Veiled Affection

Chapter Twenty one

A brief holiday we managed. I can't remember what lies we told in order to have a few days of truth together. She drove us a few hours away from our place to end up at a place fairly similar. For quite some time all we saw was nature around us, and a long, deserted road ahead. And then we arrived.

''Nobody will find us here,'' She said as we went up the long driveway.

''You are scaring me.''

She smiled. She held the steering wheel with one hand, the other resting on mine, and her fingers drew circles on the back of my hand.

''It belongs to an old relative of mine. He is out of the country.''

''Are we in luck,''

''Just wait and see.''

I did, and when she drove the last bend, my eyes fell on the house, aged and grand.

Twenty-five different rooms it had, and by the end of our two weeks together we would have had sex in all of them - a fun little challenge we set ourselves up for.

The outside area was exceptionally large, and considering the good early-spring weather, we spend most of our time there. And that is how it was on our first evening, too.

We had just ticked off the third room (I remember the hard surface of the dining table well, and how she climbed on top of me) when we went and sat outside. We watched the sun go down, and the last streaks of light shone on her face magnificently; again, movie-like. We talked and laughed and drank wine and watched the first stars come into sight. And as it got colder outside, we retrieved back inside, and arranged for some music.

She moved with ease, charmingly, and with such confidence, and I found myself unable to focus on anything else in the room. I was captivated. I felt inadequate, inexplicably hungry, too warm. When she approached me, my heart slowed. She spun me around like a good swing partner, assured, in control. I let myself go and laughed involuntarily. Gravity was gone.

Later, we danced so slowly we might as well have been standing.

She bend her head toward my ear.

''Ready for the fourth?'' She asked, and I nodded. She fucked me good and hard right there in the living room.

We had so many happy days in and around the house that spring that from this vantage they merge into a sweet and indistinct blur. We binge-read books and told each other stories and kissed and fucked and slept odd hours tangled up together under the sheets.

What should I write about? About the Saturday that Cate and I explored the house and went all the way up to the eerie attic, to end up there naked on a blanket? Or the time Cate tried to teach me some of her acting techniques; or the time she read my book to me, and I closed my eyes and just listened to her rich, vibrant voice.

One day, however, remains particularly vivid. A brilliant Friday in our second week there, one of the sunniest days we had thus far. The night before - which had been rather cold - we stayed up drinking and talking till almost dawn, and I woke late, hot and vaguely nauseated, to find the blankets kicked to the foot of the bed and sun pouring through the window. Cate wasn't lying next to me so I got up and went to the bathroom. There I find her standing in front of the bathroom mirror, pulling at her face in the fluorescent light. In the view of the mirror she sees me coming in, and her face brightens.

''Look who is finally awake.''

I come up behind her and kiss her shoulder.

''Goodmorning,'' I say. ''Sorry, I really smell like alcohol. I will wash up.''

I step into the shower. The water heats my skin, and I moan from the sensation. The shower curtain rustles, and Cate joins me, her skin drawn up into goose bumps. She puts her hand behind my head, heating it up in the water, and then slips it between my legs. The other one loops through my hair, and pulls me against the tile. After I come, she steps out of the shower. When I leave the bathroom, drying my hair, I find her lying spread-eagled on the bed.