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“I’ve been quite frustrated as of late.” His voice sounds exhausted, which causes me to grow weary with concern. “My brother has gotten worse. His sickness is…difficult. I’m unsure how to cope or how I may assist with his behavior.” The last few words echo in a defeated tone.

I do not turn to speak to him face-to-face. That is one scenario we do not practice. I fear that my life and misfortunes might ruin this, and I do not want to ruin this one thing, these few moments that are my secret. My own bubble of joy that I may escape to, no expectations, no problems to solve, just understanding. I lean farther onto the bench, poking my head out so my words can come out as a soft question.

“Are there any medications that may be able to treat him? A physician perhaps?”

He exhales loudly, then gives a small chuckle before replying, “His condition is all in his mind. His brain is an enigma. The doctors believe it is caused by the stress of our childhood, and not many treatments are available. They discussed medications, but those would dim him completely. Hell, they even discussed a lobotomy, but that was an asinine recommendation. Sticking a sharp shard into someone’s eye socket while scrambling their brain matter…”

His voice trembles on the last couple words, emphasizing the weight this scenario holds. His situation is not for the faint of heart. Throughout the years, he has relayed stressful stories regarding his brother’s behavior in public, at work, and even toward himself. He could be erratic, cold, and border the lines of psychopathy. My hands begin to scratch at the border of the bench from anxious the emotions bubbling up from within.

“I’m so sorry. Is there anything I may do to assist?” My words feel like an empty balloon, for how could I provide the necessary aide? I rest my head back onto the cold wooden seat as my hand grips the side of the wooden settle.

Silence lingers between us like dust particles suspended in air.

“I’m…” Before I may mutter any more words, a large hand wraps around mine, easing it from the side I have grasped, tenderly holding it. Air catches in my chest at the abrupt gesture, one I welcome as my shoulders tense with anticipation.

His deep voice calls from the other side. “There is nothing you may do, and I could not ask more from you after listening to my whinging. I shall only express my gratitude within this moment, for these times are what I need—what I long for—during the darkest of days.”

“I’m glad to provide a place of comfort for you.”

His thumb trails small circles along my hand, causing my skin to prickle from the contact. “Please tell me what is new on your side of the world. Distract me from my sour life… From my loneliness.” I frown at his words. I quiet the urge that grows within me to stand from my table, reach for him, and embrace his body with mine.

With all the stress he currently holds, I could not bear to place my misfortunes upon him. I am a harbinger of misdeeds; I would bring his downfall, and he would be my undoing.

“We have new choreography for the cabaret. It is much more eloquent and sensual. Then I must travel again. This time to the Dead Sea. More textiles to obtain for my other business ventures.” A small chuckle escapes me as I wish to tell him the truth. Wish to confess all of my sins and lay them before his feet.

I still, while I feel my hand moving at the side of the settle. Up and up it extends until the caress of lips can be felt on my knuckles. My heart takes off like a scared hare, thumping within my rib cage. The touch is not entirely foreign; many of my deceased spouses would kiss my knuckles or the top of my hand in greeting, but this…

This is different. This is warranted. This touch I want.

This touch I crave.

“It must get lonely traveling so much. Do you ever get lonely?” As he poses the question, each word is felt upon my flesh from the movement of his soft lips. I imagine them, fighting the temptation to peer over and gaze at his face. For several years we have met, but this is the first time he has been so bold in his mannerisms.

And I am thoroughly enjoying the rush.

“I do get lonely at times, but I’ll curl up with a book and escape. The characters are my companions sometimes, or my cat accompanies me at times, when I travel.” As I explain, I can feel him place a long languid kiss to my ring finger, then slowly move to my other digits, slowly giving them attention.

Desire warms through me as I tighten my thighs together. I have never felt so flushed before in my life. Before another wave of temptation can pass over me, he politely drops my hand to the side of the settle and I hear the wait staff approaching with our orders.

“Madame and Monsieur, sorry for the long wait. Thank you for your patience, and here are your items sir.” Rubbing my hands atop my legs, I give him a small smile and nod, hoping my face is not too flushed from our interaction.

“May I fetch you anything else?” He asks both of us and we state in unison, “No.”

The waiter leaves, and the fall of silence blankets us like a winter frost. We enjoy our croissant and coffee in peace, but my mind is compiling lewd thoughts.

“I am sorry if my movement was too brazen,” his voice calls from the other side.

I nearly choke on the last flaky portion of my pastry.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” I make my statement much more boldly than I’d intended.

“So you enjoyed my forward advance?” I can hear the slight chuckle at the end of his question.

Is this coquetry?

If so, I must say, I am enjoying it more than I had ever imagined I might.

“I must say, I do. I enjoy your advances. I’m having a hard time pulling my thoughts together to have a complete conversation. Was that your intent? To fluster me with your presence?”