The Girl Behind the Mask (24 page)

I sent the email, then I went for a coffee with Bea. She was full of stories about her security-guard lover that would have been worthy of Luciana. I let myself be distracted by tales of her guy.

When I got back to the university there was something in my inbox. I hoped that it would be Marco’s response to my last email, but to my surprise, it was from Steven. He’d sent it from his personal email address, I noted at once, not the office one.

Dear Sarah,

I imagine you’ve given up expecting this email. How long has it been since you walked out on me? Almost three months, I think. That doesn’t mean to say I haven’t thought about you every day. It’s more the case that I’ve been stuck for words to describe how I feel about what happened between us. And Kat.

My heart contracted at the name of the girl in the mask but I read on.

Sarah, I understand why you jumped to the conclusion you did. I suppose I would have done the same. If you had waited long enough to hear the truth – stopped shouting and really heard it – perhaps you wouldn’t have run away as you did. I was not lying when I said that Kat and I were not having an affair. We’re still not. I could never be in love with a girl like her. My feelings for you were, and still are, too strong to make any space for another woman in my heart.

Sarah, no other woman could ever compare to you. Your intelligence and your humour captivated me from the moment you walked into my class seven years ago. I remember so clearly the first time you smiled at me. The love in your eyes! It felt like coming home. I knew at once that I wanted to be with you. There was no one I would rather talk to, share ideas with, share dreams with. I loved you from the very beginning. Our relationship was never just about physical desire.

However, the fact is that I am a very physical man and, you have to admit that after seven years, a physical relationship can’t help but go stale. Remember how we used to laugh at some of the couples we knew? The ones who had clearly stopped fancying each other? Perhaps we shouldn’t have laughed at them so heartily, because losing your lust for a partner is agony when the love doesn’t disappear at the same time.

That night, after we went to the club, you accused me of trying to force you to leave me by flaunting my relationship with Kat. On the contrary, Sarah, I was trying to save us. The question of what might become of us as our physical desire for each other waned had been preying on my mind for months. We were drifting. The distance between us was growing by the day. We hardly touched one another any more. I didn’t want to break up with you but I was feeling like a steam kettle about to explode. I didn’t want that pent-up desire to explode as a full-on affair, so when you suggested the night at the sex club, I was relieved beyond imagining. I thought it was your way of telling me you wanted to experiment too. I thought we might be saved.

The evening, I thought, was a revelation to us both. I felt closer to you than ever as I watched you explore your desires. I thought we had reached a new understanding. But when you found out I already knew Kat, that changed. I realised from your anger that you had only suggested going to the club to please me. There was no hope that we could rediscover our passion through exploring that world after all.

I have thought about you endlessly, dear Sarah. I miss you terribly and I don’t know what to do about it. Perhaps I didn’t write to you before because it seemed there was no hope you would ever forgive me. We were right for each other in so many ways, I hate to think that is the case.

I would like to be with you again. If you feel the same way, let’s end this stand-off. I love you and I want you in my world, but I have to tell you that we will need to do something about our sex life. Something to bring the excitement back. If you’re not prepared to do that, then you were right to walk away. I’ve never wanted a vanilla sort of love. If, however, you think back on that night in the club and can admit you found it exciting too, then for God’s sake let’s be together. I got that post at the Sorbonne that we talked about. I leave for Paris in a month. Come with me.

Yours always,

Steven

I couldn’t believe my eyes. I read the email again, looking for the punchline. ‘A vanilla sort of love’ certainly delivered a punch of one kind. I felt my soul curl up with shame as I remembered the night in the club, the release I had felt in Kat’s arms and my subsequent fury at the idea that Steven might want her too. My hand hovered over the delete button. To think I thought I had come through the worst. And yet Steven said that he loved me and missed me. He wanted me back by his side. My soul leapt at that. Wasn’t that what I had dreamed of? If there was still love left at the heart of us, couldn’t I bear everything else?

‘A vanilla sort of love.’

The words were still echoing in my brain when another email came through. Perhaps if I hadn’t just read Steven’s attempt to win me back, perhaps if his email hadn’t left me feeling dull and naïve and horribly provincial, I would have responded differently. This second email was from Marco.

‘I have an important question to ask,’ he began. ‘You must answer me with absolute honesty. Do you ever find yourself aroused when you read about Luciana’s adventures?’

‘Yes,’ I wrote back. ‘Yes, I do.’

Chapter 36

My response to Marco was followed by a period of silence. It was early evening. Nick and Bea had left for the bar. I remained behind, claiming I had work to do. That much was true. I did have a lot of work to finish, but what I was really intending to do was reply to Steven’s email. How I would reply, I still did not really know.

I sat at my desk with my head in my hands, weighing Steven’s offer of reconciliation. He thought about me every day. Didn’t I do the same? Think of him, that is. I thought about the specific things I missed about him. His laugh, his smile, his warm hug on a winter’s day. The way he made scrambled eggs on a Sunday morning. If we could get the sex part right, I could have all that back. That was what he was promising. But getting the sex right was now a whole different game from upping the ante with expensive lingerie and whipped cream. Whenever I thought about sex with Steven now, the girl in the mask was not far behind. Her cat’s eyes. Her perfect pout and her childlike crooked teeth. Her breasts like two scoops of ice cream. Would I have to share everything with women like her from now on?

I started my email to Steven a dozen times but didn’t finish it.

Then I heard from Marco again.

Thank you for being so candid. I don’t think I expected such a straight answer. But now I am intrigued. Have you ever touched yourself while sorting through her letters or reading a passage in her diary? I have to tell you, Sarah, I like the idea of you being in my library, all alone, with your hand between your legs as you read about the sexual awakening of our heroine. In fact, that is all I am able to think about when I know you are in my house. I picture you in that dusty room, sitting at the antique desk. I see you leaning forward in concentration, with your hair twisted into a bun to show off the nape of your neck. I long to place my lips on your neck and breathe in the sweet scent of you.

What was this? I shivered before I read on.

When I close my eyes, I see your slender fingers on the paper, carefully tracing the words in that faded, swirling hand. I long to take your hand and kiss your wrist. I long to place your cool palm against my face and feel you soothe all my cares away.

Then I would take both your hands and lift you to your feet and ask you to come with me, to one of the comfortable chairs. Would we fit in there together, do you think? How closely we would have to hold each other to squeeze into one seat together. I want to be close to you. I want to feel your heartbeat fluttering against mine.

I think about what it would be like to peel off your clothes, slowly, and reveal the woman beneath. I want to press my lips against your naked flesh. I want to feel your warmth and breathe in the perfect smell of you. I want you to sigh in my arms.

Will you touch yourself for me, next time you are in my library? I want you to imagine I am with you. Imagine that your hand is my hand. Please tell me how it feels when you think of your skin against mine.

How did it feel? I was hot and cold all over. Without really thinking about it, my hand had drifted between my legs while I read Marco’s email. Of course, I had already imagined what it would be like to have Marco make love to me in the library. To know that he was thinking about it too was electrifying. For the moment, all thoughts of Steven left my mind.

I wrote back to Marco.

‘Where are you? This is ridiculous. Can’t you come back to Venice and help me make this fantasy a reality?’

‘I wish I could. But for now you will have to make do with the fantasy. If you like, however, I could be with you virtually, in real time. You take your laptop with you into the library, don’t you? All you need to do is go online. I will give you the pass-code to the house Wi-Fi.’

I don’t know what surprised me more. That Marco was suggesting virtual sex or that the Palazzo Donato had Wi-Fi.

‘You want to have cybersex?’

‘If that’s what you want to call it. Will you do it?’

I couldn’t help but draw parallels between what he was asking me now and the way I had tried to bust through my prejudices to keep Steven by my side. Was this any different? Marco was certainly asking me to do something I hadn’t done before. It wasn’t high on my list of ‘must do’s. But I didn’t want to be hung up any more. I didn’t want to be ‘vanilla’.

Marco seemed to sense my hesitation.

‘I want only for you to be happy. I didn’t expect you to be so blunt in your answer to my question about the diaries. I would never have revealed my own fantasies otherwise. This is for your pleasure, Sarah. If you don’t think it will please you, then you must tell me ‘‘no’’.’

I told him I would think about it. He sent me the login details for Palazzo Donato’s network.

Back at my apartment, I stayed awake until late, going over my relationship with Steven in my mind, trying to come to a decision as to whether there was something worth saving. Or perhaps I should put him behind me once and for all and go after something more than emails with Marco.

Chapter 37

The following morning I set off for the library as usual, but this time I was nervous. I had my laptop with me, fully charged and ready. Of course, that wasn’t unusual. I often took my laptop to the library. That morning, however, it seemed conspicuous. Was I really planning to have a virtual assignation? Had I got so desperate? I hoped that Marco would have forgotten his proposal. I soon realised he hadn’t.

Silvio opened the door to the house as usual.

‘You will be here on your own for the morning,’ he informed me. ‘Signor Donato has asked me to collect some papers from his lawyers. I will be gone until midday at least. They always take their time.’

I had wondered how Marco would guarantee Silvio would be unable to interrupt me at my ‘work’. Here was my answer.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘How frustrating.’

‘I will go to the market on my way back,’ he added.

I nodded.

‘I hope you are worthy of my employer’s trust.’

‘Believe me,’ I said to myself. ‘I hope the same of him.’

So Marco had arranged everything. I let myself into the library. The fire was lit. Luciana’s papers were on the desk. So far, no different from any other day. I unwound my scarf and took off my coat. I sat down. Still, I waited for an extra ten minutes after I heard Silvio leave the house, to make sure he didn’t come back for a forgotten umbrella or scarf, before I dared log in to Palazzo Donato’s private network. When I did, Marco was waiting for me on DM.

‘You’re late to your desk today.’

‘I’ve been at my desk for the past ten minutes, but wanted to be absolutely sure that Silvio wasn’t going to come back before I dared go online.’

‘He won’t be back for at least an hour. I’ve sent him to the other side of town and, as I’m sure you’ve noticed, he doesn’t approach anything with a particular sense of urgency. Thank goodness. So . . .’

The ellipsis blinked.

‘So . . . ?’ I typed back.

‘Are we going to do it?’

‘Yes,’ I responded, after a moment. ‘If you like.’

‘If
you
like, Sarah. You can still say no.’

‘I don’t want to say no.’

‘OK. But let’s not read from Luciana’s diary after all. I want you to tell me what you think it would be like if we made love. You and I. Tell me how to make you happy. Tell me what you imagine when you think about me.’

‘I don’t know where to start.’

‘Then maybe you should open the top left-hand drawer of the desk.’

I did as I was instructed. Inside the drawer I found a small vibrator, shiny black and the size and shape of a pebble. I picked it up and held it in the palm of my hand. It was smooth to the touch. Expensive. I pressed the on button and felt the buzz, which could be varied in intensity from a faint throb to something far wilder.

Marco messaged me.