Carnem Levare (2 page)

“
Ahhhh!” he cried out. His
declaration hammered at his chords. “Ahhhh!”

He wasn’t even able to cry out again before he
erupted. Anastasia pulled away, shocked. Her cheeks displayed how
very inexperienced she felt.

Lowering her head, though peering into his face, she
added, “Was it satisfying?”

He could not speak, but merely declared his
love.

“
Il mio amore!”

Stefano then repositioned himself on top of
Anastasia, plunging his supreme erection deep inside fresh,
untouched walls. They clung to one another’s naked flesh.

Bliss.

Excitement.

Fulfillment.

The cradling of Stefano’s growth against Anastasia’s
walls became an affirmation, a promise of forever. Each movement
inside her expanding tightness, the penetration developed from
simple need to must have; must occupy. Stefano’s hips thrust
wildly, causing the bed to shift. Their noisemaking filled the
room, bouncing about the rich furnishings, seeping beneath the
doorways.

The servants gathered outside the partition, mouths
hanging open. There was little need to press against the white
wooden door for confirmation. Lovemaking, or rather the sound of
lovemaking, was an uncommon appearance from Anastasia’s room. But
they knew. No one dared disturb the mistress and her betrothed,
even though madre e il padre Soranzo would explode if they were
home. And so, Stefano and Anastasia shamelessly drew down scandal
into the typically quiet home.

Stefano left some four hours later. The couple was
able to rejuvenate and reinvent themselves. They did the things
that felt right and avoided worry. At the end of this escapade,
they swore eternal love. Anastasia, at the time, meant forever. For
Stefano, forever meant forever.

*****

When Stefano arrived home, his parents were
impatiently awaiting him. Their faces, etched with lines, matched
the quivering in their voices.

“
Stefano, we must have a family
meeting.” His father, whom Stefano had always admired because of
his calm demeanor, was now unsettled.

“
What is wrong, Papi? Is Marco
here?”

“
No, we don’t need to wait for your
brother.”

Stefano’s insides began churning.

A family meeting?

Without my older brother?

Then why label it as a family meeting?

They had not advanced from the entryway, though his
mother kept trying to nudge him inward. Stefano had a lurking
feeling that their lives were about to be changed. This mental
capability was the same one that had saved him in the past. He
would be prompted to move from one position to another, and in the
process had avoided accidents. From the time that he was able to
understand words, he realized that his senses were enhanced. This
time was no different.

“
Tell me,” he commanded of his
parents. His father gripped his shoulder, pulling his son into a
wide embrace. Stefano pushed away. “No! No!” He turned to exit the
home.

“
Everything is different now. You
must forget about Anastasia . . .”

Those were the last words he remembered hearing that
night:
Forget about Anastasia
.

Stefano blacked out. As he raced away from his
parents and into a flow of people, he became throttled by
heartache. He screamed, cursing to the heavens. Hearing the
commotion, his parents called for the servants to bring their son
back into the home.

Stefano’s rage was subdued while he was unconscious,
though the minute he came to, reality embraced him as before. But
this time, his mother stood off to the side of his large bed,
pleading for her son’s speedy return to his senses.

“
My son.” His mama stood up to lean
closer and examine his face. Her powdery foundation had begun to
fade away, exposing roughly aging skin. Her lipstick had become
blotchy, spreading beyond the thin lines of slender lips. The
powder-blue frock that was primed neatly only an hour before was
now ravaged and soiled with hints of bright red. At first glance,
one would think it blood. But as Stefano studied the woman’s
fatigue, he saw how very troubled she was. His heart
softened.

“
Why?” he asked, attempting to rise
up from the oversized monstrosity. “Anastasia was promised to me.”
Stefano’s voice quaked.

Papi Bonaro lowered his head, hands rubbing at his
hair.

“
Tell him,” Mama demanded. She
approached her husband and removed his hands.

“
How many times must I
apologize?”

Stefano’s mother walked away. She approached her son
and clasped her palms against the corners of his face, rubbing her
thumbs along his ear lobes. “Forget about the Soranzo family. You
will meet a more beautiful girl and fall in love much greater.”

“
Anastasia is mine,” he
pled.

“
No longer, my son,” she comforted,
though her voice was stern.

“
They are like family . . . they
are
family!” He fought back, his voice vibrating off the
walls.

“
Family, Son? Family?” Mama Bonaro
swung around from her son and took a hold of her husband’s wrist.
“Digli!”

“
Mia moglie . . .” Senore Bonaro
was determined not to tell his son of his indiscretions. He loved
this woman at his side, and valued his family.

“
You call me your wife, but bedded
my best friend . . . my childhood friend!” No sooner had her words
rushed out, she raced out of the room.

Stefano could not speak. He could barely breathe.
His parents’ trials were not what bothered him. They had lived as
he now chose to do, with love. As for his future, he knew that
another could never claim his love. His heart would eternally
remain with Anastasia.

And that day . . . those words . . . his promises .
. . the tears would never be forgotten.

*****

Stefano’s family did not back down from demanding
his attention to all that was valuable in their cause. Loyalty was
at the heart of their commandments. His body moved forward, while
his soul, spirit and focus dwelled in the past. And for months, he
functioned this way. Whenever his mind found solace in the memory
of Anastasia, he fell deeper into this wishful world. After a mere
sampling of her delicate skin, perfect cream breasts and delectable
juices, he could never consider moving on.

One late evening, as Stefano began feeling in a
passion, he marched away from his home.

Damn family mistakes.

Damn finding another love.

Damn living without Anastasia.

He no longer cared to store away his emotions, and
instead made heated flight to Anastasia’s forbidden home. As he
approached, lighting and visitors adorned the front. He heard
laughter and friendly welcomes. Stefano rushed to a nearby
alleyway. His heart was wildly thudding in his chest. He forced
himself to breathe at a reduced pace, until he was at a total
ease.

Rushing off to a nearby waterway, he confiscated a
rather poor-looking vessel. He knew how to easily maneuver the tide
and quickly reach his intended. From where he stooped, he could
hear several conversations in the distance, as people entered the
building from the waterway entrance. He silently awaited an
opportunity to steal into the home. With so many in attendance, he
couldn’t imagine that anyone would pay much attention to a lovesick
fellow.

“
Congratulations,” someone
declared.

“
We wish you all the
best!”

Stefano could not understand what it all meant or
the purpose behind this apparent celebration. Worrying about it
would only take his focus away from his reason for breaching his
family’s orders. So he moved closer through the other docked
gondolas, remaining undetected. His path was filled with light
until he reached the garden, where he remembered his and
Anastasia’s flirting that had eventually led them into adulthood.
He heard giggling; Anastasia’s gentle voice. Stefano’s heart became
swollen, filled with emotions.

He was ready to make himself known. After being
vocal for years about how much he longed to become her husband, he
no longer cared about their present forbidden love. His right leg
stretched outward to lie in the night’s subtle glare. But just as
he was about to fully emerge, he heard a male’s tone.

“
We shall have a baby girl, as
breathtaking as you,” the voice declared.

“
And a baby boy as handsome as you,
Antonio.” Stefano recognized Anastasia’s sounds. He would have
denied those words belonged to her, if not for the way her giggles
flooded the night. He even recognized the seductive manner in which
she rolled her tongue around the ‘s’ in handsome. That word was
meant for him, not some man. Stefano wanted to rush out, grab the
man and toss him to the ground. His fists balled up as he salivated
on how he’d smash the stranger’s face for ever propositioning
Anastasia. But he knew that move was impossible. So the jilted
lover pressed against the moist stone wall and wept.

*****

The following day, Stefano rejected family. They in
turn maintained a healthy distance. When he returned, his mother
greeted him. They didn’t exchange any words because his demeanor
said it all. As he fought against reason, Stefano became haunted by
images of darkness—blood-tainted waters, and even an unidentifiable
body floating face down in the water. The feelings that arose in
him were anything but terrifying. Then a knock against the door
rattled him away from this dark world.

“
Stefano,” his mother’s voice
funneled through the doorway. There was a ten-second pause. He
remained silent. “You need to move on. Anastasia has moved
on.”

Mama Bonaro left.

Stefano could hear the rustling of her gown and the
shuffling of her heels. In that very moment he hated his mother. He
despised the words she spoke but, more than anything, he cursed the
truth behind her declaration. In this torn conundrum, sleep
reclaimed his mind. This time, there was only black lighting, as if
that were at all possible. A tapping jolted him awake once more,
and he shot upwards, bolting for the doorway. He was under the
impression that he’d just barely fallen into a trance and his
mother was returning to taunt him. As the door was flung wide, he
momentarily found himself at a loss. In the entryway, beckoning him
forward and into her embrace stood Anastasia.

“
Il mio amore . . . mio Stefano . .
.”

He blinked uncontrollably, unable to determine if
his yearnings had somehow found free passage into the human world.
But when she advanced forward and into his bare chest, he knew her
to be real. His mind questioned the how, the why, the what and so
much more. But his lips couldn’t express his inner torment.

“
I’ve missed you so.” Anastasia’s
voice caressed him. She owned his desires as she shut the door,
making certain to latch it tightly. He remained in the same spot,
even as her fingertips spread across his chest. It wasn’t until she
reached down to capture his wrist that he finally moved. When her
lips engaged his palms and her tongue trailed up to twirl against
his fingers, Stefano moaned. He weakened, on the verge of becoming
a puddle of sweat on the rug, and was easily redirected to the
bed.

Anastasia aroused him as before, though this time
she exhibited much more experience. The way she held onto his
erection, confidently encasing it in her palms, skillfully
conversing with her delicate mouth and wildly riding it until she
drained him. This new woman was a hundred times more tempting as
his passionate vixen. But Stefano loved her a million times
more.

“
I will always come back for you,
Stefano,” were the last words she whispered that day, as she exited
his bed. He wanted to beg her to remain, but he had very little
strength left as he drifted into deep slumber.

Anastasia made regular visitations to Stefano’s
bedroom, leaving him unresponsive every single time. He often
thought to inquire about her relation to the man she’d been
planning with, though the words never manifested. When in her
presence, Stefano could focus only on his desperate urges.

*****

After months of Anastasia’s bedroom visits, she
abruptly stopped. Stefano would awake, eagerly planning how much
he’d give his lover. He would even have conversations that were
never to be heard because he knew that Anastasia was his ultimate
weakness. What they’d begun in her bedroom was a mere sample of
what was possible between the two. And what Anastasia had shown him
was beyond anything he could have ever hoped to reach with her or
any other woman.

There had been no prior warning, not even a hint of
knowledge indicating that she would be indisposed. And so, when his
parents headed out as normal for the start of the pre-Lent
celebration, Stefano fled home as well. He’d chosen to adorn a suit
of pure black, even to the three-sided hat. The only exception to
this ensemble was a spectacular, half-golden mask with a long,
slender nose. He hoped that his disguise would allow him to blend
in with the crowds.

As he drifted through hidden alleyways, the patrons
grew louder and thicker. Public engagements were not his forte,
though he’d make the exception for Anastasia any and every day of
his life. And with the thought of his lover, his object of
desperation, filing through his brains, Stefano moved about packs
of women that might have been his dearest. They were all hidden
away beneath tons of packaged frames in the brightest of whites,
most earnest of reds, and a multitude of clever varieties in
between. The accompanying peekaboo masks were glorious. But in the
eyes, Stefano hoped to name his Anastasia, the most amazing of
women to ever live.