Monday, March 19, 2007

La Pedrera
Some chapter ...

She sat across the table from him, loosely following his gestures. Her lazy looks wandered around the old French cabin only to rest her eyes on her glass and then on his eyes. The tip of that decadent red encircled her existence that night. She oscillated between her half clear glass and her half-lit cigarette and half a smile. The smell of cognac invaded the intimate aroma of her wine which seemed to protect her from a world she was not ready for. He looked right through her. They locked eyes sporadically and it was enough to send fire through her spine. She guzzled her wine to allow her nerves to catch up with his.

She took the chance while he was deeply engaged in his conversation at the other end to examine him. His silence as he listened was somehow more forceful than his words. He had a pleasant air about him. He had a mysterious quality wrapped in his years. He had a fire inside him secretly disguised in his carefully pleated scarf that hid the color of his chest. While he looked distant, while they laughed and gesticulated around him, his gaze into the empty space got deeper.

Her body was wired to his intonations. She felt as if he was whispering to her across the table. He rested an arm on the linen and started caressing it with his fingers. She secretly touched the linen with her knee only to blush. It was as if he was caressing her skin. It was intoxicating but it seemed like she was the last thing on his mind that night. He listened to his host resting a look on her hand, which made her nervous. Her right hand suddenly felt bare of any sophistication and of necessary distractions.

She reached for her cigarette again. He still looked at her hand. It was strange. It was as if he was controlling her gestures now. As if he could see her nervousness. As if he knew that she was not to belong there. She laid her palm flat on the table with the cigarette still between her fingers. He could not possibly know who she was. He did not notice her but why does she feel like he knows her? Why does she feel calm when she looks in his alarming eyes? Why does he strike his conspiring fingers on the table to keep her breathing? Did he not invade her sanctum with his stares to let her know that he was there? Does he know all what went in her head that night?

She felt silly and she realized that she was silent. She came out of her deep thoughts to notice a silence around the table. She smiled nervously at their host and she felt her heart beats. He was looking at her. Quiet. Sure and relaxed in his seat. He looked at her with no explanation and no embarrassment. Like it was his right to sample her face now. To slowly work his eyes through her lips and through her cheeks and through her eyes like he did her fingers. She could not breathe. He tilted his head and smiled. That half smile that made her knees shake.

The host stood up to usher her friend to her room. That is when she realized that she was alone with him. They walked away and she could not get herself to look at him yet. He stood up and came to sit beside her.

- You have the most delicate air about you. He said. I have been distracted all night. I think you are charming. I am simply intrigued. I tried to get you to look at me. I tried to let you know that I was there.
- You did? She replied calmly while still looking away. I have not noticed. The smell of cognac gives me a headache.
- I thought we took common interest in each other tonight. The way you looked at me.
- I think it was all in your head and I wish you would refrain from whispering. My fiancé will return shortly...

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Lovely interlude on a lovely dance.