Desdemona by Tag Cavello (read e books online free .txt) đ
- Author: Tag Cavello
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Hadria cut him off with a laugh. âItâs all right, Dante. I know precisely what youâre trying to say.â
âThank you,â Dante gushed. âThat makes one of us, at least.â
At this the small woman laughed some more, glancing in opposite directions, perhaps as a way to reassure herself that no one was looking. Once she saw that they were still alone, she looked at Dante and asked:
âWould you like to time how long I can hold my breath underwater? Iâve been trying to reach one minute but havenât quite been able to.â
âSure,â Dante said. âNo problem.â
âI have a watch in my bag. Let me get it.â
Hadria rose and walked, pixie-like, to the next table, where she rummaged briefly through a large bag and came up with a pink wrist-watch. After pressing a few of its beeping buttons, she handed the watch to Dante. Its green display showed a row of zeroes. Next to them was a button marked START.
Hadria walked to the edge of the pool. After a brief glance into its depths, she dove in. Dante admired how her reedy frame barely disturbed the water. Seconds later she surfaced by the ladder, refreshing her lungs.
âI hope you donât mind,â she said, âbut Iâd like to try this without a top.â
Danteâs eyes widened as Hadria reached behind herself, untied the top of her bathing suit, and lay it on the tiles.
âIâll get a much deeper breath this way,â she then explained, âand also be more relaxed while holding it in.â
She didnât wait for Dante to offer an opinion on the matter. Instead, her chest began to rise with a number of heavy practice breaths.
âAhhhhhh! Phew!â Hadria plumed, over and over. âAhhhhh! Phew!â
Unable to help himself, Dante peered through the water. It wasnât rippling quite enough to conceal Hadriaâs small, tight breasts. Her nipples, sharp with cold moisture, were like tiny white beads. Beneath them Dante could make out the bones of Hadriaâs ribcage. For the time being at least, they were perky with moving air. Yet listening to the woman breathe, Dante could tell her lung capacity was small. Try as she might, Hadriaâs chest just didnât hold very much of what one needed to last long underwater.
âReady?â she asked, and in a moment Dante realized she wasnât talking to him, but to herself. âReady,â she answered.
Her eyes jumped to Dante. Raising the watch to show that he, too, was ready, Dante gave her a nod. Then Hadria drew a final, deep breath, and slipped below the surface.
â
When it was over, she asked if Dante wouldnât mind carrying the large bag back to her room. He obliged readily, seeing how the womanâs chest still heaved from its prior exertion. Thanking him, Hadria put on a robe and they walked to the elevators.
Her room was on the sixth floor, in the middle of a dark hallway with carpeting so brown and thick Dante thought he could almost mistake it for a river of sludge. Certainly that couldnât be the analogy guests of the Consorcia were meant to make, but here it was.
They went into Hadriaâs room. She clicked on the light. Red carpeting decorated with yellow flowers sprang into view. The air smelled of lemon, as if the flowers might be real. From the wall jutted a double bed. Next to that, a desk and phone. In front of the bed stood a large entertainment table, complete with television and radio. All in all it was, Dante thought, a basic hotel room. Basic, that was, but for its occupant.
âYou can put the bag on the bed,â Hadria told him, âthen come into the bathroom with me.â
This last caused Danteâs eyes to widen. He looked at her, awaiting further explanation. Sheâd none to give. She draped her robe over a chair and disappeared into the bathroom without a word.
Dante put her bag on the mattress. The bathroom door hung wide open. Golden light spilled from inside. Briefly, Dante considered simply leavingâof running out to the muddy hallway and away from Hadria forever. But then her voice came into the room, shocking him further with its words.
âYou know Sunnyâs a virgin, yes?â Hadria called. âSheâs frightened. You knowâŠof being with a boy.â
âI guess she would be,â Dante did his very best to reply. His feet remained stuck at the foot of the bed. Indeed, even if he could get them to move, he wasnât sure at the moment where he wanted to go.
âBut then she met you,â continued Hadria, âand felt perfectly at ease. You were like a friend she once knew a long time ago, come back from a hidden grave in the wood.â
Dante thought those words strange indeed. Hearing them brought a chill to his spine. He watched a shadow move across the bathroom light, nearly eclipsing it in full. This too was odd, as heâd noticed earlier the light mounted on the ceiling, and Hadriaâs stature was small. But then the shadow was gone, and Hadria began talking again.
âItâs so natural,â she said. âNever once have you made Sunny feel skittish or hesitant. Sheâs already told me she wouldnât mind being married to you. Isnât that beautiful?â
Danteâs befuddlement at the older womanâs mannerisms continued. She didnât call him out on it, or let his awkwardness fester. Instead she invited him, quite politely, to join her in the shower, so that she might wash with an extra pair of hands on her back.
Still frightened but far too curious now for flight, Dante approached the doorway. From inside came the squeak of a handle turning, followed by the sound of flowing water. When he peered round the frame he saw Hadria in the shower, fully naked. Her back was to him, yet still, when she arched her neck to let the water flow down her chest, he was able to see the shape of her ribcage, which hadnât held quite enough air to maintain a sixty second breath-hold underwater. The urge to touch itâto touch herâbecame nearly overpowering. As cool air from the sea fans a spark to a flame, luring it to rage before Seleneâs tide, so the woman excited Dante, and it was all he could do not to enter the room. Only the thought of hurting Sunny held him in check.
âI know youâre there,â Hadria said, not bothering to look over her shoulder. âCome inside. I could use your help. Sunny too.â
âSunny?â Dante managed.
Now Hadria did look. âSheâs a virgin, Dante, but she doesnât want both of you to be. Not for her first time. She wants you confident and in control. Thatâs why youâre here tonight. To learn confidence and control.â
âDid she tell you that?â
âShe most certainly did. Now get undressed. Iâll show you exactly what you need to do. Weâll go nice and slow.â
With that, Hadria went back to washing herself. It was as if she knew Dante would eventually do as he was told. And less than a minute later, he did.
âGood,â Hadria said, as Dante stepped into the shower. âVery good. Now I want you to justâŠdo what comes natural. Okay? Do what comes natural.â
âBut you said you would show meââ
âShhh. I will. I will.â
â
At midnight came the explosion of pyrotechnics. Flowers of fire, large as a football stadium, burst over the lakefront, throwing fitful light upon Clevelandâs many knifelike towers, forlorn steel bridges, and grotesque offerings of abstract park art. Dante and Hadria watched from her window. Each of them drank a glass of wine.
âHappy New Year,â she said, smiling up from his shoulder.
âHappy New Year, Hadria,â Dante said.
He felt ever so much more comfortable now in her proximity, a fact which stood to reason. He didnât even mind that they were both still quite naked, though sheâd pulled the curtain wide for the show.
They watched until the fireworks ended. At the fading of the final rocket, Hadriaâs room fell into a blackness almost pitch. All Dante could see, by the faint glow of downtown, were her eyes, which suddenly looked too green and too bright. They blinked at him in a cat-like, predatory way. Uneasiness began to creep back into his chest, until Hadria spoke with a voice gentle and warm as any heâd heard from the kindest of giving souls.
âTake what youâve learned tonight back to Sunny,â she said. âSheâll be so relieved by your ability to take charge. When sheâs ready, of course.â
Not long after, Dante dressed and left the room to return to his own on the ninth floor. Upon unlocking the door, he found it empty, the curtains closed, the beds unused. By then it was nearing one in the morning, but his father had already warned that he would probably have the whole night to himself.
Not that it mattered. Dante had rung in 1993 in the best possible way any man could. The only thing left to do now was sleep. He brushed his teeth, put on a pair of pajamas, and lay down on the bed.
Blinking blearily at the ceiling, he tried to imagine doing with Sunny what heâd done with Hadria. It took very little effort. Tired though his body was, his mind still seemed eager for play, so it was to Sunnyâs high, devious laughter that he finally fell asleep, and dreamed of iridescent fire in black skies cold with a coming storm.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: For Dukey
Happiness came from an unlikely source, breaking the groove of an elderâs course.
The farmer, whoâd introduced himself as John Huntley, stood with his hands in the pockets of his overalls. He was every bit as tall as Danteâs father, but much wider, with huge brown boots on his feet, a blue bandana in his back pocket, and a red face that Dante thought looked well accustomed to smiling.
All three men were in a barn on the east end of Monroeville, which was a very small town three miles west of Norwalk. In a million years Dante would never have pictured his father in such a place, but here he was. His reason lay on the floor, bundled beneath a pile of blankets. As John Huntley talked, Dante kept looking from the bundle to his father and back again, trying hard to get his mind around what he was seeing.
He couldnât do it. His father was a lot like the skyline of Clevelandâcool, pragmatic, rigidâbut here, on a cold day in a cold barn, the ice had cracked. From beneath emerged a very different man. One who had not known the sun for a long time, or perhaps never at all, and looked all the more happy to feel its long overdue radiance upon his face.
Dante watched as Mr. Torn knelt and, gently pulling the blankets away from their contents, began to laugh. Laugh! Mr. Torn was laughing! At this Dante almost wanted to run to the nearest phone, where he would then dial 911 and beg for assistance.
âDad?â he brought out instead.
âLook at them, Dante! Just look at them!â
âYeah,â Dante said, smiling, âIâm looking.â
The puppiesâa litter of four shih-tzusâyipped and yapped about the teats of their mother. They were brown and black bundles of fur, with tiny, wriggling noses that poked at Danteâs hand when he tried to pet them. All looked friendly, full of energy. Ready to play for the next hundred years.
âTheyâre not really farm dogs,â John Huntley explained as the elder Torn, to Danteâs absolute shock, picked one up and began to cuddle it. âSo I figured it best to sell the pups. Weâre looking to get a briard for the sheep.â
âI canât imagine anyone not wanting one of these,â Mr. Torn cooed into the baby shih-tzuâs nose. The shih-tzu licked him back. âWhat time is it? Huh? Huh?â
âItâs almost noon,â John Huntley answered.
âIs it time
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