so close together.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea” she could admire him, but she couldn't touch. She only knew him for a few hours but she knew it was trouble. And maybe her tone was quite condescending because Harry changed his posture and stopped smiling and just pronounced a small and guilty “okay” before driving towards his house, acting almost like he was feeling shameful. Before Knocking on the door there was only one thing in her mind: this was going to be an extressfull dinner.
.
Day 2: Woman with the black stockings
(Painting they talk about: https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/a/ac/Schiele_-_Frau_mit_schwarzen_Strümpfen_-_1913.jpg )
“Darling, wake up” she could feel Jeannie elegant voice talking quietly “it’s almost 9, if you want to be on time to your meeting with Harry, you have to wake up now”
Meeting? When did she and Harry settled a meeting hour? Lav’s last memory was from getting another glass of the green drink because she was quite overwhelmed with the conversation topics. She didn’t even knew there was so much it could be talked about sex.
“Sorry” she said getting up “my head is killing me. Thank you for letting me crash here, I don’t even remember how I made it to this bed” she looked around, being in a big room with with walls and drawing of flowers all over it, Lovelace was standing right next to her holding a plate full of food.
“Oh, darling there is nothing to be sorry for. You should thank Harry, he was the one who carried you over here” she said while settling the plate on her lap “but a little piece of advice? When it comes to absint you don’t drink more than 3 shots, now eat. Do you remember what we talked about last night?”
Oh God, she didn’t want to hear all of that AGAIN but she had to be honest: “after my third glass my mind is just a blackout. I’m so embarrassed”she said while getting the beautiful croissant and taking a bite of it and it was so good “You only know me for two days, you are my BOSS and I made a complete fool of myself”
“Again: nothing to be sorry for, everybody in the gallery is like family to me. Not counting Jesse, he is just someone that gives us money…. think of him like the awful uncle that everybody has to deal with” laughing at her own joke “We just talked about the opening then me and Harry stared to exchange stories… that was when you started to drink a little too much.”
“I just… I hope this doesn’t get me fired but, you all just treat sex like it isn’t an act it should be kept in your bed and I got nervous yesterday with the topics of the conversation once we stopped talking business and especially Harry I mean…. I met him when he was talking about a menage he had in search for inspiration to write about an art piece” She said with open eyes and exasperated sigh
“Lavignia, sweetie, you know that this gallery is about sex right? We showcase pieces with a sensual and sexual background. Also we hold parties, books reading, music. Look at the name we gave it: MORNING AND EXTASE”
“Oh god, I’m so sorry Mrs. Lovelace, when we talked you only told me about this exposee we are doing and I thought that was it. I know that sensuality and art are two themes that often come together but ….”
“There is no problem, Lavignia” she said in a more serious tone, yeah, Lav was out of a job only on her second day, she was sure of it. “Look, I was so ecstatic to have someone with your resume that I only talked about what we are working on right now. Can I ask you something? Give us a chance, please? Especially Harry, he is a sweet guy who lives and feels everything, he gives himself whole in everything: art, friendship, love, sex. I wish I could have met someone like him when I was younger, I would be married, maybe.” She said with a sweet smile “When we are over with the planning of this, if you wish, you can let us go. But try and immerse yourself with us, there is more to the world than ‘waking up, growing old and dying’. If at the end of this you don’t wanna stay, I will find you a job at the most traditional art gallery. But, give us a chance, there is something behind your eyes that longs for something, I can see it, let us show you there is no shame in living.”
Looking at her hands, Laviginia thought about how she was never satisfied, leaving her parents home when they wanted her to get married to their neighbor, going to college in another country, then going to Paris to find a job and failing and now having this big opportunity in her hands: she couldn’t say no; so she nodded and got a big hug from the elegant old lady.
“Now, I asked Harry to get you a few clothes ‘cause I figured you wouldn’t want to be another entire day with the same ones. He is already here with the clothes I’m going to get it for you. Take a shower. We’ll be waiting for you in the living room” Jeannie said getting up from her sitting down position in bed but before she could reached the door she turned to Lav and said “and another thing: don’t ever call me Mrs again, either Jeannie or Lovelace. Okay?” and with that she left the room and Lav went to shower, knowing she had a chance in her hands and the only person who could mess this chance up.
.
After taking her shower Lavignia came back to the room to find not only clothes but shoes and underwear and even a perfume, on top there was a note:
Lovelace would not forgive me if I got you clothes and didn’t bought you a perfume. According to her a woman is naked without a scent. I hope I got the sizing right.
H.
PS: I would love to see you wearing the lingerie, this one was all Jeannie.
Of course he would said something like that. The clothes consisted of a black mini dress with red little hearts and a high turtleneck, together with black boots and a thigh high black stockings. The lingerie was pretty, a set with a bright cherry color made of lace and satin. She loved looking at the mirror using such a beautiful piece, there was something about her she didn’t knew it could be achievable: she looked quite sensual. She felt like she was Twiggy herself (even if she didn’t look at all like Twiggy).
Last but not least: the perfume. It was Paris by YSL and it smelled like richness and sex. Of course he wouldn’t give any less than something like this. But she couldn’t lie, she was grateful for him, Lav knew she was quite harsh to him just the night before with her judgmental looks and words, but even then he got out of this way to help someone he only knew for 24 hours.
Getting down the stairs she could ear the light tone of their conversation, something about “opening yourself for love”, it seems like Lav was not the only one that was getting a preach from the one and only Jeannie Lovelace.
With the sound of her footsteps getting closer, Harry turned around and smiled: “glad I got the sizing right. You look nice.” He was getting up and so was Jeannie
“I’m going to give you guys a ride and then I’m picking Nessa up, we are going to the train station”
“I thought we all were working together today” Harry said while walking side by side with both women toward the backdoor that lead to the garage. Jeannie gave them both a big smile:
“Early this morning I got the news: We got the Corregio” in that moment Harry lifted Jeannie up and started to kiss her cheeks while saying “I knew you could do it”.
Antonio da Corregio was an painter from the italian renaissance, being able to get one of his pieces to put on display outside from its home museum in Viena was almost impossible . Lav was looking at the interaction and saw it for the first time: Lovelace saw Harry like a son. They were a little happy family. What she didn’t expect was Harry to put Jeannie down and take her into his arms, giving a big hug and involving her in his smell all over again.
“Now, let’s go kids. You two have to analyse the Schiele piece and me and Vanessa have a date with Corregio”. And so they left in a very lilac mercedes.
.
Laviginia couldn’t stop sweating, she was standing side by side with Harry in front of a big painting of a woman sitting down, pushing her skirt up so she could show all of her private parts. With very red lips and nipples and black stockings, very similar to the ones Harry got her, and from his face, she was sure it was not a mere coincidence.
“What do you think we should do with this one?” Harry asked
“I think every piece of art tells a story and we have to discuss about this piece, what story does it tells us” Lav said getting away from the painting and closer to the books she had spread all over the table, looking for her bookmarks about Egon Shiele and any piece of information about his painting The woman with black stockings. She looked over at Harry and he looked relaxed with his with long sleeve shirt full of drawings on the sleeves and blue jeans. He was calm while waiting for her to tell him about whatever piece of information she found on the books. Her mind was going crazy, she was sweating through all of her pores, there was the same unfamiliar warmth in the pit of her stomach and there was Harry, changing his attention between her and the naked woman like they were talking about the weather. Finally she found the information she was looking for in one of the many bookmarks she made “This dates back to 1913, he got arrested countless time because of his art…”
“It’s ridiculous being arrested for making his art, especially one so intimate but I understand the time but so be it, I hate it when people make sex such a taboo. But please, continue with what you were telling me”
Cleaning her throat, she continued “according to this the reason behinds his arrests were his nude and semi-nude portrayals of his lovers. It also says those portrayls are so beguiling is quite simple: they have a filth quality to it. He likes to portrait his adoration towards woman and sex”
“Wow, that’s probably the most of dirty talk you have ever made in your life, I’m proud you got to reading all of this only blushing a bit” he looked at her with kind eyes and a smirk gracing his beautiful rosé lips “Okay, he wants to show devotion and rawness to it, right? There is this gorgeous woman spread open for him, longing for him as I hope he was longing to get between her legs and get so deep they don’t know when one ends and the other begins. I think that the theme of this is want, is the disinhibition, not being ashamed of wanting something that is so good” Lav felt like he was talking about her and not the painting “He has a dirty mind freakness, doesn’t only show people what he is seeing, he shows us his desire and let us get into his intimate for one reason: he painted his lovers, people he knew from inside out, people who must have some meaning to him. The fact that he can put together adoration and the most primal act of the human race, takes his art from merely beautiful to widely erotic”
“What does it feel like?” she asked him “being able to see and feel and talk about this without feeling like it’s wrong? Being able to let yourself go”
Harry looked at her and she had no idea what his face was telling her. He was sitting on the floor and pated the place in front of him in a silence request for her to join him. She sat in front of him, folding her legs and looking him in the eye
“I always felt like there was more to life than the one I was leading on, you know? My family came from money, but everything just felt the same, so one day, as soon as I turned 18, I went to Los Angeles, that was 10 years ago, ending of the 60s and beginning of the 70s, David Bowie was still becoming what he is now, Beatles had just broken up Fleetwood Mac didn’t have Stevie Nicks. There I met people who showed me more and more of living and then I started writing, becoming myself. It was with my art that made my own money and got kind of famous but I never actually showed my face to magazines till I came to Italy when I heard that the gallery wasn’t doing very well, offered to help and I gained a second mother in Lovelace, she was there for me all the time and she was the first one to tell me that I didn’t have to be ashamed of who I was, if I like a bit of everything or if I dress quite flamboyant or anything.” Harry smiled “ That’s what she wants for everybody: have a fulfilling life like hers, without any fears. It’s all a learning you know, one day at the time, you get there.” Harry took her hand and gave it a kiss “tomorrow we’ll all be together to look at the Corregio, you can talk about whatever you are feeling, I promise you: no one is going to judge you.”
“You know it would be nice to just be able to talk about this without feeling like I’m going to hell and I don’t even believe there is a hell.”
“If hell is full of people who don’t care about labels and know how to have fun… I don’t wanna go to heaven “ Harry smiled “but you know, I’m a GREAT teacher, I would love to teach you how to be less awkward when it comes to the theme, after all you are working for a gallery about sex”
“I’m not having sex with you”
“God, Lav, don’t be such a pervert, I was talking about being less shy when it comes to talking about it. Come on repeat with me ‘fuck me’ without blushing”
“Fuck me”
“No, fuck me”
“Fuck me”
“No”
“Fuck me”
“Finally! That’s my girl.” Harry said giving a peck to her nose. “Now, how about we go eat a nice gelato, my treat. Then we can come back to talk about the painting”
“I crave your mouth, you voice, your hair/ Silent and starving, I prowl through the streets/ Bread does not nourish me, dawn disrupts me, all day/ I hunt for the the liquid measure of your steps” the words from the poem left Harry’s mouth like honey. When they both arrived early to the gallery, Harry sat on the floor with a poetry book and asked if she wanted him to read for him. “I hunger for you sleek laugh/ your hands the color of savage harvest/ hunger for the pale stones of your fingernails/ I want to eat your skin like a whole almond”
When Harry said that sentence he stopped briefly and looked at Lavignia, wanting to see her reaction. He didn’t choose that poem with no intend, he wanted her to see how sexuality and love could be show on poem, with such a easy passion, no shame. She was looking right at the pearls he was wearing around his neck, thinking he didn’t noticed the way she was staring at his chest and necklace, he licked his lips and continued: “I want to eat the sunbeam flaring in your lovely body/ the sovereign of your arrogant face/ I want to eat the fleeting shade of your lashes.
The more Harry read, the more Lavignia was imagining he was doing all the the things quoted, adoring her body with such hunger, she was thanking God that he was close to finish his reading: “And I pace around hungry, sniffing the twilight/ Haunting for you, for your hot heart/ Like a puma in the barrens of Quitratue” He closed the book and looked at her:” so, that was the Love Sonnet XI by Pablo Neruda, what do you think of it?”
“It’s beautiful”
“Only beautiful? What do you feel when you listen to those words. Erotism can also come in form of beautiful words, to show those feelings and to have them returned are a bliss, if is a one night or a lifetime.”
She wanted to be like him, like everybody she met during those 3 days, so she trying to raise her voice and finally say something:
“I feel hunger. Hunger for life. I don’t want to feel like it’s wrong to desire someone”
Harry got closer to her, almost touching their knees together. The moment he walked through the door last monday he was captivated by the girl wearing the cherry tree print dress. He couldn't stop watching her every movement, how she would stare at each art piece with a passion observation yet timid eyes, how she would like at him like he was from mars, she had so much inside of her screaming to break out of the coffins of her mind and heart, and Lovelace made him promise he would help her, she saw so much of her in Lavignia.
“Would you like to try and live the life you always longed for?” he asked her.”You will never be judged here, that is a promise I make you, in the name of everybody”
She was hypnotized by his eyes and the thought of finally exploring whatever she felt since she was younger and everybody always told her how wrong it was: this hunger. Ever since she read the Betty Friedan book “The feminine mystique” and was shocked to find out that women also could find pleasure in sex just like men. Never having the courage but each day inside the gallery she could feel the same insistent pit in her stomach always asking for more” So she just nodded and Harry got even closer, so close she could see the blue and golden inside his eyes and could hear his breathing and smell the mint in his breath.
This guy that just this weekend was having threesomes was going to kiss her shamelessly inside their workplace. And she was going to let him.
“Good Morning darlings” said the elegant voice of Jeannie coming from the front door “I’m a little bit late but I got fresh macarons from the french bakery close to Nessa’s place. She is just parking the … oh” Finally looking at the young couple on the floor so close that it was unmistakable that they were about to kiss when the owner of the gallery busted through the door “well…. young passion, always a good feeling when you just can’t wait till you can get home and enjoy each other but please do whatever you were going to do away from the art pieces, we wouldn’t want another incident like the party we threw back in 75”
Harry gave Jeannie a cheeky smile while the only thing Lavignia could feel was shame, absolut and complete shame. Opening her mouth to defend the situation she found herself in:
“But we weren’t going to…”
“Lavignia you know I’m the biggest and most precious work of art from our little gallery” Harry said at the same time she was trying to come up with any excuse, looking at her while getting up and offering his hand.
“Oh Harry if I was 30 years younger you wouldn’t scape me” Jeannie answered. Today she was using a elegant bright red dress and a scarf around her head and by the smile on her face, Lav understood what they were trying to do: they wanted her to feel comfortable so they were joking to show her there was no problem in whatever they were doing.
“Now, enough talking we have two pieces to figure it out today and Harry where the fuck is the Semmel?” Lovelace said taking her heels off and started to walk around, checking everything they had already done. There was still 3 pieces for them to figure out how they would showcase.
.
They were all sitting on the bench Harry dragged to the middle of the room, with watchful eyes resting on Lavignia that was right in the middle of two art pieces. They all were waiting for her to begin her explanation:
“So, if you look at my right, we have the famous Correggio painting: Jupiter and Io, dated back 1530. So, we all know the Romans saw Jupiter as the equivalent of the Greek god Zeus. According to the tale, he was attracted to everything that was beautiful, especially Io, she was one of Hera’s priestess. Jupiter was always tempted by others beauty and would disguise himself to be closer to them. In the case of the Correggio” she said posting towards the bluish god that was encasing the woman in a sensual way “he took the form of a velvet fog to reach for Io” pointing through naked woman encased by the fog, she took a break, waiting to see if they wanted to add something but Jeannie just gave her a small smile, telling her to continue: “it’s from the Italian renaissance, as we all know and the technique is oil on canvas, it’s height is around 5’4 and is has been in the Austria museum since the XVI century”
Harry raised his hand not wanting to disrupt her talking, he was quite fond of the way she lost all of her shyness and insecurities when it comes to art. When she was done she looked at Harry when he raised from his sitting position to get closer to the painting:
“If we look next to her face, we can see a face form itself on the fog, that’s Jupiter, right? He is there taking her pleasure as his own and giving his pleasure to her as her own. It’s a mutual feeling, she isn’t dreaming about the fog, he is there. This is such an erotic turn, showing us this woman being involved with this fog, her face looks like she was being pleasured. It’s about the feeling of letting go, she was letting herself being encased by this fog, encased by desire” turning his face to the redhead sitting close to Lovelace he asked “what do you think, Nessa?”
Crossing her long legs that were covered by a letter flared jumpsuit she stayed quiet, taking the pairing calmly.
“I think I wanna hear about the Aphrodite before making a decision”
Harry pinched Lavignia cheeks lightly as if saying: come on, we are waiting.
Lavignia was looking at the piece. The three naked woman with no shame, laying together on top of the blue satin sheets: one was laying down with her hands above her head, the other was on her fours atop of the laying girl and the third was encasing the the same girl that has her eyes closed in delight. It was clear that she was the one they were intending to adore, she was Aphrodite.
“Aphrodite is one of the famous goodness, she is the goodness of love and beauty, she was responsible for the perpetuation of life, pleasure and joy…” Lav lost her train of thoughts the moment she looked at Harry.
He looked calm, standing so next to her, listening so attentive, as if every word that came from her mouth was precious to the subject. His eyes were extremely green thanks to the green and blue crochet vest he was wearing together with a high waisted jeans but everytime he raised his arms she could see a bit of his soft belly and what it seemed to be a butterfly tattoo.
“Earth to Lavignia?” said the fant voice of Jeannie. Shaking her head a muttering a small ‘sorry’, she continued:
“Anyway, this illustration on paper was made for the Pierre Louys’s book, the artist is Maurice Ray, we don’t know the date but it’s from the 19th century, so it’s nearly not as old as the Correggio, so if we want to sort by date: we can’t. They are too far apart. We have to find the common ground beside both being created after myth. But we don’t have much on the creator of the illustration to help us built the story. It could be helpful”
“You know” Harry started “it’s good when people don’t know the life of an artist. I mean, I don’t want people to read my poetry and think what inspired me. Like my “cherry” poem, and think “it’s about his last girlfriend who left his heart broken’, I want people to look at my art and take it as their own. The moment I give it to the world, it’s not mine anymore. Each person has their own claim for the piece, their own meaning, their own story. I look at those pieces and I don’t wanna know if the woman in Correggio was the one that got away, I wanna look and see what this makes me feel, how this tells me a story”
Harry had a girlfriend who broke his heart? Does he always write from his own perspective? Where can she find one of his poems? She wants to know more about the boy who seemed to never look anything but a full rainbow with his colours and happiness.
“So, we only have now to work with Sunlight to finish the preparations for the grant opening. Nessa is everything okay with the catering?”
“Yes, I spoke to the cantina owner, you know, Angelo. He invited us to have dinner there today, so we can try everything he wants to bring” then opening her purse and getting a red notebook “I think we have everything covered: food, drinks, journalist to come, photographers, invitations has been send. I think the only thing lacking is the Sunlight… Harry, where the fuck is the Sunlight?”
His eyes opened and he looked a little bit frightened at Vanessa: “shit, Nessa, don’t pull those eyes on me, I always get scared. I promise: it will be here, okay?” nervously he looked at both Jeannie and Vanessa, and then at Lavignia, in a suplic for a little help.
“What time should we be at the cantina?” she changed the subject
“In a few hours, it’s only 2 pm now, maybe at 6, the music is going to start at 6 but we know nothing actually works on time here”
“Okay, so maybe let’s just revise everything? And maybe finally find the order we want to exhibit everything? Lav, do you have any idea?”
“I can only think the cliche: year and technique”
“We have been here for the last four hours searching, reading, talking about those paintings. Can we do it tomorrow” Asked Nessa, raising her arms to stretch.
“Sure, how about you two go and write all that has been discussed today while me and Harry talk business in the office upstairs?” Lovelace said, taking Harry by the hand and leading him to the stairs that stood almost in a hidden part of the gallery.
When they were long gone, Vanessa questioned if she knew that they weren’t going talk business and when she didn’t respond, she continued:
“Harry ex-girlfriend cheated on him and then left with some french preppy guy saying he wasn’t the one because she could never deal with his ways. This was almost a year ago, he was pretty depressed, to be honest, cried a lot, never wanted to sleep alone”
“Does he ever want to sleep alone?”
“You know, you are fast to judge people, when I think you are opening up to us... “ she stopped to get one of the posters for the gallery and pointed towards the front exit, needing help to put the poster in its place.
When Lavignia thought she wasn’t going to hear anymore of that, she finally continued the talk: “he hates being alone. He practically moved to Lovelace’s house for the first month, was always listening to Fleetwood Mac’s Landslide, crying. Actually, I think during those first three months he only took one person to bed and he cried during it. He started to get better when he wrote his book, travelled all around Asia, he vanished for maybe 45 days. When he got back, he was him again. Maybe a better version of himself”
“Why are you telling me all of this, you don’t even know if I’m going to stay at the gallery or I’m gonna take the other job”
“You know… I can see in your eyes, the sparkle when you talk about those pieces, when you let yourself go. But then, it's like something turns it on in your brain, almost like it’s short circuiting, and then… you stop, you blush and you give us judgmental stares”
“You know, I can’t help it”
“I know” Nessa said with a faint smile “but we can help you”
.
They were all laughing over bottles of chardonnay and pasta, Lovelace was in the middle of telling one of her many stories about the roaring 30 and all that she done back in New York. They got there half an hour ago, the music crew were beginning to put all the instruments over the small stage. The cantina was only two blocs from the gallery. They were sitting outside, in a round table with red and white tablecloth, with fairy lights to illuminate the place, trees that gave the place a certain fairy look.
When they arrived, there was a petite black woman with a sundress and braids on her hair, she recognized to be Nessa’s fiance, but she couldn’t bring herself to remember her name, no matter how much she tried.
When they sat, she was in the middle of Jeannie and Harry. She could feel his arms brushing her back every time he talked.
“Guarda se non sei la donna più bella di tutto il nord italia” said a tall man, he must be around his sixties. Very blue eyes, gray hair and charming smile. He had honeyd voice, and man, she really needs to improve her Italian if she wants to stay.
“Quindi mi ci abituo, Angelo. E come sempre: il cibo è delizioso.”
They continued to talk for a bit, Lavignia ended up losing the conversation, looking at the small stage, that now had a singer, maybe she was finally going to be introduced to some good italian song besides Volare.
“Perdona la mia mancanza di istruzione” he looked at Lav “sei nueva qui, guisto? La tua nuova ragazza, Harry? Che bella”
“Nei miel più grandi sogni, forse” God, Harry’s voice sounded even more charming in italian “Lavignia è il nuovo impiegato della galleria. Ma penso she dovremmo parlare in inglese”
“I am so sorry, my dearest” he said with a very strong accent “ I didn’t knew you didn’t speak Italian. It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m Angelino and welcome to my humble restaurant”
“Thank you so much. I know a bit of Italian, but it’s the language I speak the least and with all the noise and people talking at the same time, it gets hard to understand”
In that moment, the song beguin to play “Our music guess is starting now, if you excuse me… Jeannie, mi concede questo ballo?” taking her hand he lead her to the dancefloor, followed by Nessa and Cathy, who she finally remembered the name.
“And then they were two” Harry whispered turning to her
She took another bite of the pasta containing a moan while Harry finished his glass, getting another bottle and pouring for both of them”
“It was my bad Italian or Jeannie and Mr. Charming over there were flirting?” Harry smirked with her statement:
“You are absolutely, right. They flirt all the fucking time. It’s cute but sometimes I just want to push them towards a bedroom with a very big bed and say they can only leave after they fucked their brains out”
The more they talked, the more Harry got closer. He asked about her life before Italy and she asked about his book. She told about how she was trapped with her parents even after she graduated, so she left. He told her about his traveling through Asia, the people he met, how he went to a David Bowie show in Japan, that each city he visited brought him back to himself.
“You know, maybe...can I buy one of your books?” she asked, with a timid glint all over her eyes “I just want to know what type of art you write”
“Oh, my poetry is all about having sex and feeling sad”
“Well, I still want to. I might blush a lot and maybe won’t be able to look you in the eyes on the first few days, but then I’ll get over it”
“How about this, you dance with me and tomorrow I give you my book to read. Deal”
“Deal” shaking hands then getting up towards the dancefloor.
Putting both of his hands on her hips, Harry got closer. They could listen to the calming voice of the singer. Softly singin the chorus of the song, with his mouth close to her ear.
Lavignia could smell his cologne and feel the heat from his body, almost like he was encasing her in a protection spell from the wind.
“You seem to know the words to the song. Who is this guy?”
“Oh, he is Pino Daniele, right now he only performs at small bars, weddings. But all of his songs are so good, give him a few years and I’m sure he’ll be big, at least here in Italy. That’s for sure”
After that they were quiet for a moment, she was trying to catch the words to the song. Feeling distracted by the environment they had: fairy lights, the jazz with a popish sound to it, people dancing without a care, everything so colorful. The heat of the summer night was disguised because of the slightly cold wind that came from being close to the beach. Harry cleaned his throat to get her attention:
“I need your help. The Joan Semmel painting is so hard for me to decipher and I think I know why, she painted from such a tender female point of view. And I know I could ask anyone to help me, but I love how in love with art you are. How you lose yourself describing and talking about the pieces”
“Okay, I can help. But are you sure Jeannie and Nessa won’t be mad?”
“I already talked to Jeannie and Nessa a little bit before we had to leave the gallery, actually” the slower song came to an end but they couldn’t let each other go. There was comfort in this embrace and light conversation. Almost like they had done this a thousand times before.
“You could come by my place tomorrow. We can fix this, maybe I can read some of my poems, since you’re so curious”
“Sure, what time?”
“Around lunch? There is no hurry since it’s close to eight and I don’t think we’ll be going home anytime soon”
She had a night full of dancing and wine ahead of her. She could only wonder what would happen tomorrow when the sun came out.
Day 4: Office Love https://www.phillips.com/detail/A/NY040210/233
The sky was cloudy when Lavignia knocked on the mahogany door. The house from the outside was already beautiful, with vines all over the place, the orange color of the wall and big door.
“Hey” Harry said while opening the door, dressed in just a satin robe “I was drawing, I lost track of time. Would you like to come in?”
The door lead her to his living room, there was a big hello round couch, with red walls and a Indian tapestry. The red walls were full of art pieces - all of them pretty much leaning on the sensual side - the three ceiling to floor windows gave a beautiful view of the street and grey sky.
“Feel like you’re at your own home, okay? Please put your shoes over there” he said pointing towards a small cabinet “I’m just going to put on some clothes and I’m be back”
With Harry upstairs, she was left alone to wander through the living room. There were magazines and vinyls all over the place as well as books about a few of the artists they were going to exhibit. He was doing his homework, apparently.
But then something got hold of her attention: it was a black and white photograph. It seemed like it was an office, a typical American one. With two big windows and a rectangular desk but there, laying at the same desk, there was a barely dressed woman with her breast out and a man -completely dressed- devouring the woman’s chest.
“Do you like the work of Helmut Newton?” She heard Harry’s voice just behind her, when she turned around there he was with a graphic white t shirt full of little watermelons drawings and jeans shorts.
“You scared me, you walked down the stairs really quiet”
“I wasn’t quiet, you were just really paying attention to the photograph. So do you like Helmuts job?”
“I never heard of him ‘till today”
“Well… he is a German photographer and is known for his studies of the female body. He worked a lot with Yves Saint Laurent and that was actually how I met him, I loved his fashions editorials of the brand. Then when I was at the fine arts museum in Boston last year, I saw this photograph. He was touring with his new exhibition when I bought this one. But it only arrived last month, when the tour was done”
He was side by side with her, looking at the piece for a few seconds before continuing his explanation: “the name of this photograph is Office Love. When I had the chance to talk to him he said he wanted his photographs to arouse. And they do, because he so boldly explores his longings. But, in my personal opinion, what makes his art so sexy is his obvious belief that sex in the most important thing in the world” he looked at Lavignia “so, what do you think?”
She looked at him with wide eyes and open mouth.
“You don’t have to say anything to me, okay? But think about this painting when you’re alone. I lost the count of how many times I sat on this same couch looking at her and imaging it was me on the picture. Especially this week” did he said what she thinks he said? “Anyway, would you like to eat something before we start? I brought my book with me, thought we could eat a peanut butter sandwich and I’ll read something”. When she nodded, Harry took her hand and lead her towards the kitchen.
.
His kitchen was all black and white: black and white tiled floor, black electrical appliance with white walls. Black table with white chairs.
He made the sandwiches and got them a glass full of water. When they were halfway done, he got one his book and asked what type of poem she would like to hear.
“Anything. Just want to get to know your art”
“I’ll just open randomly then…” and when he did, his smile flared a little bit, maybe this poem represents a sad moment in his life. When she was close to telling him that there was no need for him to read if it hurted him, he cleared his throat and said: “this is The cherry sonet”
Along with the cherry trees came hopeless sorrow
The cherry color reminds me that I’ll still hurt tomorrow
Dreams of you erupted in my waking
My broken heart is still yours for the taking
When you met him, did he called you ‘cherriè’?
When you kissed him, did you remembered me?
And when you left me
Did you feel like you were finally free?
But don’t you call him baby
Don’t you dare
To call him what you used to call me
But don’t you call him baby
Don’t you dare
To call him what you used to call him
She felt tears in her eyes, that was the first time he was avoiding looking at her. Closing the book he gave her and whispered “it’s yours. Take care of it”
“Harry, I’m so sorry. No one deserves to feel this heartbreak”
“It was a long time ago. I don’t miss her, I don’t even love her anymore. But every time I remember what she done to me and how much pain I went through my hearts remembers the heartbreak.”
“I understand if you don’t wanna talk about it, but, who was she?”
“Her name doesn’t matter. She lived here for a while, I fell in love so deeply, I don’t think I was ever in love before her. It was like the world gained color and I didn’t have to be so lonely, anymore. I was still trying to figure it out where I stood in the world, and for that to work out, I tried to be the perfect match for her. I think i lost a bit of me when I lost her. But that was never truly me, you know” he paused to drink some water “ She didn’t like how I treated matters of privacy. She didn’t like the theme of the gallery and she didn’t like Lovelace either. Said she was a bad influence. So to prove her I could work with other themes, I made this work with a French gallery owner. She cheated on me with him.”
“Harry… I don’t know what to say to you. I never fell in love and don’t even remember liking someone that liked me back, you know? I don’t know much about you, but I can see that you’re good and you don’t deserve any of that”
He got her hand that was over the table and took in his. Not saying anything but it was like their conversation was happening without needing any words.
“I think we need to work on the Semmel. Do you want me to bring here or would you mind if we go to my music room. I left it there”
.
The music room consists of a place full of music instruments, more vinyls and more books. With pillows and tapestry all over the floor, there was no couch or chair. If you wanted to sit, you had to sit on the floor. On the far left of the room there was a painting with a purple bed sheet covering everything.
“Ready?” He pulled the sheet and she was left marvelous.
Joan Semmel is a New Yorker painter and writer. Most of her works are about the female point of view. But, even with the knowledge about the artist’s life, nothing could prepare Lav for the pairing ahead of her: it was a woman sitting down on her bed, relaxed and completely naked. She was touching her body and her body was golden from the sunlight. You couldn’t see her face, she was painting from her point of view.
“You know I can write about any perspective but I’m having trouble with this one because it shows such a intimate view of the woman’s body. I called Lovelace to help me as soon as we got the thing but she said “darling I’m too old to remember the feeling of looking down at a younger version of my body”
Lavignia couldn’t mutter a word, she was too much hypnotized by the work. And also jealous: she doesn’t know what it is to be naked on her own bed just taking in her own body. She didn’t knew that could be so much freedom when you’re “normal”. Because one thing is too see Bowie and Jagger preaching sexual freedom. She thought it was made for the ones that had an unusual life. But here she was meeting people that had no problem with showing themselves to her.
“So, what do you think?” Harry asked her.
“She has a classic technique of color mixing and…”
“Darling I know all of that part. I need your take about the painting, what’s the feeling behind that and what it compares to true life, and then, together, we can figure it out how to fit inside the theme, how to display it and finally decide the story we are going to tell with Love and Sex because, I’m sorry, my dove, but we have such an unique gallery and exhibit that I don’t want to waste it with cliche display options, I know we only have two days but if we think something NOW, we have tomorrow and the entire morning of saturday to fix it.”
It was too much. It was too much. It was too much.
This isn’t right. This isn’t right. This isn’t right.
So Lavignia almost screamed without having second thoughts:
“That’s not right, I can’t go on and talk about that! She had her thoughts while doing this piece, but there must exist this lack of control when people make such works. Life HAS to have control, Harry. YES it’s a wonderful piece but I don’t feel anything while looking at it”
“You’re lying. I can tell when you’re looking at me like that” Harry said with a sad yet angry look upon his eyes “your problem is that you never let yourself lose control. You don’t think I notice... but I do. You give everyone the same staring eyes, judgmental eyes when you remember about your ‘lack of control’. When Jeannie asked us to give you a chance, I went with an open heart. I just undressed my soul to you while reading that poem, I thought you were different from her, she judged me and left me. And here you are judging me. How many days till you walk away from the gallery? When we are on the day of the opening and you leave us with all of the work it should be also yours? We are a family down at the gallery and you have no right to fuck that up with your precious control” his voice started to raise “but let me tell you one thing: one day you are going to have a cock so deep in you that you’ll feel it on your tummy, fingers messing with your button and a tongue down your throat and you’re going to find down there is more to life than your precious control”
He turned his back and finally said: “Get out of my house, I’ll call Lovelace and ask her to fix the Semmel for me. I don’t think I will go to the gallery until the opening, I can’t look at you when you’re looking at me like I’m sick. If you want to stay, we all are going to welcome you with open arms. If you still want to learn how to let go of your prejudice like you said it to me yourself: I’m here. But as long as you are judging us and messing with people's hard work: I can’t look at you.” He gave her one final look and opened his mouth one last time: “do me a favor and only go Saturday if you are willing to try. If that’s not what you want it’s not fair to you to continue to suffer what our daily works entails. And it’s not fair to us to be kept on the fence if you’ll stay or not. And it’s not fair to me to be lead on and think I have a chance of you being mine”
And with that he left the room. Letting Lavinia alone with her own thoughts. She had to get of his house. She need to talk with someone.
She needed Jeannie Lovelace.
.
She knocked one time.
Nothing.
Another.
Nothing.
One more time and Lavignia would go home and pack.
The door was opened.
“Darling, are you alright?” Said Jeannie Lovelace. She was with a beautiful black silk skirt, barefoot and a simple white shirt: “I thought you and Harry were going to spend the day together. Come in, come in”
She went inside still paralyzed. Jeannie lead her towards the nearest couch (the heart shaped one) and said: “Laviginia, do you want a hug?”
She hugged the old lady that smelled like lavender. She felt at home. She cried.
“What happened? Do I need to go and kill Harry?”
“I think I’m the one that needs the killing” and so she begging the story. From the time they met, to all the flirst, how Harry tried to help her to feel at home and more comfortable with her own skin and nature. Told about the flirting and the night before. And then… told her about what happened just a few minutes ago. When she was done, Jeannie looked at her and finally started to talk:
“Lav, I don’t think he was right to say those things, but I don’t think you were right to judge so harshly. You know, we are what life made us” she paused “I can’t talk about you, I just met you. I hired you not only because of your knowledge and because we needed someone with your background, I could easily get somenome from Rome for that. But it was because I trust my instincts and it felt like there was a little fairy whispering to me ‘she’s the one you need’. I don’t know how much do you want to open up, but I’m here”
Lavignia opened her mouth without even thinking “do you know why I was in Paris? Because after I graduated my father told me that now that I could say I was educated and fulfilled my ‘feminist dream’ I should go back to real life and marry. He wanted me to marry the neighbor, by the way. When I said no, he just told me to leave. I still had a bit of money and one of my classmates was French, so that’s where I went.”
“You know, for someone that is so afraid of life, you are quite brave”
“So I’ve been told” she paused “but… how will this fix the shit Ihave done to him?”
“My darling, he is no stranger to heartbreak. He is a free spirit, yes, but he longs to have someone to be free with him. There was something about you that made him feel enchanted, the same way he was some time ago with that girl… but she wasn’t the one for him”
“But I have done the same thing: I was quick to me judgmental with him”
“There is a huge quote by the one and only Anaïs Nin that goes like this: ‘You live like this, sheltered, in a delicate world, and you believe you are living. Then you read a book… or you take a trip… and you discover that you are not living, that you are hibernating. The symptoms of hibernating are easily detectable: first, restlessness. The second symptom (when hibernating becomes dangerous and might degenerate into death): absence of pleasure. That is all. It appears like an innocuous illness. Monotony, boredom, death. Millions live like this (or die like this) without knowing it. They work in offices. They drive a car. They picnic with their families. They raise children. And then some shock treatment takes place, a person, a book, a song, and it awakens them and saves them from death. Some never awaken’. Do you understand that, darling?”
“I do. How do you remember so much of this big quote?”
“Because it was thanks to this book that I woke up. You see, my family had same expectations for me. But imagine that 40 years ago… women barely could go to university. It was - still is, sadly - a man’s world. But, day by day, we can get our space. And that’s in everything, including sex. Don’t be ashamed to own your power. Own your body. Give your life everything what it deserves. Think of you first. And… when you find out who you are and if that person wants people like us as your friends, will be here. If you want Harry to be with you, he will be. And he will take you on your craziest adventures because come on… he’s an aquarius”
“I’m a Libra”
“It’s a good match” Lovelace laughed “would you like some wine? I was about to drink some rosé?”
One hour later they had bruschetta and one bottle of wine almost finished. She was listening to Lovelace talk about her adventures and, unlike last Monday, she was lovin’ it. That woman had such good stories.
Maybe was the wine but Lavignia finally had the courage to ask: “Do you think Harry will forgive me?”
“Darling, the moment you said yes to the wine, I know he will forgive you”
Lavignia woke up with the rays of the sun hitting her face. She looked at the window and it was completely opened. Didn’t she close it last night?
After all the drinking and talking with Jeannie, she called her a taxi so she didn’t have to ride the bus alone and slightly intoxicated.
Looking at the clock she had beside the mattress on the floor - she really didn’t have time to make her complete move just yet so her small loft was quite simple: off white walls, a dresser, a kitchen, her mattress and a little door to the bathroom with a a bathtub. There were boxes all over the floor, the Sunday after the opening she would fix everything, maybe paint the walls and get a few posters: one of Stevie Nicks, one of Frida Khalo and one of Bridget Bardot: her most divine life examples.
Looking at her door, she saw her blue knee high boots and her purse and inside her purse she could see just a little bit of the light pink and blue book cover.
Maybe … she could?
She really didn’t want to get up so she crawled towards her purse and got the book. She could imagine his reaction to her crawling for something of his.
Back to her bed, Lavignia was lost looking at the book cover, trying to catch all of the details. One side was blue and the other pink. The front cover he had the name “Fine Line” and there was a drawing of him laying down, naked. But you couldn’t see nothing, just the contour lines. Nothing else. At the back of the book there was a simple quote:
This is a story about my journey.
The one where I found and lost love.
But I found myself.
Do you know who you are?
As soon as the book was opened, Lavignia found the dedication, it was for his mother and Jeannie - who he calls his American mother. Then, there was a list of 15 poems and prose with the number of pages next to it: the cherry tree sonet, I saw an angel; from the hallway I write you this poem; don’t call me baby, again; the fruits of your body; the lights; golden as the sun; adoration; sex is medicine; summertime and butterflies; from Tokyo, with love; the little gallery.
What was better? Reading the book from the beginning or do just like Harry did not even 24 hour ago and choose randomly. Lavignia went with the later. This time it was a little prose:
Adoration
I like the love language our eyes share. When we are so together laying in bed with the sounds of the city having a conversation behind the windows. We are so close that I can feel our lashes touch. Do you know I adore you?
There are words you can’t say yet. And I understand, darling. You don’t have to say you love me. But I have to tell you: I adore you.
Please, let me adore you
I adore you
I love you
Reading this made her understand more about him. Lovelace wasn’t lying when she said Harry feels everything to its maximum. He was so pure when it comes to the matter of the heart. She felt so guilty for how she treated him. But she knows that at the time she was a different person than she is now, just a day later. All thanks to Jeannie and her Anaïs Nin quote. Wanting to read another, she opened the book in a random page, this time it was a poem:
The fruits of your body
From the tangerine smell of your body
To the dreams I have of your lipstick
It’s strawberry lick, isn’t?
From the way you hold my body
To the way you make me love it
It’s sultriness, isn’t?
From taste of watermelon
That slips all the way down your legs
I suck it all up. Don’t I?
From the way you make me grow
To the way you make me shiver
I’m at your feet
Yours.
Yours while you’ll have me.
Yours.
As long as the fruit season lasts.
I hope it lasts forever
The more she read, hotter she felt. It was never like this. She ripped her dress off. She ripped her underwear off. She wanted to get off. For the first time.
But how?
And then she remembered something a certain curly haired man with a mustache told her: “think about it when you’re alone”.
That painting. That damn painting. All of the art pieces she looked this week. The smell of him. The way his body moved. The way he looked at her. She was on fire. The sunlight coming from the window ignited the fire on her body. She was finally on fire.
Looking down at her body, knowing she was treasure map, ready to be discovered. So her journey begins:
A light touch to her neck, with the tip of her finger. The heat grows inside. Her breast so full of desire: she grabbed them. Massages them. Pinching each one of her nipples. Changed the pressure. Moaned and arched her body. She needed more but she didn’t want to stop her exploring, so she raised to her knees, getting one of her pillows.
Right between her legs. With her hands getting acquainted with herself she rolled her hip and thought of green eyes watching her. Would he have a smile on his face? She hopes so. Because she is so fucking proud of herself. She was a queen in search of the pleasure she never had the right before.
Her body. Her pleasure. Her orgasm.
When she got tired from riding the pillow she laid down again. Her hands went to her heat. And she touched and touched and touched.
And then… sunlight. She was covered in light. She was the sunlight. Her body reactions is like a morning light: beautiful and so unique.
When she had finally calmed herself she looked around. And something just clicked.
Getting up and taking a shower was the first thing she needed to do. Then… Lavignia would run as fast as she could to the gallery: she knew what to do about the opening.
Day 6: perfume https://fineartamerica.com/featured/perfume-1910-luigi-russolo.html
Lavignia was going to have a syncope. She was sure of it. The sun was finally setting but it was still hot. Hotter than ever. And if she didn’t hurry she was going to be late for the opening.
The silk white dress Lovelace gave her was from her own wardrobe. “From my peach days” she called. The dress had thin straps and it reached mid thigh with a fringe assuming the rest of the outfit till it reached her ankle. It was a true fastidious dress from the 30s. And she felt in character.
Just the day before Laviginia stayed back at the gallery till almost 3am together with Jeannie and Vanessa (and Cathy, she got there with dinner for them and stayed to help).
It was hard but the moment she told her idea, Jeannie and Vanessa fell in love with it. It was original and so in touch with everything the gallery stood for.
Sitting on the bus she looked at the the street. It was almost night time and people were starting to begin their Saturdays festivities. Lavignia felt her stomach turn and turn, the closer she got to the bus stop the more her nerves were making her crazy.
She was going to do the presentation. Yes, that was Jeannie and/or Harry’s job. But well… it would be a miracle if he showed up today and Lovelace said it was all Lavignia, so she is the one that making all the talking.
Getting out of the bus was easy. Finding her around the streets that lead to Mattina ed Estasi was easy. There was music and people talking loudly. From the window of an old building she could see the shadow of a couple making love.
But the moment she saw the red Harley, nothing was easy. Her heart was beating fast. Harry was already there. He probably saw the way they fixed everything. Just the paintings with a small description to it. The order didn’t offer any technical logic. Maybe he was mad. Maybe he was curious. Maybe he was just as anxious as she.
But Lavignia knew she wouldn’t get her answer if she just stood there. She had to walk through those doors and face everything.
She was ready.
.
The moment she was inside the gallery she felt so proud of herself. Looking at all the pieces circling the space. Forming a cycle. A love and sex cycle. And four of those pieces where on the center stage: first is Sunlight, followed by Correggio and the Aphrodite, the gods and goodness deserved to be together. And, finally, the one she was so afraid on her second day of work but became one of Lav’s favorite art pieces to ever exist: the women with the black stockings.
When she dressed today, she was inspired by the painting. But, instead of black, it was white. White lace and see through lingerie her friend from France gave her but she never had the courage to wear - till today - with white stocking. A little innocent gif, if Harry was willing to open when the night is over.
And by the way… where is Harry? The opening was only for another hour and she knows she was the last one here.
“Oh, you’re finally here. Good” she heard Nessa’s low voice. Dressed in a black glittery jumpsuit with wide legs and a heart shaped cut in the chest area. Looking like the disco goodness she was “Lovelace was getting worried. You look beautiful, by the way” giving her a small kiss on the cheek she continued “I have to go and see if all of the catering is ready but Lovelace and Harry are upstarts. Any second now… okay?”
And she was alone again. But not for long.
She could smell him before she could actually see him. The same vanilla and tobacco. But if Lavignia thought she was feeling a little bit woozy with his smell. Nothing could prepare her for the outfit he choose: white trousers and tank top with a white blazer. Something John Travolta would wear. He had a bit of scruff but his mustache was still the first thing she noticed in his face, together with the pink sunglasses.
Harry was looking at her, frozen at the top of the copper stairs.
“We match” she said about the all white assembly they both were wearing.
“You came”
And he gave her a small smile. Maybe not everything was lost.
.
Even with their little exchange, Harry hasn’t talked to her. The opening was keeping everybody busy. There was photographers and journalist to entertain. A lot of people from the villa, too.
From the corner of her eye, she could see Jeannie in her bright pink spaghetti dress talking to Angelino. He was wearing a blue velvet suit. They fitted together.
The clock read 8:47 pm, more 13 minutes and she would go to the little stage and do the presentation. She was nervous. Lavignia was in need of a drink.
As if he heard her thoughts, Harry got closer to her for the first time in the evening with a champagne glass:
“You look nervous. Everything is perfect, you can relax” he said, with a faint smile. Up close she could see the birds tattooed in his chest “and don’t you look quite dazzling tonight”
“Thanks. You look quite handsome yourself” accepting the glass and taking a big gulp, her shoulders finally relaxing a bit “I’m nervous about the presentation”
“Don’t be. Lovelace always dazzles everyone. And I’m quite curious to find out why she chose this order to present the works”
He didn’t know.
“She didn’t. I did. And I’m doing the presentation. I’m so nervous” Harry looked at her with shocked eyes. Then he looked around. Then back at her, finally taking his glasses off and looking right inside her eyes:
“Then can you help me make sense of everything?”
“I think I’ll let you find out with the rest of the people here”
“Why are you teasing me so much? I wouldn’t do that”
“No, you would do worse” she looked at him with a glint inside the honey color of her eyes “actually, I think you will do worse to me, one way or another”
“Depends, if you’re a good girl then it won’t exist any teasing. So come on… enlighten me. Tell me why everything is organized like this”
“It’s a story. And that’s everything I’m gonna tell you right now” even with their light conversation, Lavignia felt like there was an elephant in the room, so she finally decided to talk about it “can we talk? You know… about what happened?”
“After this, maybe?”
“Why aren’t you upset with me? I thought I would have to get on my knees and beg for you to talk to me today”
“You stayed. The moment you decided to stay, I decided to give you a little bit of my heart. But after the presentation, we can steal a bottle of champagne and go to the office upstairs” he took the bit of her hair that was loose and fixed behind her ear “about getting on your knees: you still can, darling” smiling he gave her his own glass “and there is my favorite embarrassed little girl. Now drink, Jeannie is going to the stage right now, your presentation will start soon.
The anticipation she felt about the promise of an “later” with Harry was only bigger than the wheels that were turning inside her stomach. Lovelace was getting up on the stage, god she was going to die.
“Ladies, gentlemen and everything that is in between, good night and welcome to our new exhibition: Love and Sex” people were clapping and shouting “Before telling the story behind those pieces, I wanna thank Angelino, from Villaggio dell’amore, for making such a delicious dinner for us. Also I would like to thank Vanessa, she works for the gallery since 1975 and since she got here, we only got better the same goes to Harry “she said posting her glass towards Nessa then Harry “you not only came here and invested in our little gallery but you gave us so much more, most of the pieces from today wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you. You had this idea and with our little help, we created this magic. So thank you” he raised his glass and say something in Italian that she couldn’t quite pinpoint with all the clapping.
“Now, not long ago our family got a new member. She came here with her doubts but the moment she allowed the pleasure behind the art envolve her completely, she changed this exhibit for the better and today she’s going to be the one to talk to you. Graduated in Arts in Communication and my new adoptive daughter: Lavignia”
Harry gave her a small pat on the but like saying “you’re up”.
When Lavignia climbed the three steps to the little stage, she could feel like she was shaking. When she hugged Lovelace, she was shaking. The moment she saw all of those people faces, she was shaking. But when she saw his smile, she wasn’t shaking. He gave her peace of mind.
“Thank you, Jeannie, for the lovely introduction” he gave her a not “Welcome to Love and Sex, today, we are going to tell you a little story”
“From the start of the day, we have this huge Sunlight, a piece from Joan Semmel. Sunlight here isn’t only the signal of a new day that begins. When we talk about Love and Sex, we also talk about the discover of yourself. Know your pleasure, own your pleasure. Make love to your own body. You will never get the meaning of true love or sex, unless you become acquainted with yourself. Inside out. That’s what Sunlight is about: is the vision of the artist upon her own body. When she loves what she see and knows each part of her; what makes her quiver and long. When she makes her own body shake with love and sex is when she is ready to discover the world. Because the moment you understand yourself, you can understand others without any prejudice or pride. The moment you allow yourself is when you can finally deliver yourself to the fogs of pleasure, so well represented by Correggio’s Jupiter. Because here Jupiter is desire, is temptation, it’s the deliver. It’s when you embrace the feeling of bliss. That’s actually why we put gods and goodness together, because when you look at Aphrodite, you want to be inside the piece, you want to be this woman that not only represents beauty but also love. It’s when the pleasure you search it’s at its peak. Orgasm. High. Whatever word you might want to call it”
Harry was looking at her with attentive eyes. A proud smile. A promise of an later. Everything about the way he looked at her made her feel anything but ashamed for the things she was saying. She had a speech prepared. But she remembers nothing of it because the moment she was on stage nothing else mattered beside her feelings towards the pieces, at the end everything is about feelings.
“And then, we finally have The woman with the black stockings; because sometimes you have the chance to find people whose intensity matches yours and you just want that person. You dream and you desire, because now, sex is not only sex but is also love. You fuck at 10 am but have slow sex in the evening. Whatever this person wants, is theirs. You are opening yourself. Not only literally but metaphorically, as well. And you can only hope this person doesn’t get scared only because you’re so open”
The whole moment she was talking, people were walking around the artworks. But now, they were all looking at her. Now was the time to close her explanation and kiss her man, the same man that was so attentively looking at her and helping her since the first day.
“If love is a prose, sex is poetry. From all the artworks I just told you all about it, they all share the same theme but are shown in a different way. From the fog that encapsulates the young woman in Jupiter to the woman with her open legs showing to her lover that everything that is hers is also his. Giving him the privilege to see her in such a tender yet sensual way. Because love and sex are privileges. You can have one without the other, but together they are powerful. Is a privilege because you can’t find that in others so easily. The ones that can see what pleasure is all about, that there is no shame in longing, in wanting, in quivering for someone but also recognize than when you do it all of this with love: Is irreplaceable”
Looking around she saw people with tears in their eyes. Lavignia was so proud of herself.
“Is a privilege because not everybody can find that. A few people spend all of their lives without knowing the true pleasures of the flesh and others spend their lives wanting to be loved, waiting for someone to fit inside of them just like a puzzle. But, sometimes, all you need is you. The world is quite boring but some people know how to make it colorful, just like those artist that shows us the most inherent sentiment of the human race with the most primal desire of the human race.
This, is love and sex. Enjoy your night. Thank you.”
Lavignia could hear the applause. Lovelace went to give her a kiss on the cheek, Nessa and Cathy were hugging her, welcoming her to the family. Journalist wanted to talk to to her. She could see cameras flashing and unknown faces congratulating her. But her focus was in looking for him, and she found him: at the top of the stairs, with a bottle on his hand, he gave her a nod, pointing toward the office door. Lovelace, that was standing right beside her told her to go.
.
The office had baby blue and white walls. That was the first thing she noticed. There was a bathroom and a big window showing the hot Italian summer night. In the middle of the room was a desk and sitting on that same desk, there was a man picking at his nails with a champagne bottle next to him. When he heard the door, he gave her a smile and stood up.
“I thought you were going to ditch me”
“No. Just had a lot of people wanting to talk. Sorry”
“Nothing to be sorry for” he took a step closer to her “can I just start by saying how I’m so fucking proud of you? You gave such a nice speech and you made the theme so much better than what we initially thought. Cheers to that” he gave her a small smile and the bottle. Taking from his hands and drinking a big gulp, the sweet taste of the champagne that had notes of cherry filled her tastes buds. She gave him the bottle back so he could drink and asked him:
“What was the message you took from everything?”
“That love and sex is to let yourself go. As you said, it’s a privilege… and what a nice privilege” they were standing in the middle of the room, the sound of the party downstairs was nothing compared to the silent conversation that was happening behind every word they exchanged.
Harry thought Lavignia looked beautiful with the lights from the night sky illuminating her beautiful face. It was only then and the moon. Their only witness was the moon. He wanted to get a paper and write everything he was thinking. Maybe he would named Her and the moon and would say something among the lines: even the moon takes chances in betting that our love begins tonight. Strong or weak. Happy or sad.
But they still had so much to talk. So Harry decided to begin: “why were you so harsh to judge? Not only me but everybody here, actually”
“I think I was intimidated by you. You came telling about your weekend and I could only think ‘he has done more in three days that I have done my entire life. And I don’t know I think when you mix that with the unknown, I ended up misjudging you. More than once. Even when you were always so open to me” she got the champagne, drinking some more “I’m so ashamed for how I treated everybody here. You and Nessa and even Lovelace that first night, drinking everything and passing out.”
“You don’t have to be ashamed, we are family here. And family forgives, right?” he pinched her nose “And yeah, I understand what you mean, we tend to fear the unknown. Were you really discussed by me? And the fact I like a little bit of everything?”
“I think I was jealous,actually. And I hated myself for the feeling you gave me since last Monday when I saw you walk through the door. But I don’t think I was actually discussed, you know? Not at you, at least. Maybe at myself. It was hard to understand all the feelings I was having and also understand that feeling all of this is okay”
“I thought you were beautiful, you know? I was captivated by you since the first day. And we were always on and off during the week. There were days I thought you were finally understanding us and days I was sad because you looked at us as if we were monsters... exept when you start talking about art. That’s beautiful. You lose yourself in it.”
She was so closer to him now, playing with his rings. Harry noticed little lines on her forehead, like she was thinking about something.
“You seem like you want to ask me something”
“Do you still want to get to know me? Or have I missed my chance?” He laughed at that.
“Of course I wanna get to know you.”
In that moment, both of them let go a relieved breath. It was crazy to think about how much could change in one week. Lavignia always thought you could only feel like she was feeling was you know someone for years, but sometimes you have the privilege.
It was a brand new start, the Sunlight was a reborn for her. And now they were on the same page. They were both open. They both wanted a real chance.
“Will you be patient with me?” She asked him
“Always.”
“When are you going to kiss me?”
“When I’m finally inside of you”
“And when is that?”
“In a few hours from now, when the party has died down a little bit”
“I was thinking you were going to kiss me now.”
“Well... we can do other stuff, you know?”
“Like the painting at your house? It’s quite sensual”
“Look at you. How do you managed to be able to talk like this in just two days”
“You can’t see it because of the lack of light but I’m blushing right now but... you are right. I had to discover myself. Actually one of your poems helped me, and all of those paintings, they created a good picture in my head.”
“Are you saying you got off to one of my poems?”
She nodded her head. Affirmative.
“Which one?”
“The one about the fruits”
“Fuck... you are making real hard for me not to kiss you right now”
“Why don’t you?”
“I’m going to. Just not now. If I’m going to kiss you I’m going to do it right. Laying on my bed, with me inside of you. But it doesn’t mean I can’t do something to help you. I can see you’re squishing your thighs.” getting closer to her, he looked right inside her eyes, making her feel dizzy.
“Tell me, darling. Ever heard about voyeurism?” Harry asked with his deep voice just above a whisper.
She was feeling dizzy. His perfume was increasing all of her nerves. The smell of vanilla marking her melt while the notes of tobacco was igniting a fire within herself she never felt before”
He got closer again and grabbed her hips “I’m not going to ask again... ever hear of voyeurism?”
She nodded her head. A negative.
“Well...it’s when you have satisfaction of watching people engage in sexual situations” he said in a low whisper close to her ear, she was shaking. Harry was walking her backwards till her back was against the desk “I would love to see you hump this pretty table till you get lost in the feeling of a delicious high. And then I’ll take your wet panties from you and put it on my front pocket, close to the part that is aching the most to get to know you” he raised her to sit on the desk, opening her legs in a position her clit was resting on the cold and hard surface “then we are going to mingle. People are going to come to you and talk about how good your speech was. Cathy and Nessa are going to want to take photographs. Poor them, little they know my little girl is without any underwear, wet and waiting for us to get home” he started to help her move her hips on the desk. The first few waves of pleasure passing through her body like little flicks of energy “and then I’ll take you home and fuck you properly for the first time in your life, would you like that, darling?” She nodded her head and he gave her a peck in one of her eyelids “good. But, for all of that to happen I need you to do me a favor and come”
“Won’t people hear me?”
“And what’s the matter of that. We are not working anymore. We are enjoying a very sensual party, just like everyone else. And I can promise what we are doing here... everybody down there had done at least two times worse” she was hypnotized by him and his damn perfume “fuck it, right?”
Fuck it
Lavignia felt her hips moving more and more. Her toes were turning inside her boots. Harry was whispering dirty nothings close to her ear, leaving light kisses across all of her neck and chest. Holding her tights open, helping her move, sometimes moving his hips closer to her just so she could feel the promise of later.
Harry let go her trembling body so he could watch her. Taking two steps back he admired her, her body was moving like an erotic dance, one of the straps of her dress was falling of her shoulder, showing him a little bit of the left breast that was covered by the thin fabric of the bra. And then… that was when he saw it: the white stockings.
“Aren’t you a work of art.. I wish I could paint you right now, make Shiele quiver with jealousy that he didn’t get to capture you”
She could feel her orgasm approaching, the little flicks of pleasure growing stronger the harder she rolled her hips on the hardwood table.
“When we get home, I’m going to spread you open, I’m going to kiss and lick every single part of you. I might have to sell my soul just to not come to soon because my body it’s so hot for you. So so hot. Come on, little darling. Come for me”
And she came.
Like an avalanche starting from between her legs and making her whole body treble, forming incoherent words and losing its strength. But before she could fall off the desk, his body was back, holding her close and telling her to breath. Taking care of her.
When she came down completely of her high he took her panties off. She was wide eyes when he smelled and said to himself something among the lines of “delicious”.
This was only the start of tonight.
.
The wind was hitting Lavignia in the face, getting closer to his neck. His Harley was running around the Italian streets. She no longer felt ashamed for the thoughts going round her head in comparison to their first ride together.
After their little encounter at the office they went downstairs holding hands. Getting funny looks and a thumbs up from Nessa and Cathy and a smile from Lovelace.
They danced with people, looked at all of the artwork together for the billionth time, Harry introduced her to a designer that was at the opening and a few other people. When they noticed it was close to 2 am and people were leaving.
They stayed to help to dismount the stage and be sure nothing happened to the pieces but Lovelace told them to go home.
So now it was 3 am and Lavignia was taking advantages of her position behind Harry to stuck her nose in his hair and take in his smell. Maybe she needed to see a doctor. She was addicted to his perfume.
When they finally reached his place, Harry gave her his key to open a little gate so he could park the motorcycle. She noticed that he had a very yellow BMW.
“Not that I don’t like the Harley but how come you never drive this beauty?”
“The gallery is so close from my place that I don’t see a reason why. But, I’ll take you for a ride anyday. How ‘bout that?”
She nodded her head while still looking at the car but the moment Harry touched her back, indicating to go in through the backdoor, she stopped everything to follow him.
They were back to the black and white kitchen. Harry took of his white blazer, now only with the white tank top and the trousers. She could finally see his tattoos now. The naked mermaid, the ship. Lavignia was so hypnotized by him that she didn’t move from the door.
“See something that you like, darling?” He asked putting the pink glasses on the table together with his blazer. Lavignia didn’t answer anything, closing the door, she walked towards him. Taking off her shoes and putting her purse on the table as well.
“Can I get you anything?” He asked “some wine” she hugged his middle and nodded her head in a negative “or maybe water? Something to eat?” She noticed his smirk, he was living to tease her, but it was a week long teasing “little darling, if you don’t say anything I’m just going to keep asking. Put those pretty red lips up to good use and tell me what you want”
“You made me a promise early tonight…”
“Hey, come on… to be shy on me now” he was so close, the heat of his body could be felt in her back, he was closer and closer till… oh, he was already hard?
“You said you were going to kiss me…”
“I was going to kiss when…”
“You…” she could do it, she could say it “when you are finally inside of me”
“That’s my girl, come up”
He lead her towards the stairs. Lavignia wanted to see every artwork he had around the house but she was too focused on him (and his damn perfume). Soon enough they were in front of a dark wood door.
His room had light pink walls, tall floor to ceiling windows and in the middle of the room a huge bed with a canopy. He told her to feel comfortable and she went to sit on the bed with her feet barely touching the ground.
“Don’t you look pristine sitting all straight and proper. You can get more comfortable darling, I swear the bed isn’t going to bite you”
He was kneeling in front of her, with both arms at each side of her body.
“Why are you on your knees?”
“Because I’m going to pray”
“I didn’t know people prayed before having sex” she joked
“Darling you can’t be serious” she laughed and he was stuck admiring her but then she stopped at looked at the painting he had on the wall
“Is that the 1910 painting by Luigi Russollo?”
“Yeah, I like the way he uses his synesthesia to make the most sensual paintings” he kissed her cheekbones and started making his way down her neck, using his hands to fiddle with her dress. But he wasn’t done yet, we wanted to make her blush a little more “so… can I begging my prayer?”
When she nodded her head he attacked her left breast over the dress, she was lightly moaning and he was getting dizzy. She was the best type of drug, every little thing seemed to me a new feeling for her and he wanted to watch her while she discovered more and more of the pleasures of the flash.
“It’s too hot” she said is a whisper
“Can I take of your dress?” Giving him a small yes, she helped him take of her dress, now, only in her bras and white stocking. She looked like a goodness, deserving its place with next with the Aphrodite back in the gallery.
Harry used his hands to make her lay and opened her legs. He they started to kiss her legs, going up to the inside of her thigh, when she could feel his breath, he went to her other leg and made the same path.
When he felt like both of her legs were full of loving, he kissed just above her little point of pleasure, just to see how she would react. She whispered a little “stay” and he couldn’t wait anymore, he has to pray, he couldn’t delay it anymore so he just gave a full lick from her opening to her mound. Playing with her labia but never touching her clit, he wanted her swollen for him. Anxious for his lips, longing for his cock.
Using the tip of his fingers, he was playing with her opening, but never actually penetrating her. When he thought she was getting loud enough, he started to suck at her clit the same moment his middle finger entered her. Using a come here motion, he found the button inside of her.
Lavignia felt like she was in heaven, she was being adored by this man’s mouth and hands. She wanted more, she needed more. Trying to move her hips towards his mouth to get an even better feeling.
Normally, Harry would hold the person down, but Lavignia looked like an angel and she had such a sweet taste. He just couldn’t so he gave her everything he could and let her take anything she wanted from his mouth and fingers.
It didn’t take long till she was a trembling mess. Her release was sweet like honey and the most enjoyable thing to watch.
While she was calming down from her high, Harry got up and took of his shirt, he was sweating too much. Then he help her up the bed and started to kiss her eyelids and comp his finger through her hair.
“Hi” she said
“Hey” he gave her a peck on the tip of her nose “do you want anything? Maybe water?”
“No” she used her leg to press the tent that was appearing in his crotch area “I want what you promised me”
“Are you sure? We can do it tomorrow, I don’t mind if you’re tired. You came pretty hard”
“Please, I want to feel you”
“Okay”
He was hers. Anything she wanted, he would give to her. So, her wish was his command. He stood on his knees and opened his pants never taking his eyes off of her.
Lavignia was feeling her body burn so much. She was close to the point of hyperventilating, the moment she saw his member spread free.
“No underwear?”
“It gets in the way”
When they were both fully naked (with the exception of her white stocking, “this one stays” he told her) and he was on top of her, he took one of her hands and asked if she has done that before.
“A few times, almost five years ago”
“I’ll go slow. Please, hold my hand and tell me if it hurts too badly”
When she nodded, Harry got hold of himself and started to massage her with it, her clit, her labia, trying to get himself wet with her moisture. That’s when he remembered “on that nightstand I have a lube, it’s water based and smells like orange. Would you mind if I used a bit on both of us? It might help to ease myself into you”
“Sure” she said with har breath starting to pick up again. So Harry for the bottle and warned her it might be a bit cold.
Using the gel with both of his fingers, he got in easy, making the same come here movements and sliding his finger out with a “pop” sound.
When he went to pass on his own dick, she stopped him and with a shy voice asked if she could do it for him. And he said yes.
So she used both of her hands to be able to get his entire shaft and massaged him, up and down, squeezing when she got to the base and using the top of her finger when it was the head, all following his instructions.
“Stop” he told her “if you continue I’ll come before we even start and I don’t think I can’t handle anymore”
So, they were back to the same position as before, he on top of her, both of her legs were intertwined with his, his left hand on her right hand and they mouths finally close to each other.
When he started to enter her, she felt a small burn. It wasnt bad, but she isn’t didn’t knew if it was good. He was slowly easing himself and after a while she decided that it was a good type of burn.
When Harry was all the way in he finally said: “I’m gonna kiss you now, okay?”
It was a weird first kiss, but it was perfect. He was inside of her in more ways than he could explain. People say that when you have sex, even if it’s a one night stand, your essence connects with person, and they were connecting in a way that it was rare in any galaxy.
Then he started to move, painfully slow, they didn’t have anywhere to go, that was no reason to rush.
“You know, it’s not going to be good for my ego if I come too soon” he told her
“After a week of reading I was hope for you to blow my mind not to blow your shot too soon”
“Heeeet, that’s mean”
He was loving it, he was having sex with the most amazing girl and they were still able to have that banter he loved so much. God, he was going to fall in love with her. He could feel it.
After that, they let their bodies to the talking. She was moaning and so was he. It was sweet. It was hot. It was everything love and sex is all about.
When they were done, Harry got them water from the kitchen and a banana. Then she wanted to do it again, so they did it, this time against the bedpost. When they were done, they talked for hours, finally getting to know each other. They feel asleep the sun was already high in the sky and there wasn’t any worry or shame for her neither any pain for him. They were cured and were ready to begin another journey, this time with one another, another day, another sunlight.
Day 7: a balcony in Italy https://www.saatchiart.com/art/Paintings-Bedroom-Balcony-In-Italy/1131921/4490457/view
She woke up alone inside the bed, completely naked with the exception of the satin sheets. There was a single sunflower resting on top of the tiny desk next to the bed with a simple paper that read:
Good morning, bunny
Get out of the room and take a left. You will find a round wooden stairs that will lead you to the balcony. I’m waiting you for breakfast.
Getting a purple robe that smelled just like Harry she went upstairs, finding a suspended garden with all types of flowers she could think. There was an old table that looked from 1930, on top of the same table there was fruits and pancakes. The sunlight was shining from the big balcony, letting the Italian summer fill their lungs and eyes.
She found Harry sitting on one of the chairs, wearing a green and white striped shirt with washed blue jeans. She could see he had shaven because there was no scruff but his mustache was still there. Just from looking at it she feels a chill running down from her back till it reaches her most private parts at the memory of the same mustache passing across all of her body in his always there teasing manner.
Harry didn’t see Lav at first, but he did listened to her footsteps. Writing something in his journal, not touching his food. Waiting for her.
“You know... how long are you planning on staring at me? Should I get naked to make it better for you?” He said with a smile on his face, finally looking at her with a shine inside his eyes. One that hasn’t left since they made up yesterday.
“Sorry I didn’t...”
“Bunny you can stare at me all you want. But I bet you’re hungry, so why don’t you come here and eat with me?”
Lavignia started to walk towards Harry but he stopped her:
“Naked” that made her pause all of her movements. “Take of your robe love, and come and sit on my lap. Let’s eat together, shall we? I wanna be close to you” Messing with her tangled curls she looked around and at the balcony: what if someone sees me?
But it only took one look at Harry to know that there is no problem because even if someone sees them: fuck it, right? Isn’t that what she learned from this crazy week?
So she took off her robe, trying to look Harry in the eyes, no matter how much she wanted to look at the ground. Walking towards him, she won a beautiful smile as a present for her courage.
Now, on his lap, with her back against his front, she relaxed. Maybe was his smell - the fant reminder of the perfume and sex - or the way he kissed the back of her neck and passed his hands through her hair.
“So what do you want? We have coffee,orange juice. Bread and eggs. Pancakes and fruits.”
“Isn’t a bit late to be eating breakfast? It’s almost 3 pm”
“I mean... we did go to bed almost 8 am. And I see there is nothing bad with having breakfast for lunch”
With that Harry served her first (she wanted strawberries and pancakes) and then choose a slide of watermelon to start his meal - god knows how much they needed to eat after the night rolling around the bed.
“How did you have the time to make such a big breakfast?”
“Oh, I only made the pancakes” he said using his free hand to caress her right thigh “was planning on getting you breakfast in bed, and all of that. You know how smitten I am with you, bunny” he gave her a pitch on the cheek but continued talking: “But Lovelace sent this big breakfast as a thank you for the success that was the opening night yesterday. So I thought: change of plans. Organized everything here and left the note for you. But it didn’t take long because I don’t think I waited more than 20 minutes till you showed up using the robe even if I was very clear that you should come naked” he said giving her a funny look, pretending to be disappointed.
“Well... I don’t see you being naked”
“That can be arranged in 30 seconds, if you want”
She laughed and they continued to eat, the only sounds they could listen was the birds and the faint radio from someone outside, playing a romantic yet cheesy Italian song none of them ever heard.
Harry was using his free hand to tease her. Pressing his leg upon her mound. She was getting wet, feeling the heat of June so much hotter than actually way, like she was inside a stove.
“So, is here that you and your...” Lavignia was curious about his miscellany in bed, but she didn’t want him to feel mad or think she was jealous, she was just curious “guests “yeah, she choose the right word “here to refresh?”
Harry laughed: “my guests never actually even been here or my bedroom”
“Oh, so I’m different from all of them?”
Harry turned her around on his lap, with both of her legs each side of his waist. He took her head in both hands with a serious look:
“From the moment I saw you I was captivated. When I noticed how different you were I was so afraid you wouldn’t give me a chance because I have had my fair share of broken heart: from being cheated on to people who just said I can’t imagine the father of my children dressing the way you do all of that hurts, you know? I always give everything of me to the world but I never see the return of something that could be meaningful. And I think you mean something. I know you for only a week but there is a piece of me that wants to get to know you, fuck, even if you didn’t wanted to try and open up for life I would still find a way to be in your life either way. There is something inside those honey colored eyes that made me get so lost inside of them that I started to talk so much nonsense the day we met” he shook his head in a sign of denial “ I know I am a bit out of the usual guy but the first thing you heard from me was about a three way I had just the weekend before, that is no way to met someone you would wanna take out on a date, right”
“No. I was intimidated. I still am. There is so much I don’t know about the world and I only found out when I walked through that gallery door.”
“I think we balance each other and I can’t wait to figure it out more of us. If you want”
“I would like that”
“So, can I take you out on a date?”
“Isn’t this a date?”
“No, I wanna proper wine and dine you. Maybe take you to the movies. Fleetwood Mac is coming to Rome next month, we can have a little weekend getaway together”
“Okay. You can take me on a date”
He kissed her with fire in his soul after this. He was so used to being used just for his body or people with the dream of being one of his muses. And now he finally had a chance to start something amazing with this shy girl who is thrust so much in him.
“Good. Now that is settled, I wanna try something.”
He raised her up to her feet, opening his pants just enough to free his semi erect cock: “come and sit on me”
She looked at him with questioning in his eyes: “what about breakfast?”
“We are going to eat breakfast, come on” and with that she carefully sat on him. Both of them growling.
He took her plate and gave her a bite of the pancake. Everything seemed surreal for her: he was growing bigger inside of her and she was getting wetter. Every time she tried to move to get a bit of friction he would stop her. So there was only one thing for her to do: accept the food in her mouth and watch when he took bites of his watermelon looking at her. There was just something so erotic about everything.
“You know” Lavignia said when they were done and Harry rested their plate on the table “you are stuffing me full both ways right now” with that joke they started to laugh together
“One week ago you wouldn’t say this” Harry noted “I’m proud of you bunny. So proud that I’m going to give you a reward.
She looked at him, questioning. But he just took his hand and tapped her lips saying:
“Open up” she opened her mouth “tongue out”
And he did what she wasn’t expecting but it wasn’t a surprise at all: he sucked her to the inside of his mouth. Using his right hand to pull her hair while the other was getting down her body.
“Tastes just like strawberries, so fitting for this summer evening” He said before going in for more.
They started to kiss and his fingers were playing lightly with her clit. Never giving the pleasure necessary but always there... remembering her of the feeling of him inside and outside of her.
The more they kissed faster he would move his hand in her intimate parts while the other was manhandling her, with a strong grip on her hair, she couldn’t move. She was completely at his mercy.
When they both couldn’t take it anymore, Harry got hold of her hips, lifting her up and slamming her down his body, sending sparks through both of their bodies.
In that moment, she was stuck with the feeling of him he was the only thing that mattered. If someone could see them from the balcony: so be it. Even being on top, he was the one making her move. She couldn’t wait till the day she’d have the courage to be the one in charge.
“I’m not gonna last long” said Harry “sorry”
“It’s okay...” she said moaning. She was close to coming but from the sounds and the beating of Harry’s heart against her own: he was closer. Following her instinct she started to roll her hips every time he slammed her down, biting his neck and moaning in his ear: just for him.
It didn’t take long till Harry’s movements got a bit out rhythm so she said: “fill me up, come on. I need to feel you, to see you”
Harry was a goner. Closing his eyes and opening his mouth. He looked like an angel, if angels could be naughty as him.
When he opened his eyes, there was this adoration inside the way he looked at her. It was so loving that Lavignia said a little “oh” when he simply got up with her on his lap,used his hand to get whatever was on his way and her threw her on the desk, in the middle of the food, books, flowers.
He got down on his knees, looked at her through hooded eyes, mouth close to where she needed him the most and said: “second breakfast”
And third.
And forth.
The end
Oh, God, this was almost one moth of work and I’m so glad it all turned out just like I wanted, but first, i need to thank someone.
This fic exists thanks to the book “Woman, myth and godness”, it’s a book about the represetation of the woman inside arts, literature. It was how I found out about Sunlight, and fell in love with the concept.
And last but not least: I decided to use an OC because she had such a strong personality I needed to give her a name. If anyone is curious the faceclaim is a south american singer from the 70s called Gal Costa, so yaaay for poc charecter.
A gente tarda, mas não falha! hahaha Continuação do imagine do Harry, pedido por lovemrssmalik. Espero que gostem, e me desculpe pelo tamanho que ficou! Beijos.
anterior.
*
Duas semanas.
Duas semanas foi o suficiente para que a minha ficha caísse, assim como a máscara de Kiara.
Seu interesse nunca foi em mim ou em Matteo. Ela mentiu em tudo que disse, e me fez acreditar em uma ilusão. Seu único interesse era que alguém a bancasse.
Mas o que mais fazia meu coração apertar era tudo que eu tinha feito com (S/N). Eu a deixei. Eu joguei nosso casamento e toda nossa história no lixo. Deixei ela para trás, ignorando tudo que ela tinha feito por mim e pelo meu filho todos esses anos. Eu a deixei escapar e nem me esforcei para impedir que isso acontecesse.
Eu fui um grande babaca.
Eu sei que ela está com raiva de mim, e que provavelmente nunca mais iria querer me ver e muito menos me ouvir. Mas eu tinha que tentar.
O elevador apitou avisando que tinha chego no andar em que ela trabalhava. Andei devagar procurando sua mesa dentre tantas outras. Ela estava escondidinha atrás da tela do seu computador e uma pilha de papéis em cima da sua mesa. Seus olhinhos estavam inchados, e seu rosto demonstrava tristeza. Aquilo fez meu coração despedaçar por completo.
Ela suspirou alto e coçou a testa. Ela levantou os olhos dos papéis que estava lendo, e olhou na minha direção. Ela ficou imóvel e não esboçou reação alguma. Me aproximei devagar até parar bem em frente a sua mesa.
- Nós podemos conversar? – Seu olhar era firme contra o meu. – Por favor... – Pedi baixinho.
Ela suspirou mais uma vez e levantou da sua cadeira, andando até uma sala vazia ao lado da sua mesa.
- O que você quer, Harry?
Seu tom de voz era frio e duro, assim como o jeito que ela me olhava. Foi a minha vez de suspirar. Eu a tinha perdido. Para sempre.
- Matteo está sentindo sua falta. E eu também sinto. – Disse olhando nos olhos dela.
- Eu também sinto a falta dele.
- E de mim? – Me aproximei dela e segurei seu rosto com as minhas mãos. – Você também sente a minha falta, não sente?
- Harry, para. Por favor. – Ela arfou. – Nem começa.
Ela me empurrou para longe, e deus alguns passos para se afastar mais de mim. Respirei fundo e olhei em seus olhos mais uma vez.
- (S/A), eu sei que eu errei. E muito. Eu me deixei levar. No momento seguinte que eu saí de casa, eu vi que tinha tomado a decisão errada e me arrependi. Eu fui imaturo, e reconheço. Mas eu vim até aqui hoje para te pedir perdão. Por favor, (S/A), me perdoa. Volta pra mim.
Ela me olhava séria e não demonstrou nenhuma emoção. Me aproximei dela e segurei suas mãos e, olhando para elas, a vi sem a aliança grossa e dourada em seu anelar esquerdo. Isso foi demais para mim.
- Eu achei que crescer com a mãe era o que o Matteo precisava. Que isso ia fazer bem para ele. Eu nunca quis que meu filho tivesse apenas um pai. Eu queria que ele tivesse uma família completa. Mas eu estava errado. Muito errado. – Eu fazia um carinho em suas mãos enquanto falava. – Matteo sente mais a sua falta em duas semanas, do que sentiu de Kiara durante sua vida toda. E eu também. – Disse sincero.
- Durante todo esse tempo que eu te conheço eu vi você reclamar dela. Ouvi você criticar e condenar o que a Kiara fez. – Ela soltou suas mãos da minha. – Mas você fez a mesma coisa que ela, Harry. Você agiu exatamente da mesma forma. Na primeira oportunidade, você foi embora. E agora você está aqui na minha frente, dizendo que se arrependeu e que quer voltar. Você julgou tanto, mas fez igual a ela.
Ouvir isso dela doeu mais que levar uma facada. E o pior de tudo e que ela tem razão. Eu julguei tanto, e acabei seguindo os mesmos passos de Kiara.
- Você tem razão. Eu fiz igual. Mas tem uma coisa em que eu sou diferente dela: eu estou falando a verdade, (S/N). Eu realmente me arrependi do que eu fiz, eu realmente estou disposto a fazer diferente e a fazer qualquer coisa para reparar meu erro. – Minha voz vacilou.
Ela continuava me olhando e eu respirei fundo.
- Olha, eu sei que eu disse que eu queria que Matteo tivesse uma mãe, uma família de verdade, porque achava que era disso que ele precisava. Mas eu estava errado. Matteo já tinha isso. Matteo tinha você. Que é uma mãe e tanto, e uma mulher excepcional. Você é muito mais do que eu e ele precisamos e queremos. Por favor, me dá uma chance. – Ela engoliu em seco.
- Acho que você já falou tudo que tinha para falar. – Sua voz embargou e seus olhos marejaram. – Agora, por favor, vai embora.
- Tudo bem, eu vou. – Me aproximei dela mais uma vez. – Mas eu não vou desistir de você. Não fácil assim. – Selei seus lábios e sai da sala de reunião.
Eu ainda iria reconquistar aquela mulher. Custe o que custasse.
_
- Tia (S/N)! Tia (S/N)!
Do escritório escutei a voz alta de Matteo chamar por (S/N) depois que a campainha tocou. Corri para a sala e a vi parada na porta sorrindo. Julieta sorriu olhando na minha direção, me fazendo sorrir também. Olhei novamente para (S/N).
Eu mal podia acreditar que ela estava aqui.
- Oi, Mat! – Ela se abaixou e ele correu para os braços dela.
- Eu estava com saudades, tia (S/A)! – ele disse fazendo manha.
- Eu também senti sua falta, pequeno. – (S/N) olhou para ele e sorriu. – Por isso, eu vim te ver! – ele sorriu.
- Olha, papai. – ele me chamou e (S/N) ergueu os olhos para mim. – Ela veio brincar comigo! – Correu até mim e eu sorri com toda sua empolgação. – Vem, (S/A), vem ver o que eu ganhei! – Disse e correu para o seu quarto.
- Desculpa vir sem avisar. Mas estava por perto, e quis ver ele. Eu posso voltar outro... – interrompi antes que ela terminasse de falar.
- Não tem problema nenhum, fica tranquila. – Sorri para ela. – Ele amou. E eu também. – Olhei fundo nos seus olhos. Ela engoliu em seco.
- Bom, nesse caso, eu vou ver o que ele quer me mostrar.
Ela passou por mim e subiu as escadas devagar.
Matteo estava eufórico. Não parava de falar nem por um minuto. Corria de um lado para o outro. (S/N) brincou com ele a noite toda e, enquanto comíamos, assistimos um filme de animação que ele gostava.
Matteo dormia no colo dela no final do filme.
- Ele desmaiou! – ela disse baixinho, fazendo carinho no rosto dele. Sorri.
- Eu vou colocar ele na cama.
Levantei do sofá e fui até onde eles estavam. Abaixei para conseguir pegar ele no colo e fiquei próximo dela. Sentir seu perfume tão de perto me deixou inebriado. Ela clara toda a falta que eu sentia dela.
Ignorando meus instintos de beijá-la, peguei Matteo no colo e o levei até seu quarto e o coloquei na cama. Voltei para a sala e a vi sentada no mesmo lugar, com o olhar perdido em algum ponto da sala.
- Pronto. – Chamei sua atenção. – Obrigado por ter vindo, mesmo. Ele se divertiu muito. Fazia dias que não o via tão animado.
- Não tem o que agradecer. – Ela sorriu. – Eu sempre me divirto com ele. Ele é um menino incrível.
Ficamos em silêncio. Um silêncio quase que perturbador. Era horrível não saber o que falar para ela.
- Bom, eu acho que já vou indo. – Ela se levantou.
- Não, espera! – Levantei junto. – (S/A), eu fui sincero em tudo que eu te disse naquele dia. Tudo que eu falei é verdade. Eu me arrependo muito do que eu fiz. Eu não queria ficar nesse clima estranho com você, como se fôssemos dois desconhecidos. Eu realmente queria achar um jeito rápido de fazer você me perdoar e confiar em mim de novo. – Respirei fundo. – Mas eu...
Ela deu alguns passos na minha direção, passou seus braços em volta do meu pescoço e grudou seus lábios nos meus. Aspirei o ar com força, abracei forte seu corpo e aprofundei o beijo.
A sensação de ter ela desse jeito de novo era inexplicável e extasiante. Ao fim do beijo, lhe dei vários selinhos e um sorriso tomou conta do meu rosto. A olhei no fundo dos olhos, tentando fazer com que ela sentisse a sinceridade das minhas palavras.
- Eu juro que não vou te magoar e te decepcionar de novo. – Ela sorriu fraquinho. – Eu prometo!
