10 Escape from Reality #2
As you unwrapped the gauze, you gasped when you saw a small piece of umbilical cord in your hands.
It must have belonged to the baby girl you’d helped bring into the world.
It was a very special token; with this gift, the locals intended to thank you for everything you’d done for one of their own.
I could see that you were growing fonder and fonder of that enchanting place.
The islanders’ gesture toward you had been a beautiful one, and you wanted to return the favor.
I had an idea that you liked right away: there were numerous pieces of coral on the island that the sea had washed ashore over the years, which I could use to make jewelry for the baby and her mother.
In my heart, I would have done anything to make you forget about the matter of penance.
Without giving you time to reply, I ran outside, returning shortly afterward with several small pieces of coral.
I took some fishing line and began threading the coral onto it until, as if by magic, two very pretty bracelets appeared in my hands.
For the clasps, I used two fishing lures attached to two small carabiners.
You admired my creation and hugged me tightly.
You were truly happy, and I was even happier than you were to see you so at peace.
There were still a couple of hours before dinner, and I wanted to take the opportunity to tidy up the mess in the room, but I could tell your mind was already racing. I could feel your gaze on me, and I already knew how it would end if I turned to look at you.
I found it very interesting to look through the contents of a drawer, and I hoped you wouldn’t remember the punishment.
Just then, you came up behind me, and as you peeked into the drawer, it all came back to you.
Picking up my neatly folded panties, you solemnly announced the punishment in store for me: I would have to put on a fashion show for you, wearing all the panties and culottes I’d brought from home.
There were eighteen pairs, and at that moment I was cursing my own delusions of grandeur.
I couldn’t get out of it, so I decided to start right away with a red thong with black polka dots and a matching bra.
Next up was a pair of purple culottes with a matching bra.
I wanted to save the most precious and seductive set I owned—one I hadn’t yet had a chance to wear—for last.
The top was a white satin and lace bodice by La Perla, while the bottom was a broderie anglaise lace thong I’d never worn before.
When you saw me in the white set that made my tan stand out, you were left breathless—just like me—because it was quite embarrassing to put myself on display like that.
I sat on the bed waiting for your verdict, which never came, because you suddenly decided to throw all your good intentions out the window, diving on top of me to play around.
Then, when you started undressing me, I whined, “But honey, why did you make me put this on if you’re just going to take it off now?”
I must have sounded convincing, because you paused mid-air with your hand ready to grab me, pulling it back immediately afterward to let it glide gently over my face.
I looked at you, astonished, because such a reaction wasn’t like you at all.
Maybe you were losing your edge, but if I’d told you that, you would have torn me to shreds.
Of course, my imagination was running wild, and I knew full well that you weren’t losing your edge and that you’d never hurt me, not even as a joke.
I looked at you for a long time; I never got tired of doing that.
The hardest thing for me to overcome was my shyness, and I always used to make something up whenever you were about to do something else.
You drove me wild when you kissed me, caressed me, and held me close, but as soon as something more explicitly erotic happened, the alarm in my brain would go off.
I wondered if I’d ever really get over it.
I wanted to talk to you about it, but I was ashamed, and by holding it in like that, I risked making you feel rejected every time—even though I wanted you so badly.
I decided to take a chance and tell you everything, pretending you were my trusted doctor.
I told you about my fears and anxieties, about the fact that even though I loved you so much, I couldn’t stop thinking about it; I wanted to, but there was something inside my mind that kept asking, “What will he think of you if you give yourself to him completely?”
It was a relentless struggle between the unbearable desire to love you and my reluctance to reveal my deepest, most forbidden desires to you.
As I laid my problem bare to you, I opened my heart to you, and once my confession was over, I waited, twirling the hairs on your arm.
You held me close, cradling me gently, kissing my hair, and caressing my arms.
I felt pampered and spoiled like never before, and I longed to feel like I belonged to you, but I would never have had the courage to tell you that, much less let you in on these thoughts of mine.
Lifting my face, you began to speak to me: “My love, I’ve never felt rejected by you. Every word, gesture, glance, and breath of yours offers me unconditional love. I sense it clearly; I know you deeply because I know myself, and I understand your state of mind.
You’re a woman who grew up in a deeply male-dominated environment where you had to suppress your feelings and emotions. It will take time for you to free yourself from this absurd legacy, but I’ll help you. I love you, and I can’t imagine that you don’t desire me the way I desire you,
since we’re equal in every way. Now, what do you think if I asked you to make love to me?”
“Well, the lesson has already begun,” I thought.
I realized I was making the same mistake again: I was overthinking things, and I shouldn’t have been.
I got out of bed under the pretext of going to the bathroom.
When I returned to the bedroom, you were already asleep.
I felt hurt, so I went out onto the porch and started crying.
I missed you terribly; I missed your breath, your gaze that pierced my soul, and your hands exploring my body.
I walked along the shore, lost in my thoughts, dragging behind me a weight in my heart heavier than myself.
The sea was still; it seemed as if it, too, were sleeping.
I picked up a few pebbles from the ground and began hurling them angrily at the water’s surface, accompanying each throw with an insult directed at myself: the list of “compliments” reserved for me ranged from “coward” to “stupid,” with “idiot” thrown in for good measure.
Once I’d finished hurling stones into the void, I trudged back the way I’d come, and when I reached the bedroom door, I decided to tap into my instincts, mentally telling my brain to go to hell.
I walked in resolutely and climbed onto the bed—not on my side, but on yours.
Feeling my gentle weight on top of you, you woke up and smiled, as if you’d been expecting it.
Your smile was enough to melt my soul, which had been waiting for nothing else.
The white lingerie set that had caused a national scandal landed miserably on the floor.
I never knew if you’d pretended to be asleep.
That evening we skipped dinner to feast on each other; we wanted nothing more than to love one another.