Training in Love (29 page)

He
doesn’t leave me a second of pause and perhaps I am cured because I don’t feel
the least trace of awkwardness, because the only thing I feel in this moment is
pleasure, an immense pleasure which gives me shivers on my arms, back and
stomach.

When,
after an undetermined amount of time, he leaves my mouth, he’s breathing even
harder than before and I take a step backwards, swaying.

We
look at each other without speaking for an instant, then he takes me by the
arm, loads me on his back and starts running.

“W-What
are you doing?”

“I’m
going back.”

“I-I
can walk b-by myself.” I don’t have the strength to fight any harder than that.
His kiss, his hands have reduced my limbs to gelatin.

“You’re
slow,” is his only answer before shutting himself in an obstinate silence.

The
road for fifteen minutes of walking becomes not even five with Andrea running.
He doesn’t appear to be even a little hindered by a weight of exactly sixty-six
kilos on his shoulders. Okay, he’s an Iron Man, but good grief…

When
he finally lets me down, he does it in front of the passenger side of his car.
I turn to look at him questioningly and he takes my face in his hands and
kisses me on the mouth again. He’s devouring more than kissing it, with his
lips, his teeth and his tongue. When he lets me go I’m almost stunned and I let
myself be pushed without even a minimum protest into the seat of the car. He
buckles my seatbelt and runs to the other side. He gets in and begins to drive
like a madman – like-a-madman. During the ride silence reigns and I hold onto
the door handle with all my strength, with my heart beating like a Moroccan
derbuga. When I feel feebly able to speak I ask him, “Where are we going?”

“To
my house.”

Neither
of us says anything, but from his driving I can see that he’s calming down a
little at a time.

He
parks in front of a house, turns off the car, but doesn’t get out right away or
do anything, not even speak. He looks straight ahead of himself.

After
a while I clear my throat and dare to ask him, “Have you calmed down?”

My
voice must have brought him back from whatever place he went because he inhales
deeply and stretches out in the seat, lying back and sliding down until his
left elbow comes to rest on the door and his left hand covers his eyes.
“Forgive me, I…”

He
swallows and doesn’t look at me. He remains with his eyes closed behind his
hand. “I… It’s that I completely lose it if I think… when I think…”

“Yes,
I got that,” I save him the trouble of saying it because I’m so good, that’s
why.

Finally
he takes his hand from his face and turns to look at me. “Do it with me. Here,
now. Not with him.”

I
look away and turn towards the window of my door. It’s a beautiful day and this
residential area is full of trees and plants. “Look Andrea, this isn’t a
contest to win by going faster, pushing harder…”
Also because if it were a
competition, you would have won it almost immediately. A long time ago.
There, maybe let’s not say this to him, since we just said the opposite…

“I
know… It’s not that I think it’s a competition, it’s that…” He pauses briefly.
“I can’t imagine you in the arms of someone else, I can’t do it. I… want you to
be with me.”

“Andrea,”
I say to him, looking at my hands in my lap. “You feel like this only and
exclusively because you heard that there was someone else. If I had been alone,
at home reading a book, you would not have had this desire to get your hands on
me at all. You’re a sportsman… competition is part of you… you have it in your
blood… I understand.”

“And
that’s where you’re completely wrong!” He exclaims with such conviction in his
voice that I instinctively turn towards him. When he locks his eyes with mine,
he continues, “It’s months that I’ve had the desire to get my hands on you… months.”

I
sigh and look out the window again.

“Do
it with me.
Now,” he repeats simply.

I
think for a moment in silence. He’s not in love with me, that’s for sure,
otherwise he wouldn’t have waited all this time to make some sort of move, and
most of all he wouldn’t have had a different girl on every fucking occasion in which
I saw him before he left. But me? I began this journey because I wanted to quit
putting off living. Because I wanted to begin to be the protagonist of my life.
I wanted to begin to live to the fullest, and in all senses. I wanted to feel
everything, the beautiful and the ugly, the good and the bad, and ever since I
decided, a lot of things have changed. Now I have the opportunity to do it for
the first time with the person I’m in love with. And, in the end, it isn’t that
important if he doesn’t feel the same. Maybe the important thing is what I
feel. And I’ll feel a lot of things if I do it. I already know. I’ll feel such
a range of emotions that it will cancel the last ten years of an apathetic and
anesthetized life. Perhaps it will last me for the next ten years. At least
I’ll have a stratospheric memory of this experience when he throws me away like
a used sock.

Slowly,
with a trembling hand and without looking at him, I press the button on my
seatbelt and unbuckle it. I hear him inhale sharply and hold his breath, but I
don’t turn and he doesn’t say anything. With slow gestures I free myself from
the seatbelt and open the door. When I close it behind me, he is already by my
side. He passes a hand through my hair, resting the other on my hip and
whispers, “Finally… finally…” And he kisses me again, this time delicately. Oh,
delicately as though I were a flower from which the petals would fall with a
slightly deeper breath.

Then
he picks me up and a plaintive “But why?” escapes me.

“Ssshh.”

“Why
won’t you let me walk today?” I persist, set on ruining the romantic
atmosphere. “Since you already did the Iron, you don’t care anymore about
getting a slipped disk?”

He
laughs and shakes his head, walking quickly towards the door of a bordeaux-colored
house. It’s very bucolic, full of plants in vases and flowers all around the
entrance. And even the yard surrounding the house is full to bursting with
vegetation.

“Let
me walk… I still have six kilos to go, I need to walk…”

“You
have nothing to go. You’re perfect like this… You’re more than beautiful.”

My
heart is about to burst and maybe it’s better that I’m not walking. I would
have fallen on the ground in this moment.

22.

Once inside
he sets me down at last. I look around and observe his house in the half-light.
It seems deserted.

“No
one’s here?” I ask looking to the left. There is an open plan kitchen with an
island, then a corridor and a stairway separate it from the living room. There
isn’t an immense amount of square meters, but the disposition and the choice of
furniture give the impression of largeness.

“My
parents are still on vacation with my sister. They come back next week.” While
he replies he pushes me lightly with a hand on the back towards the stairs. “My
room is upstairs,” he whispers as we go along, and just the idea of entering
his room makes my knees shake.

It’s
the first time I’ve come to Andrea’s house, so I am looking around me. I know
that one look is enough for everything to remain impressed forever in my memory
– like this silent staircase, covered with cream colored carpet, very English,
like the corridor on the upper floor, in the shadows because the bedroom
shutters are closed, like this door in white wood, the first on the right climbing
the stairs.

He
opens the door and gently pushes me in.

The
room is not very large, but it is so neat that it seems larger than it is. “My
God…” A whisper escapes. “You’ll never come into my bedroom…”

“Why?”

I
sigh, looking around me enviously. “Because my room isn’t this neat even when
I’ve just finished cleaning it…”

It
is almost completely furnished in white, and this clean color really suits
Andrea. The window, opposite the door, is large and has white curtains,
slightly pulled back to let in the sun which illuminates everything. The white
bed (made! And I might mention, his parents are even on vacation for heaven’s
sake…), the white, very furry rug at the foot of the bed, this last situated
immediately to the left when you enter, and the white wardrobe in front of the
bed. Only the walls are colored with a faint blue.

Under
the window there are cube-shaped book shelves with lots of books and on the
bedside table, where there is a very simple lamp, there are a couple of books
with pages marked too. Right away I go to look, without asking permission, what
Andrea reads before going to bed. I hear him laugh behind me.

I
turn around with the volume in my hand. “
The Alchemist
?”

He
smiles. “I’ve already read it, but from time to time I review the fundamental
concepts…”

I
turn without commenting and take the second book –
Choose What You Eat.

“What
an interesting combination…” I leave the two books on the bedside table and go
towards the shelves with the intention of nosing through his books. If you tell
me what you read, I’ll tell you who you are…

But
he, probably sensing my intentions, stops me by taking my arm. “No, no, no!
After, maybe I’ll let you look through them. Now no more wasting time.”

I
turn and, as I do, he takes off his shoes without bending over, pulling the
heels with his other foot.

Looking
at the books was a way to relieve the tension which now relentlessly overrides
everything.

“Relax…”
He whispers, beginning to kiss my neck, as though he had read my mind. I take a
deep breath and try.

It
doesn’t seem possible that I’m here. It doesn’t seem possible that he’s
touching and kissing me. And when he does it again, on the mouth, all the
shivers that had temporarily drifted away return.

“You’re
trembling…” He murmurs in my ear.

“Not
with cold.”

He
laughs, “I know, it must be ninety degrees!”

I
give him a light shove on the shoulder. “And don’t tease me… I won’t put up
with being teased by someone who has no sense of humor!”

He
pulls back, stopping all his maneuvers and looks me in the face, serious. “I
have a great sense of humor!”

I
laugh. “I wouldn’t say so!  Maybe a little, you aren’t exactly without one, but
almost…”

He
opens his mouth in astonishment. “Ah, so it’s like that?”

I
nod, laughing. “Yes, it’s just like that!”

“Alright,
now look what a sense of humor I have…” He says pulling off my T-shirt rapidly
and throwing it on the floor, taking me and throwing me in a less than elegant
way on the bed and making me bounce on the mattress.

I
laugh some more. “What’s that got to do with it?”

He
takes off the T-shirt and I immediately no longer feel like laughing. Then he
lies on top of me and murmurs, “See how I made you laugh?”

I’m
no longer able to answer and, for a little, the only sound interrupting the
absolute silence is that of our bodies brushing together and our deep
breathing.

When
he takes off my pants and shoes, he stops for a moment, kneeling on the bed,
and looks down at me. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers softly, and my heart is
bursting. I stretch out my arms in a mute request for him to return to me,
because I already miss his contact with me. Already I’m cold without his heat.

“Andrea…”
I sigh after a while. He doesn’t answer, lost in the kisses and caresses we
continue to give each other for I don’t know how long. I’ve lost track of time.
It could be two minutes or two hours. I don’t know. Where I am now, time
doesn’t exist.

When
he removes my bra and brushes my nude skin, I see his hand tremble and I almost
can’t believe my eyes…

He
kisses my breast. I feel his warm tongue and his lips which close and open on
my nipple. All I see is the golden color of his hair and when I close my eyes,
the luminosity of him and this room, of this moment remains impressed on my
retinas.

I
caress him, finally. Finally I can touch him as long as I want, wherever I
want. I fulfill all my desires, repressed for months, burying my hands in his
hair, caressing with all my love his shoulders, his face, his arms. My hands
run over his wide back, and savor the sensation that his skin gives me.

He
kisses me everywhere, slowly, without hurrying. He touches me everywhere, going
up and down like a hot wave on my body. I find myself completely naked and I
wouldn’t even be able to say exactly when he took off my panties.

It
has no importance. I’m not ashamed in front of him, not any more, not in this
moment. I feel good, as though it were my house, as if it weren’t the first
time that we did it, but the hundredth. And this is an absurd feeling, because
I’m feeling all the excitement of the first time too. I was right. What I’m
feeling, I’ll remember forever.

When
his face comes back into my field of vision it’s all red and his eyes are
almost shining. “Olly,” he says in a whisper, “I can’t wait anymore.”

Even
if I’ve never done it before, I understand immediately what he’s saying and I
nod, swallowing. It’s about to happen, and even if I know very well what’s
about to happen, the theory is always an ocean away from the practice, as they
say.

“Don’t
worry, I’ll go slow.”

I
nod again, while a shiver of excitement runs through me.

When
Andrea takes off everything (because he’s kept his pants on until now) I think,
instead, that unfortunately we won’t be able to do it. It’s impossible.

“Don’t
worry,” he repeats, as if he were reading my mind for the hundredth time. Maybe
it’s not he who is good at it, it’s me who doesn’t hide my emotions and my
thoughts well at all.

I
nod, unable to let out the smallest sound from my throat.

He
stretches out over me, his face exactly over mine, so close… I caress him,
stretching my neck to kiss him softly, just once. He gazes at me while holding
himself with his elbows on the bed. He strokes one cheek with his thumb.
“Olly…” Then he doesn’t speak any more, too concentrated on slowly entering me,
physically entering me, because the rest of him has already been inside for
some time.

He’s
watching me so closely the entire time. He’s observing my every expression,
every sigh, and he gives me a kiss every time a sound of pain escapes me
involuntarily.

When
he’s all inside, we are both breathing with an effort. He is visibly trembling.
“It’s only like this… the first time…” He tries to reassure me. “Only the
first… My God…”

I
stay still for a little and wait for him, breathing slowly, trying to relax my
muscles and get used to the size of him. Suddenly he kisses me with a surge of
passion, still trembling and still breathing hard. “I have to… Can I move now?”
He asks me speaking in a low voice, as though we shouldn’t let anyone hear us.

I
just nod, because I’ve lost the use of words.

At
first he moves gently, then slowly, in a gradual way he increases the rhythm
until he lets himself go completely without looking at me again, with his head
bent and breathless – concentrating on the movement and the pleasure, his arms
extended to hold himself… And then, with a last, forceful push and a noisy sigh
he collapses over me. He falls on me as dead weight, completely. He’s so still
that if I didn’t hear his rapid breathing, and see his back rise and fall, I
would start doubting that he was still alive.

Maybe
this is my favorite part – to feel his weight, his letting go, his closeness,
his head abandoned on my chest at the level of my heart. To be attached, in
silence, after the most intimate act of love between two people. Of all these,
really, I don’t know how to choose my favorite part. In every moment I thought,
“It’s this, this is my favorite moment.”

I
sigh, happy.

“Olly,”
I hear his voice, slightly drowsy with sleep, while his breathing swiftly
becomes normal. “I’m sorry.”

I
laugh softly. “About what? Having made me happy?”

I
hear him sigh. “To have hurt you, when for me it’s been one of the most
beautiful moments of my life.”

I
remain breathless for a moment. “It’s wasn’t that tragic,” I make light when I
think I can manage to speak normally again.

I
hear him sigh again as he stretches out an arm without looking and slowly moves
his fingers to play with my hair. “The next time it will go better, and then
even more, more all the time, until you feel the same immense pleasure too.”

I
don’t say anything because, as far as I’m concerned, as much as it hurt, I’ve
already felt immense pleasure.

We
stay like that, in silence, until I hear his breathing become deep and slow.
Then I embrace him as tightly as I can in this position, I hold him close to me
and close my eyes too, with a smile on my lips.

***

We
wake up after a little while. I don’t know what time it is. The sun is still
high and shining, and personally I am still in the dimension without time. It’s
a fantastic dimension.

Andrea
gets up from me and moves beside me with a sound, stretching himself. The bed
must be a full, because it’s big enough to be comfortable in two. I don’t have
time to feel remotely awkward before he pulls me towards him with his arm,
switching our positions and laying my head on his heart and lazily caressing my
hair.

For
a while no one speaks, until he breaks the silence. “I can’t believe that
you’re here…”

This
statement makes me laugh.

“Why
are you laughing?”

“Because
I was thinking the same thing. It’s just that I didn’t think you were thinking
the same thing…”

He
doesn’t answer immediately. He lazily strokes my arm resting on his chest.
“Didn’t you see that I liked you?”

“What?
When?” I answer, laughing. “When you showed up with a different girl every time
I saw you anywhere?”

“Going
out with girls doesn’t mean anything.”

I
don’t feel the same, and I’d like to ask more. I’d like to ask for all the
details, but I don’t know if I have the courage to hear the answers.

“And
then, I thought you hated me.”

“Who?
Me?” I ask, lifting myself up on my elbow to look him in the face, truly
surprised.

He
laughs, putting a lock of my hair behind my ear. “Yes, you.”

“But
I told you I don’t know how many times that you’re beautiful… Well, maybe not
in those terms, but I made remarks that alluded to that… No, I even said just
that on one or two occasions.”

He
smiles without saying anything for a bit, then he laughs softly, shaking his
head. “The evening of Hermetic poetry I really thought that you hated me…”

At
the memory I swiftly lower my head on his chest, hiding behind my hair which
slides forward like a curtain. “It was just a joke…”

“And
then,” he continues with the same tone, “no girl who likes a guy organizes a
thing making him kiss a crowd of people, male and female, because I’d like to
remind you that that day I was also kissed by two guys.”

“On
the contrary, a very stupid and very masochistic girl can do that…”

We
are quiet, then I stretch out, putting my face on his neck, breathing his scent
of mint and caressing his chest with my left hand. “Andrea,” I whisper, “The
evening of the twins’ birthday… weren’t you… it wasn’t true that you didn’t want
me to waste my first kiss, you were just… jealous?”