Page 44 of Forbidden Fruit
When Lino’s tongue prods at my lips, I open for him and we both moan low as the kiss deepens. I fist his shirt, trying and failing to stay grounded in reality.
His hands frame my face like he isn’t sure if he needs to clutch me to him or push me away. But we don’t stop. Our tongues dance together and we lose ourselves to each other as if nothing has ever felt more right.
“Babbu,” Livia calls out and a second later, the sound of small feet stampeding their way to the office echo in the corridor.
Lino and I jump away from each other, both breathing heavily and cheeks flushed pink.
“Well, thank you, Mr Marquesi. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I flee because there’s no other option.
When I’m safe in my flat, I know that no matter how much I tell myself I need to quit and I need to have more restraint so if my boss kisses me again, I will succumb to this forbidden fruit.
TWENTY-FOUR
WHY TALK WHEN YOU CAN PLAY WITH ROPES INSTEAD?
It must be close to midnight a week later when I decide to do something about the anxiety spiking through my bloodstream.
I’ve already done my evening yoga and tried breathing exercises, but I’m still thinking about Lino. About that kiss. Again. And I want to feel connected to him somehow.
I pull the ropes I had delivered from the drawer I hid them in. Not that anyone would come sniffing around my stuff, but I guess I felt self-conscious about having them.
The new red hemp feels rough against my fingers as I untangle the two ropes, then fold both of them in half like Milo showed us.
Maybe I’ve been practising yoga for too long and don’t realise when I dissociate during my sequences anymore because this level of focus as I tie myself from the hips down feels different. I can’t let my mind go; every pass of the rope against my skin heightens my senses. The smell of the new threads evokes excitement. I anticipate the tugs I give them on my thighs with trepidation. I’m proud of myself as I recall how to tie the endsof my first rope with the ‘bite’ of my second and continue on my way down to my ankles.
When I’m done and the flesh expands above the strands of hemp, I do my best to sit back down on the couch, with my legs straight and just feel. I bring awareness to every single inch of my legs and let myself just be.
Nothing else matters in this moment but how my blood pounds in my veins and how the pressure makes me mellow, relaxing my muscles.
I continue like this for a while, letting my attention drift from my right hip to my knee all the way down to my right ankle, then up through my left side all the way to my hip. Like a continuous circle.
I startle and let out a scream as a knock comes on my door.
“Fuck… Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck.”
“Vanessa? Can we talk?” Lino’s voice comes from behind the door, almost anxious and pleading.
“Ugh, right now isn’t a good time, Lino.” I hesitate, then hold my breath, hoping he will leave. How can this week get more fucked? First the orgasm, then the kiss and now this?
“Please,” he breathes and even with the walls between us, I hear him loud and clear. My heart clenches as I imagine him, forehead to the door, hoping I’ll just say yes and remove the physical barrier between us.
“Okay, give me a minute.”
As fast as I can for a newbie, I untie everything and slide the ropes under the couch, then run to the door and open it with a whoosh of air.
Lino frowns as he takes me in. He’s still wearing the same clothes as earlier, the wide linen beige pants cinching his waist almost indecently. He’s discarded the jacket and rolled up his sleeves to reveal his strong forearms dusted with dark brown hair. The first two buttons of his dark green shirt are open toreveal his chest and I can’t help the flashback from the other night, making my mouth go dry.
“What were you doing?” he asks, like he expects someone to come out of the closet.
Somehow, that makes me furious.
“None of your business. What areyoudoing here? I’m off the clock.”
His eyes darken, and he advances on me. I take a step back into the flat. The sound of the door closing as Lino invades my space is deafening, and I swallow, all too aware of his presence and of the way the fabric of his clothes shift as he moves.
“Do you think because we kissed, you can be mouthy with me, Vanessa?” he asks darkly.