Jack's house was big, of
course, and in a close where all the houses were different. Outside, in the
streetlight I could see elegant white statues of two sphinxes, reminding me of
something I’d watched on TV about Egypt years ago. It smelt of money. But right
then, for once, I wasn’t interested in the location or what it might look like
if I drew it.
Inside, everything was clean
and so luxurious I thought I must be dreaming. In the hallway, I stared at the
mirror framed with carved wood that glittered gold in the light. In the
reflection, I saw him come close, lean down and kiss the back of my neck, our
two heads blended together, one dark, one fair. Seeing us like that made me
think of monsters or magic, and I almost laughed. Without asking, he took off
my jacket, half-caressing my shoulders as he did so and making me shiver with
excitement. This was going to be one hell of a one-night stand. Or first date.
Which was it? God, please God, let it be
the second choice. I’d do it with him now, no need to give me dinner. He
only had to ask.
“Is this too quick for you?”
he asked.
I shook my head, but my
stomach rumbled, giving me away. He laughed and stepped back.
“All right, that’s settled.
Food first. I promised you food, didn’t I? Is pasta all right? It’s what I had
planned, and there’ll be plenty for two.”
“Okay.” The wait would only
make things better. I followed him into the large, oak-lined expanse of
kitchen, running my fingers over the smooth work surfaces and wondering if I would ever afford such luxury. Maybe, one day, when I had a
gallery of my own, somewhere I could place my artwork and watch people admire and
buy it. One day soon. While I dreamed, Jack cooked real spaghetti, not the
dried stuff, and added chopped chicken, herbs and sauces, the heavy smell of it
filling the air. I watched him, drinking in the way he looked, the way he
moved, and the fair down on his arms that glowed golden like the mirror frame.
At last he smiled. “Michael,
if you continue eating me up with your eyes, there’ll be nothing left of me at
all.”
I looked away at once.
“That’s a shame,” he said.
“I was enjoying your attention. But here, have some bread while you’re waiting.
The pasta will be ready soon.”
It was. I began to eat what
he’d placed in front of me. It was delicious, and I knew fresh pasta would now
always be my favorite. Whatever happened. He, on the other hand, didn’t even
pick up his cutlery.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I asked
him, between mouthfuls.
“Yes,” he said. “But not for
food...”
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