Chapter 6: Who do you take me for?

John

— Good evening, my goddesses, he said with that smirk I know by heart. I'm John. This is my friend Auracio. And you, what do you call yourselves?

She shakes my hand. Gently. Her fingers are slender, warm, delicate. Hands made for caresses… for tender gestures… or to make me lose my mind.

Auracio

I look at her. I’m not pretending. This woman... throws me off balance.

Damn.

That gaze. That discreet confidence. That way of looking at me without flinching, without blushing, without looking away like all the others. She knows she pleases me. And she plays with that.

Her name is Ariane. And it already lingers in my mind like a sweet poison.

I greet politely. But inside, I’m on fire.

— Buonasera, amore mio. I’m Auracio. At your service. You are… splendid.

— Thank you, she says with a little teasing smile. My name is Ariane, and this is my best friend, Marianne.

Marianne is beautiful too. A lively, joyful beauty. But she already no longer exists in my field of vision.

— Nice to meet you, I’m Marianne! she adds, laughing. Thanks for the champagnes.

— The pleasure is all mine, replies John. I hope you’re having a good time?

— Honestly? It’s fun. But... I have the feeling you’re expected elsewhere, right? asks Ariane, tilting her head slightly.

I sense the allusion. The other women over there, those who look at me with barely concealed hatred. Perfect bodies, faces made for I*******m. But empty.

— Don’t pay attention to them, John cuts in.

— Them? asks Marianne, squinting. I feel like they’re going to kill us with their looks.

— They’re just looks, I whisper. They won’t do anything to you… well, unless they want to die.

Ariane furrows her brows.

— Excuse me?

— Don’t listen to him, says John, a bit nervously. He’s joking.

I smile. Slowly.

— I never joke.

Ariane

He has that deep, calm voice that chills your skin… or makes it burn.

The famous Auracio walks around the table without asking for permission and positions himself in front of Marianne.

— Can I?

He doesn’t specify what. But it’s obvious: he wants his place. Next to me.

Marianne laughs, gets up with a mischievous wink.

He settles in. His scent hits me hard. Deep, woody, intoxicating. My body reacts against my will. My arms tense, my knees tremble. I hate it.

He sees it. He knows.

And it excites him.

— What do you do for a living, Auracio? I say to cut this tension.

— Import-export, he replies without details. Nothing exciting. And you?

— I finished my studies. I’m looking for a job.

He fixes his gaze on me.

— You don’t look your age… twenty-one? Twenty-two?

— Nineteen.

His eyes shine.

— Almost a child…

— I’m of legal age, I retort sharply.

He smiles. As if nothing.

— That’s not what I said. But you might be a bit young… for me.

I scoff.

— And you? Forty? Forty-five?

— Forty, yes. But I’m young on the inside.

— I have no doubt that’s what you say to all the girls.

— No. Not to all. Only to those who unsettle me.

I remain silent for a moment. Then I lean in.

— John, can you leave us? Marianne too?

John nods without asking questions. He knows that look. He fades away.

Auracio

Finally alone.

I don’t move. Not yet. I want to feel the moment when she wavers.

Our arms brush against each other. I see her struggle not to turn her head toward me. I speak softly, almost in her ear.

— You smell good.

She shivers.

— I could breathe you in all night.

She closes her eyes. For a second. Just one. But it’s enough.

I lean in. My lips graze the skin just behind her ear. Gently. She doesn’t pull back. She breathes faster. I feel her heart beating, as if her body is screaming a desire she doesn’t dare to articulate.

— I want you, Ariane. And not like the others.

I pause for a moment. She opens her eyes, places her hand on my chest. She pushes me slightly.

Not to reject me.

To test my resistance.

— And you think I’m what? An easy prey? A poor little student impressed by a mature man who drives a flashy car and speaks Italian?

— That would be too simple, I say. And I hate what’s simple.

She raises an eyebrow.

— So what? You want to seduce me just to add my name to your list of conquests?

I laugh. Briefly. Without joy.

— You don’t understand. It’s not you I want to conquer. It’s your gaze. Your fire. Your refusal.

— You don’t want me. You just want to win.

She’s got it.

But she doesn’t yet know how much.

— Maybe, I admit. Maybe it’s a game. But it’s a dangerous game, Ariane. Because you’re playing it too.

A silence falls.

She finally looks away.

Then comes back to me. Slowly.

— And what if I refuse to play?

I move closer, my breath brushes her cheek.

— You’d be the first. And maybe the only.

I stop there. I could kiss her. Right now. She’s dying for it. Her body is ready. But not her mind. And I like when one betrays the other.

So I stand up.

She stares at me, incredulous. Almost offended.

— You’re leaving?

— Yes.

— Just like that?

I lean toward her. Very close.

— When you want me… you won’t need to say it. Your body will speak for you. And I’ll know.

I turn on my heels, without another word.

And I leave her there, burning, confused, alone with her thirst.

And above all, with the irritating certainty… that she will think about it all night.