The orchids on the coffee table were replaced with a silver candle holder and a lone flame. Around it, glass platters offered a variety of Arabic specialties Marco had prepared. The menu included dumplings in yogurt sauce, raw salmon kibbeh and fattoush salad, as well as sweets from a traditional deli. The air was prevaded with honey and herbs.

When the clock turned nine, she arrived preceded by a floral fragrance. She wore a satiny strap top and black skirt, her high-heeled sandals matching a pair of pearl earrings and a golden necklace. Marco couldn't help but gaze at her in awe.

It was always the same. In her absence, Marco tended to forget how pretty she was. His eyes took in her young body, returned to her oval face, stared into the irises that emanated sparkles and ignited his own desire. Marco oscillated in the frontier of lust and disquiet. It was such an odd sensation, that for an instant he savored it while attempting to define it.

"Why are you staring at me? It's like you've never seen me before," she said smiling.

"It's nothing."

She approached Marco with an insinuating gait.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She leaned toward him. "How about my kiss?"

Her lips greeted Marco's as her hands slid up his white shirt and rested lightly on his shoulders. She then on the sofa and crossed her legs as she studied the surroundings with curiosity. She frowned at the sight of the food and sought an indication of what was to come. This time, however, there was nothing in sight to hint at Marco's intentions.

"What are we doing tonight?" she asked. Her pupils dilated.

Marco looked at her in silence. This was his last chance to back down. He could always get the valise and improvise a game. It held all sorts of toys. She wouldn't even notice the change of plans.

He hesitate, glancing at the bedrom door. He paused and finally said:

"Let's have dinner first."

The two sat cross-legged on the floor, around the coffee table, drinking arak to Oriental music.The melody was a summer night- lute-harp and stars, guitar and crickets, percussion and breeze in the foliage.Tu mera dil tu meri jaan...Pakistani artist Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan sang about life in the form of a woman, wishing her to sit before him so he could gaze at her always and always. His heart, his life.

In the meantime she sat there, tasting the food and throwing furtive glances at him. Until she was unable to refrain herself any longer:

"What did you plan after all?"

"Just wait and see. Didn't you say you like surprises? Be patient."

Marco emptied his glass and poured more arak for both of them. He was about to raise the drink to his lips when he changed his mind and returned it to the table. She took a long draft and pushed the plate. her hands on the edge of the table, the fingers taping with a reflection of golden nail polisher.

"I've had enough, thank you."

A smile.

Now what?

It was what her gazed asked and his didn't reply. The air closed upon them. They eyed each other. Marco reached out for the glass of arak but gave up once more and drank water. Marco stood up, reached out for her and helped the partner rise to her feet. He drew her near, leading her in the music cadence.

She nestled up against his chest and they danced in place, cheek to cheek. Marco shut his eyes and tried to capture the womanly scent masked by jasmine. He skimmed his lips on the exposed nape of her neck, kissing the shoulder slope, pushing aside the top strap with his teeth to nibble the flesh.

Little by little she started to reciprocate each caress with fluid symmetry. Her hands roamed over his wide back while he traced the line of her spine. Their mouths met simultaneously in the same route, at first lightly and slowly, then with impetuousness. A famished kiss that went on and on, while hands clutched, squeezed, scratched...

They tumbled on the couch and he removed her top with impatient hands, then stripped off his own shirt. Bare skin against bare skin, they tightened their embrace. Her pulsating warmth. His moan. In an impulse, Marco took her breast in the mouth as his hand glided toward the curve of her hips.

The hand remained there to tantalize the hollow of the navel, tracing circles with the fingertips, in and out, around and about, making her sigh and pant. It kept sliding down, sneaked into the skirt, explored the recess at the junction of the thighs. His fingers then hooked in the tiny piece that covered it and removed the last obstacle between them and the naked flesh.

She tossed back her head and buried her nails on his back. Then she groped for the waistband of his pants, the button, the zipper. She held him as if weighting the erection and smiled satisfied with herself, for she was the one responsible for that. She began stimulating him with her hands and mouth. Marco closed his eyes, caressing her hair, bringing her closer. Successive waves of delicious tension concentrated in one single spot to reach an almost unbearable crescendo...

Pausing for a second, she looked at him. Wickedness beclouded her face.

"Let's go to the bedroom." Her voice trickled like thick caramel, then her gaze. "I want to see what you've prepared for me."

He winced, waking up to reality with a shock. His first reflex was to keep distance. Marco straightened his clothes with an absent air, while his lover stood up, every inch female, and pulled him by the hand. She was flushed, hair in disarray, her half-naked body undulating in feline fluidity.

Like a sleepwalker, Marco allowed her to drag him to the bedroom, where a candle burned on the nightstand commanding the shadows. At the bed headboard, the reds on the painting shifted to golds and maroons at the whim of the flame. The furniture and objects were emphasized by a thick black outline, and on the surface of the antique mirror the forms gained more depth, as if the carved wooden frame gave passage to another place.

She hesitated at the door, her eyes darting here and there in search of a clue. She smiled increasingly puzzled, taking the time to inspect the furniture and corners. When she realized there was nothing in sight to satiate her curiosity, she turned to Marco with an interrogative expression.

"Where is it?"

The breeze blew and made the room flicker in a dance of shadows streaked by yellow rays. It lasted only an instant. Then everything froze again in the stagnated air.

Marco smiled uncertainly in return.

"Didn't you say you wanted to do normal things? There you are. Tonight we're not using anything nor following a script."

"What do you mean?" Disconcerted, she leaned against the door frame.

He felt cornered by the intensity of her gaze. He knew she liked to experience different things. Well, compared to what the two of them usually did, that was different.

"Tonight it's just you and me," he said. "No accessories. No masks."

She was silent. On her face, flickered a range of emotions: astonishment, incredulity, and finally disappointment. She could feel she was losing him. He had become increasingly apathic, withdrawn. She wanted Marco, his body, his smile, his words, even those she couldn't understand. For at his side she discovered herself. So she made herself pretty for him. When she seduced him, it was a small victory in the battle already lost. But often it seemed Marco didn't see her. Not even the game, the only thing that still moved him, would entice him as before. His indifference had entered the bedroom. The last stop.

Marco read the disappointment on her face and wondered at which point she had become a discomfort. He didn't know the answer. It had been like a cold draft sneaking through a crack in the window. The thread uniting them wove her desire and his pain. And her want gave him the measure of his own emptiness. It was unsettling. It was Mars with its harsh fire in the black sky. Despite the differences emerging between them, Marco thought it might work. He wanted it to work. He owed it to himself and her: a chance. He had already relinquished too many things and it was time to yank off that crust from his body.

New skin.

At that thought, Marco felt strangely calm. He believed it was a sign he was getting closer to her. He didn't know in truth he had already distanced himself and severed the bond.

"Come with me," he said leading her to the bed.

The two rolled over the velvety spread, and he covered her body with his own. The caresses were reinitiated, legs intertwined, lips united with renewed eagerness. They finished undressing, and Marco sought her sex with his mouth. He laid a path of kisses that made her squirm and moan ever so loudly.

On a sudden, she forced him to stop.

"I want you inside me..."

She wriggled, lying on her stomach.

"Not like this," he murmured as he grasped her hips.

She acceded mutely. Lifting herself, she placed her flattened hands and knees on the mattress. Then waited. Marco, however, held her by the waist and turned her around. They faced each other.

She chuckled.

"Is this really what you want, Marco?"

"Why? Don't you like it?"

He licked her neck, sliding the tip of his tongue down the cleft between the pale breasts and up again. When his eyes reached her face, they gleamed like a pair of obsidians. Dark, lustrous. It did not take much to convince her. She parted her legs with a heave and got ready to receive him.

Marisa said the present was what mattered. True. But now, more than ever, he looked back. And, as soon as he positioned himself, he lost momentum. His concentration faltered. The energy animating him until now escaped his body as if a dam gate had suddenly been opened. Emptied of everything, the only thing left in him was frustration and embarrassment.

Marco rolled to the side.

"I'm sorry, Mari..."

She sat up brusquely, her eyes flashing a spark of indignation.

"Mari? Who's Mari?"

Marco closed his eyes. He felt drained, emptier than ever.

"I think you better get dressed, Camila."

___________________________________________________________

OK, I hope you didn't see that coming! Did you?

If you comment, please don't give away how this chapter ends so to keep the surprise fresh to other readers, OK? or details ;-) But yes, they're dating. How did that happen? The answer is in Part 3, when the story moves to another country with many surprises.

As I explained in the beginning of this story, I can't leave the full book here due to Kindle Unlimited's policy so I had to remove Part 3.

Now I have great news for you: head to my profile here on Wattpad and you'll find RED 2.

God bless you.

Nicole

xoxo