What Goes Around by Ruth Clarke

Author:Ruth Clarke
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inanna Publications
Published: 2019-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

42.

MY EXHIBITION WAS A SELLOUT, beyond my wildest expectations. Veronica and her staff had handled the publicity well. The ads had been effective, and I received good coverage. My ex was there for the opening, but by then it was obvious that Veronica and I were more than business associates. Any inhibitions we had had in Costa Rica—or perhaps the control we had practised—had been tossed out the window during my first night in the city.

We’d gone out to a neighbourhood trattoria for some clam pasta and red wine, both of us animated and energized, probably about the exhibition, but more likely from the sparks that might have been visible between us. We somehow managed to finish dinner, and I paid the bill. Then we walked arm in arm, breathing in the crisp fall air, to her place.

Her loft was spacious, open, and beautiful, with two walls of exposed red brick and a wall of windows, now with curtains drawn. A gas fireplace started with the flick of a switch and provided both warmth and atmosphere. I browsed her music collection while she made coffee. Her taste was eclectic: jazz, pop, folk artists, some Gaelic CDs, even a couple of didgeridoo recordings. I selected Stan Getz’ Finest Hour compilation, one I hadn’t heard in a long time.

Veronica walked in from the kitchen just as the sultry, sensual riffs of “It Never Entered My Mind” oozed from the speakers. She set the tray of coffee on the table and held out her arms to me. “May I have this dance?” she asked.

The highly lacquered pine plank floors were perfect for dancing. We moved well together, melded as one, floating in space. The piece ended, and we lingered on the dance floor, hanging on to each other for a moment before sitting on the couch to drink our coffee. She’d doctored them both with Baileys, something else I hadn’t had in a long time.

The goose down sofa enveloped us as we both dreamily gazed into the fire. She was tucked in under my arm, head on my chest. Awkward to kiss that way, and she finally realized that, too. She sat up, put her arms around me, and initiated what would be a kiss of marathon proportions. We only stopped for air and to change position so that we were lying together. There may have been a guest room, but I didn’t sleep there—ever. I stood and carried her into her bedroom where we continued our dance, undressing, exploring, and caressing each other. We made love and it was exquisite, satisfying, and ultimately exhausting. We saw the first hint of dawn and finally surrendered to sleep.

Veronica was leaning on her elbow, looking at me, when I opened my eyes. “Hi you,” I said. My voice was octaves deeper than I remembered it. I smiled.

“How did you sleep?” she asked.

“Well. Very well.” I traced her lips with my finger.

“And as we’re still lying together, I gather there is no remorse? No guilt?”

“A rhetorical question, my dear.

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