CHAPTER 11
Matilda
“Do you drink?” he asks.
“Not too often.”
“Nor do I which makes the occasions that I do all the more enjoyable.”
He presses a button on the wall and a glass door slides open just off to the side of the kitchen. He steps inside and I can see that it’s some kind of wine room. I’m pretty sure it’s bigger than my first apartment, and there were two of us living there.
He reaches up and grabs a single bottle that’s on the top shelf.
My first inclination is to think he might be bringing a bottle of Dom Pérignon, but then I realize that’s something that an average guy can save up for and get and he’s anything but average.
And he doesn’t fail to surprise me when he re-enters the kitchen.
I’m sitting at the bar watching him. He sees this and without looking away from me removes two champagne flutes that are hanging above our heads and pours the glasses.
I was expecting something elegant, but the bottle is completely anything but. To be honest I’m shocked and not even sure what to think of it.
It appears to be covered in dirt or something similar. It’s kind of gross looking actually, at least in this light.
He hands me a glass and raises his, but doesn’t make a move to clink glasses and doesn’t say “cheers.”
“You may have noticed the unusual appearance of the bottle and considered whether it was a good idea to drink what is inside. Maybe you wondered if it was even safe,” he says.
He pauses giving me time to reply, but I’m not about to question his generosity or look a gift horse in the mouth. And I can tell he’s about to unlock the secret of the weird looking bottle before we clink glasses.
“This is the perfect bottle to symbolize what has happened between us tonight.”
We’re going to get dirty? Please don’t tell me his sense of humor is that sophomoric.
“This particular bottle was produced by the House of Juglar. They ceased to exist in the 1840s, but by fate this bottle survived a shipwreck on its way over from France and was pulled from the depths of the Atlantic before it found its way into my hands recently. That’s why it’s covered in barnacles. Some are approaching two hundred years old.”
“Wow,” I say. Why did I ever even consider there wouldn’t be extreme meaning and symbolism behind anything in his life? All his choices are so well thought out, even if done so in the blink of an eye.
“And I think it pertains to us. Everyday we take a journey and we assume that journey will go smooth…that everything will go according to plan. But sometimes we experience our own version of a shipwreck, which can define us in either a negative or positive way. As we see with this bottle,” he says, picking it up and examining it closely, “it has only made it more rare, more cherished, and more appreciated. Its ability to survive the elements of the outside world has only strengthened what’s in the inside. And it’s what’s on the inside, and the ability to hold on to that and seal out everything that doesn’t matter, that truly matters in this life.”
I. Am. Completely. Wet.
And I say nothing. I don’t even want to taste this champagne now. I only want to taste him.
I want to ask him if he’s sure we should be drinking this. I don’t want to be the one to think I came over to his house and drank his best champagne, especially within a few hours of getting to know him.
But I can’t. The glasses have already been poured and the meaning conveyed, and I know if I am anything other than appreciative, which I completely am, the significance of my comments will be strong and won’t communicate my true thoughts.
I want to accept his gift, I’m just not sure I deserve it. But I’m not about to be a rude guest, and I also realize the chance to drink this will never come again…unless another shipwrecks and we both find a way to live a couple hundred more years. Only vampires in the books I read are able to live that long, although he is one of the best doctors in the world with access to cutting edge technology. Who knows what the future of life expectancy will bring?
“That was beautiful,” I say.
“You’re beautiful.”
He stares into my eyes and pauses.
The kitchen is completely still, a stark contrast to the streets of the city. I swear I can hear my heart beating and surely he can too.
But he just looks so calm, cool and collected as he takes in the sight of me.
His eyes and body don’t move. It’s as if he has complete control over himself at all times, and I have to know if that extends to the bedroom. He did say primal, right?
I’m already forgetting things. Not so much forgetting but just temporarily rattled. How couldn’t I be?
“Cheers,” he says.
“Cheers,” I say.
We clink glasses and take our drinks.
He never removes his eyes from mine as he takes a sip and as I simultaneously raise the glass to my lips. As expected it’s completely unlike anything I have ever tasted. Ever. How that bottle was able to retain its flavor and effervescence all these years is beyond me.
He doesn’t ask me how it tastes because he already knows. Like sweet heaven on my palate. Incredible.
A quick visual flashes into my mind of us both naked on the couch in the other room. I’m on top of him pouring the bottle on his chest and then licking it off. As I become more intoxicated and more free I grab his cock and stick it in the bottle and then pull it out and suck it dry.
But I know his cock would never fit. I already saw the size of his lust back in his office.
And the longer he stands here looking at me the more I want to see it for myself. Uncaged, free, and then inside me.
“Please join me to take in the view of the city,” he says.
He walks around the island and holds out his hand.
I walk around to the end as well and continue forward, feeling his hand as it finds the small of my back perfectly.
I stop for just a microsecond. Just his touch sets me off. A light touch that makes me want to turn and drop this champagne flute with its priceless contents to the marble tiles as I grab him and pull his lips down to mine.
But somehow I’m able to resist…for now.
But I don’t know for how much longer I’ll last.
The animal inside me wants out for the first time, and just like that vintage champagne bottle I know one thing…once the top is off there will be no getting me back inside.