Because there is no tomorrow
The summer wrapped up New York in a hot and irrespirable atmosphere where strong smells got mixed with an implacable and persistent heat. The world seemed to turn into sweat that not even the coolness of the night falling over the city managed to ease. The air had been burned into a torrent of fire that brought a dry apathy, an exhausting torpor to people's slightest gestures. She used to hold his head close to her body, between her legs, as his tongue was brushing her flesh in consecutive waves but as soon as she arched her back and closed her eyes the multiplied sensations got troubled by a drop of sweat running down her spine; her breath was loud, her lungs in pain for not finding the right dose of oxygen.
The fork danced in the plate, making the lettuce twirl around the cherry tomatoes, pushing away the olives as the fine chips of parmesan plunged in the depths of the dip. She wasn't hungry at all. The high temperatures had slowed down her metabolism and all she could think about was the pleasure of some drink sliding along her throat, giving life back to her senses. The lunch was rocked by the permanent humming noise of the air conditioner and the repeated sighs of the customers, trying in vain to fill their chest with the required dose of air.
Grace folded the newspapers she was reading and cleared her voice, still lost in some article.
"Listen to that, Karen…"
The millionaire raised an indifferent eyebrow towards her friend and grabbed her martini. Her whole body seemed to relax under the contact of the cool glass with her skin in a hungry anticipation of relief.
"According to investigation led in Nebraska, 95 per cent of women between 30 and 50 years old think that their sexual partner suffers from early ejaculation… So?"
She choked on her drink and coughed loudly, making people turn around; stare at her with curiosity. Her cheeks were burning; her hands shaking. She calmed down a little but a smile began to play on her lips. She felt like bursting out laughing but she was way too intimidated; she had been taken by surprise. Her usual self-confidence had flown away like a house of cards under the interior designer's mischievous insinuation.
She took a deep breath and passed her tongue over her red lips; shrugging.
"First of all I don't live in Nebraska and second of all… There's 5 per cent left."
Grace pouted, obviously disappointed by the chaste reply. Coming from the eccentric Karen, she had expected something bolder; an ounce of confession. She looked furtively at a waiter circulating between the tables before narrowing her eyes dreamingly.
"I always knew he was a good fuck…"
"Damn Grace, shut up!"
Karen cleared her voice, studied the room in an embarrassed silence then lowered her voice.
"You have sexual withdrawal symptoms or what? Since when do you speak about men's erections and their capacity to make it last a little while?"
The remark made the interior designer smile, amused by her friend's reaction. It didn't look like Karen to be embarrassed before such topic. It was cute to see her so intimidated; surprising but nonetheless touching. Did that mean the dark-haired woman had never had so strong feelings for someone that all of a sudden she had difficulties to assume them properly? Had she never been in love before? The eventuality hit Grace with a cold sharpness. She started thinking about Karen's husbands; the men she had shared her life with. Her conclusions were blurry, a bit lame.
"Does he know that you love him?"
The lightness of their talk vanished in a whirl of bitterness. The millionaire looked aside and raised her eyebrows, vaguely resigned.
"I don't know, maybe… I haven't told him…"
"But he's not that stupid. He must have guessed something."
"Then why does he spend so much time with him?"
She looked at Grace with sadness and despair as if she were pleading to her friend for an answer; the right one that would relieve her heart and ease her pain.
'Him'; she couldn't even say his name, his status according to Will. She was right though. The attorney had spent a larger amount of time with his date and for two weeks in a row Karen and him hadn't met at the hotel; hadn't phoned each other.
And then he had come back, one night; as if nothing had happened. She had got his text message in the afternoon; waited for him hungrily and within a minute they were panting on the floor of the room, clothes littering the bed as she was succumbing to his kisses again.
Grace frowned, shrugged; almost apologized in front of her.
"I have no idea."
They paid for their lunch and walked in opposite directions. Karen went back to the office as Grace headed to some medical appointment for April. Her high heels sounded loud in the silence of the room. She sat at her desk and began to file her nails.
She was vaguely falling asleep when some steps made her jump. She turned around and looked at him. He was standing on the doorframe, briefcase in hands. Hiding her surprise she smiled at him; spread a bit her legs. They had never done it at the office, for it breaking the rules of their implicit and absurd pact, but she felt like sending everything to hell for once; the compromises, the lies, the weight of impossibility.
He smiled back at her and shook his head, amused. But it only lasted a couple of seconds and very soon a troubling flame invaded his eyes. He straightened in his suit, looked down at the floor. He seemed confused, scared. She froze before his attitude and started shaking uncontrollably. A long and painful sigh escaped from his lips and he locked his gaze with hers; murmuring.
"I need to talk to you, Karen."
Something stopped in her heart and the sudden iciness caused by the change contrasted sharply with the heat of the air. Don't do that, honey. Please don't do that; not now.
Why do we love like there is no tomorrow when obviously everything always comes to an end?
She looked at the hardwood floor and swallowed back the bitterness of her thoughts; then nodded.
