He was smart, and naked suddenly. Confronted so unpredictably by his nakedness I unexpectedly got in touch with mine, and I felt a rush of adrenalin travelling through my body, from the tip of my toe to the top of my head, adrenalin and then desire, and I was warm, in tune with my nakedness, and it was fine. It was soft and feminine, his and mine entwined smelled of vanilla and amber, orange peel, skin-toned desires, sensual intentions, of the tender warmth that emanates from two bodies being turned on by each other, bodies on the verge of love, in slow motion. He probably could feel this wave of energy escaping from my pores because I could feel his, and the mixing of the two almost produced a sound, it felt like a loud vibration irradiating my nerves from within to my extremities, and leaving my body to take refuge in his, and he was still smiling, the smile of an accomplice, soon to become a partner in crime, hopefully. He was smiling as if he were saying yes to an invitation, made in confidence without a sound, or a movement. It’s a disease how much I read into things, and since this whole doctor story I never know if every day I make mistakes, or if my instincts are perfectly on target. Impulsively I put my hand in my purse and grabbed my wallet, and I held onto it, and I was squeezing it hard, so tightly that my fingers started to ache, and my hand was sweating on the leather because I just couldn’t let go. I could imagine the sweat infiltrating the leather, then the lining, and finally the picture. The doctor. My doctor. I remembered his neck, his skin, so fair, so perfect, and many times I thought of how agile he must be in the morning while shaving, already so alert. I wondered what he has for breakfast, if he drives his children to school or his wife to work, or if she stays home and waves him goodbye from behind the kitchen window…
//
The summer cioppino I ordered on that day was more than remarkable. Excellence and fulfilment in a bowl cut at a 30-degree angle. The temperature of the broth was exactly what I wanted it to be, it was hot. It was fragrant. It was red, and the seafood and the fish were fresh and fleshy, not quite rare but rarer than medium rare, but by all means dead. I ate them, and paired them up with more bubbles. It was worth the guilt, I’d do it again.
//
I have been seeing Mark for three months now. I spend most days at his apartment. Things moved very fast for us since the day we met. He leaves early in the morning and comes back late at night, and that leaves me plenty of time to write, exercise, shop, cook, read, live slowly, slower than he, and come back to my senses just in time to make him feel cosy, cared for and loved until he falls asleep. At home. With me.
Except where stated, all material copyright © Emmanuelle Dauplay.