Page 67 of Kaine

It’s like we’re two different people. Any barriers between us are completely gone.

But I have no doubt that by night’s end, I’m going to need to taste more of her than her finger.

“My turn,” she whispers huskily and she scoots over to me, her bottom lip dropping open.

“What would you like?” I ask her, because it’s safer than telling her what I’d like to do to her right now.

“Surprise me,” she says, closing her eyes.

I reach into the basket for the box I was meaning to save for dessert. It’s a small handful of maple glazed chestnuts, a French delicacy, rarely sold except during the Christmas. I’d hoarded a box at the office after a trip to Paris but now it seems the perfect time to break it open. I unwrap the sticky chestnut from the cellophane and lower it to her mouth, slowly tracing the line of her lips, letting the crystallizing glaze cling to her. Her tongue darts out, unable to contain her curiosity and she licks the almost sickly-sweet nectar from her lips. Once they’re clean, I wait for her tongue to disappear back into her mouth before I gently press the chestnut past her lips. She devours it immediately; soft moans vibrating from her throat as she savors the musky, nutty, unctuous morsel.

“Oh my god, what was that?” she finally says, her eyes lazily opening, her voice thick with satisfaction.

“That was a marron glacé, a glazed chestnut,” I tell her, secretly thrilled that she enjoyed it so much.

“It was divine,” she sighs.

“Yes, it was,” I say, giving her a wink.

She giggles and reaches for some of the marinated eggplant and pops it into her mouth, licking up an errant drop of olive oil from the corner of her mouth with her tongue. Watching her makes me realize I am famished and we take turns feeding ourselves and each other until almost all the food is gone.

Hardly a word is spoken as we watch the sun set while we suck on the last of the plump raspberries, washing them down with the champagne. During the meal she’d moved closer and closer to me, and now her back is resting against my chest as we both face the river.

“Kaine?” she says, soft against the night breeze.

“Hm?”

“You don’t have to answer but...” And I already know what she’s going to ask. But I wish she wouldn’t. “What- what happened?”

I don’t answer.

I don’t answer for a very, very long time.

She doesn’t push it but she doesn’t say anything else either. I, on the other hand, can’t get Xavier’s “just ask her” comment out of my head.

“How about this,” I finally speak up. “How about we get three questions each? We get to veto the question but then we lose one of our questions. If we don’t have any left, we have to answer.”

“Deal,” she says instantly, nodding her head in agreement.

I laugh, “you don’t want to think about it?”

“No, because, I’m ready to answer anything.”

“I wish I could be as confident,” I tell her, honestly.

“You should be. You can tell me anything, Kaine,” she says, squeezing my hand. “Okay, who gets to go first?”

“Well, you already asked your question!” I tease her.

“No! That was before the game. I take it back now!” she sits up, protesting.

“Okay, okay. But you can still go first.”

“Okay,” she takes a sip of her drink as she mulls over a question. I’m surprised she doesn’t immediately repeat her last one. “Ok, how did you know about this place?” she asked as she waves her hand in front of us, gesturing towards the building.

“Well, um, I used to work in this building,” I tell her. “It’s one of the last ever printing presses in New York City. I worked here, illegally, when I was 13 and sleeping every night right over there.” I turn to point to the stack of discarded wood on the ground about 50 feet away.

“You’re kidding. You lived on the streets?”