Two bits of news (as usual, one good, one bad).
Fabrizio has bought a little apartment downtown where we can see each other without being discovered by our respective families.
On the phone he was all peachy: “I’ve had a gigantic screen mounted in the bedroom so we can watch some of those flicks, eh, little one? You’ll have your own set of keys, of course. A big kiss on your lovely little face. Ciao, ciao.”
This is obviously the bad news.
He didn’t give me any time to respond, to make him aware of my uncertainties, my misgivings. What he’s done seems so rash to me. I had intended to go to bed with him one more time and then arrivederci and grazie. I don’t want to become the lover of some married man with a daughter to support! I don’t want him, his apartment, his gigantic screen for porno films; I don’t want him to buy my complaisance as if he were buying his high-tech gadgets. I’ve suffered enough with Daniele and the arrogant angel, and now, just as I’m restarting my life on my own terms, this fat, necktie-wearing ogre comes along and tells me he wants to commit himself sexually to me. Yet punishment always hovers over our heads, the sharpened point of the sword is poised there, ready to pierce our skulls when we least expect it. The sword will strike him as well, because I shall seize the hilt.
Now for the good news.
The phone call arrived and ended punctually.
I was naked, sitting on the floor, my skin touching the cold marble in my room. As I held the phone, the voice I longed to hear reached me fluid and sensual. He told me one of his fantasies. We were in a classroom, and I was following one of his lessons. At a certain point, I asked him if I could go to the bathroom, and on my way out I gave him a note that contained two words: “Follow me.” I was waiting for him in the bathroom; when he arrived, he ripped open my blouse. With the tip of his finger, he gathered some of the drops that dribbled from the tap in the sink and dabbed them on my chest, where they slowly trickled down. Then he lifted my short pleated skirt and penetrated me, as I leaned against the wall and gathered his pleasure into my viscera. The droplets were still trickling down my body, wetting it, leaving thin trails on my skin. We regained our composure and returned to the classroom, where from the first row I followed the chalk flowing across the blackboard in the same way that he was flowing inside me.
We touched ourselves while on the phone. My sex was swollen as never before, and Lethe was flooding the Secret in waves. My fingers were impregnated with me, but also with him, I felt him close by, despite the circumstances, I felt his warmth, smelled his scent, imagined his taste.
At 10:15 he said, “Good night, Lo.”
“Good night, Professor.”