What about kismet? - 5. The Law of Attraction: Opposite never attract

Chapter 5:

The Law of Attraction: Opposite never attract

“Black & White equals gray. Would you want your relationship to be as gloomy as the most depressing color palette? Maybe green and violet, shit...what kind of color is that? Yeah...shit!”

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“Luke? Luke...wake up dearest!”

“...WAKE UP! Your interview is about to start in an hour.”

I open my eyes and there he is staring at me, just like the first time. Those piercing blue eyes that lacks judgement for any of my actions, his dishevelled hair that corrupts me like a tantalized fool, and that soft red lips that meet mine with no hesitation, no regret and no diminution of his worth. There he is, just like yesterday, like today, like those days when only he knows, he is there...simply there.

The gleaming light from the transparent glass window burrows through the flaps of my eyelids one more time. He whispers my name, only my name. I remember what day it is now, today is my interview.

Today is the day of all days where my fate lies on another man’s judgement, besides his, for a lack of better word, my future. I remember now, just as he touches my chin as he lightly yanks one of the hairs that have spurt due to my condescending whim to delight him to his satisfaction.

He whispers in the air, “You haven’t even shaved! Do you really want be interviewed looking like this or do I have to shave you myself?”

His words are too surreptitious to understand, unrecognizable by my hearing, yet he speaks clearly without sound – silent to anyone but decipherable only by me. I pretend to close my eyes, thinking that he would not catch my ruse. I feel something familiar, a known object touch the side of my lips.

‘A finger’...

no,

‘His lips’,

yes.

My eyes, barely open, still lamenting the perturbations of his breath, as it gradually peeks to perceive the scent of that incredulous roses and lavender aroma, probing through my nostrils as I seek its owner. I see now that satin dark brown luxe of hair, those locks that twirl around my fingers, and those eyes that are now milder but bolder, as it peeks through mine.

‘He probably wants to know if I’m still asleep.’ I wonder.

I feel his head on my chest. I feel his breath escape my skin. I feel the heat of his own oxygen as it seeps in the barriers of my shell, the only layer that protects my heart. Yet my heart he owns it, wields it, and nourishes it with unfathomable attention that even I cannot breathe.

But then he makes me yield, makes me a simpleton of his desires, desires that only my welfare would wish not to want only if he is never here. But he is here, because I need and want him here.

Alas, my eyes open and I hear every sound that enters me as it sweeps its way to the windows into our four-cornered room. The music of the street, as the sound of cars, subway, people in a rush, the flapping of the wings of a pigeon, the consternation of the disruptive sounds that affects my focus, his silhouette that aids my ministrations to separate all noises except his...only to hear his breathing.

No, not a noise...but a cycle so attuned to my hearing, the air as it passes through his lungs is a joy to me, and the only food that feeds my living. The mellow inhale and exhale of that one person which for me, matters amongst others, is the one thing I live for the most.

I move my left hand to feel the silk of his back, caressing underneath his white shirt. The smooth bearings untouched by none, for only I could will it to his delirium – his skin, remind me of summer days that thrill me with pleasure, passion and hunger, and in winter, which heats my threshold to a frenzy of exaltation.

As my hand pulls the fabric that hides his back to the world of rendezvous and quick glances, the sun hits it directly under its envious gaze, and I gently knead the bones that curve along his spine. He lifts his head that has rests on the planes of my chest, he whispers in my ear “We don’t have time for that...” and he smiles, a smile that yonder the echo through my brain that screams ‘I am yours’.

My other arm, swinging on the edge of the bed as it hides from the scene, pulls his face towards me. Two forces, the east and the west, meet his jaw, as it slowly steers it to the opening of my lips. I tousle the sheets to the floor that once covered me with delight. I roll him over to my left, enveloping him and governing his body as my tongue flickers within his own.

A fight unleashes for a tourney only to the brave, a duel only to the weak of heart, and a victory for those who lavish it with ardent rapture. His taste, his sweet succulent taste sends a thousand messages to my whole being that heavens need not be across the horizon, it only needs to be here on this grander day.

We halt to devour this moment, the greatest of one. I see his face clearly as the sunlight wraps him while his eyes smile to meet my felicitations of contentment. ‘What a magnificent creature you are to have chosen me as the one that fills not only the void of your lust, but the void that fills the joyous choruses of your heart.’ I dare to say.

His finger sweeps the hair that dangles in my ear, pulling it back to welcome the glimmer of the sun.

“I love you...,” he whispers, as he repeats his elation closer to my ear. “I said I love you.” as he brushes his fingers along my cheek. His adoring eyes seek the answer that his heart covets, and my reply takes a simple gesture of “I love you more.”

He takes me in his arms as my weight buries him, while my fingers dig deep on his back seeking the heat of his body as friction dissipates in the sheets. He looks me in the eyes, tracing down to my lips, as he relishes the smell of my skin in the morning – he lunges towards my neck and a gasp escapes from the twitches of my mouth.

I close my eyes as I wait for his next move. He kisses it, softly, as he mounds his lips unto mine from which his overwhelming desire take hold of me. He stops. His head falls back on the pillows and he says “Good morning.” I open my eyes as I direct it to his lips. My stare widen to express my anguish that he pulled away, wanting more, yearning for more.

“Good morning?” I ask in reply.

“I’m not speaking to you. I’m speaking of the guy down there.” He gently stares under the sheets that embroider our passions.

“Oh.” I say in the meekest of manners.

“At least I finally woke you up.”

He laugh, and his laugh fill the room. That laugh, I remember that laugh, the laugh that consoled me a dozen of times too plenty to remember. I roll over to where I slept and I laugh with him, in unison, as our hearts that know too well that I am his and he is mine forever.

“You’re so beautiful.” He flickers the tip of my nose with a finger, so fine and gentle.

“I’m getting up now; you know I hate it when you tell me that.”

“You know I mean it.” He chuckles as his lips touch my forehead, to my eyes, to my cheeks and lastly, to the center of my universe, the lips that dreamed of him once upon a time, that he now can use at his disposal.

He rolls on his side, places his right arm to support his head, while his left hand trail the silk of my chest. I then say to him, “I thought you wanted me to be on time that’s why you woke me up this early?”

His fingers still probing as he feels the shape of my defined pectorals.

A finger brushes along the circles of my nipples while I whimper in the pleasure of his touch, the waves of my upper torso that he so adorned with dedication, and my arms that he fondles whenever his guilt over petty or heavy argument takes hold. He stops, then looks at me.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes turn a different shade when the light reflects on it? It’s amber green. And now, it’s golden with a hint of the lightest of blue – I sometimes ask myself why I deserve you.” He gasps for a moment, and then he chuckles, as his eyes see no inhibition to the limits of what he perceives.

“Okay, I’m really getting up now. You make me sound like I’m from Mars or from some other planet.” My body rises, then I look at the alarm clock beside the king sized bed that comforts us at night, and see 5:02 am.

“You’re no alien; you’re God’s gift to me.”

As I go to the closet to get my thick robe, I slide on my slippers and look at him in his direction and say, “That’s not a gift, that’s called central heterochromia.” I chide at him and then open the door as I look at him smiling and he says in reply, “Accept your gifts my dearest, and you shall have me.”

“I already have you.”

“I know, all of me.” He says, as I finally close the door.

I open the faucet, look at myself and notice the stubble of hair that has grown on my reflection. ‘I know he prefers it on the rough side, but just for today I better start hacking away my beard.’ I whisper to myself. I get my electric shaver, and trim the hedges of my growth that tickles his lips down to his core.

Minutes past, I get my toothbrush then layer it with a dab of toothpaste as the head oscillates in between the ridges of my teeth. I rinse off the remaining remnants lodged in my mouth’s cavern, and wipe my mouth clean with the bathroom towel, as I silently amuse myself for a job well done. I then head on the shower and switch the red knob as the warm water oozes down to my fingers, calculating the temperature that would set the mood of my warm bath.

I turn the handle of the blue knob to my liking. I relieve myself of my undergarment, followed by my thick robe that protects my bones in the cold winter morn. I step inside the frameless glass shower door, and delude myself in the water the trickles down my skin, as I breathe in the steam of the clashing temperatures.

The clicking sound of the doorknob turning makes way for the squeaking of the door. I become cognisant of his presence, as the translucence of the glass amidst the steam reveals his shadow. The door slides and his glorious body shine in front of me, naked, and without restraints. “Can I join?” he says.

Not a hint of shame or resilience wanders through his face and the quality that asserts the knowing comfort of a ritual we regularly shared. He tiptoes behind me and shares the warm water.

“Is this going to be one of those good mornings, or those AMAZING mornings that we have?” I swish my head to his direction, and then let out a gulp as I wait for his reply.

He picks the bottle of shampoo that I bought him – that leaves its user the smell of lavender and roses that lasts throughout the day; one of those brands that excessive money could only afford to buy. He then starts to lather the concoction in his palms, as he says, “Today won’t be THAT day. You need to concentrate dearest on your interview.” Then he emulsifies my hair of the aromatics of the mixture.

I shrug in admission for an ounce of truth that making love to him brings me to another world and everything else seemed mediocre for my attention. I close my eyes as I feel his fingers massage my scalp in patterns, relaxing, sensual and invigorating, only if his hands were to touch it.

He grabs the bottle of shampoo, and takes a dollop of its contents as he says, “I know I haven’t given you much attention lately, with my work and stuff...” then he moves himself closer to whisper in my right ear, “...but if you do well in your interview, I might surprise you. I took a personal day-off and I’ll cook us some romantic dinner at home, and you know what will happen next.”

His whisper sends tremors to my being, while the tiny stiff bristles of hair on his upper lip titillate my right ear that transcends to my nether regions.

He then adds, “But for starters, this should keep you up and running. I better get this cleaned first before I wash you.” I then twist my head to have a glance of his cheeky expression.

His right hand mechanically swings in motion to lather the aromatic mixture to my treasure trail and the hair that leads further down south. He moves his hips closer, right to the mounds that he so often fondles and cherishes.

I let out a sigh. Ohh...

His left hand starts to feel the taut muscles of my back as it slowly reaches the protruding glands on my chest, the two glands that sends shock to my fibers. I cringe at the feel of his left hand, and tremble with his right.

I let out another gasp as the warm water grazes my lips. Ahh...

His hips gyrate to my skin, as my two mountains arch back as it whimpers to the feel of his vessel rubbing it. I shudder with every rhythmic movement his right hand performs to my manhood as it slithers, slow, and it slithers again, and then slow.

I moan in exultation for my delirium. I bite my lips. I quiver.

My left hand grope his lower back, as it gives in to those soft velvety hills of perfection, round, plump, substantial in my need for indulgence, as my right hand reaches for his silken hair, grabbing hold of it and clamping my fingers with it.

The warm water engulfs his right arm, lubricates his grasp and increases the tension, to which my eyes pop in ecstasy, as the water runs down to every inch of my skin, as it pulsates with the breath that I exhale.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. In...hale...

His left hand departs my chest glands and considerately grapples my neck, softly, gently, as one of his finger traces the newly shaved hair on my Adam’s apple. My left hand quickly darts towards the intruder, and places the curious finger towards my lips. I suckle his finger, while my tongue familiarizes per se with the intruder, as I lightly nibble the foreign object, which coincides with every escape of my air.

I moan...and I breathe.

His pulls his finger from my yielding lips, then his own lips replaces and reaches for mine instead...a playground of sorts as our tongues intertwine, flicker, lash, as his mouth covers my breathing passage limiting its sound to express my elation from his right hand that shakes my soul like a piston.

Mmm...The sound becomes vague.

He retracts his lips from mine, and he manages to speak of words despite our senses, which instigates all provocation. He whispers to my ear, “You make me happy.” I nod to his simple profession of his contentment, while my lips seek his lips.

He continues to rock his right hand while my eyes shriek in haphazard directions as his lips shower the shaft of my neck of kisses undeserving for his amorous disposition.

He tilts my neck to gain more coverage as I whimper, as my left hand pulls his neck towards his goal. He hastens his pace, my knees weaken, a cacophony of minute howls engulfs the room, and my right hand clenches its fist as it collapses to the marble of the bathroom wall.

My lungs expand to heave in the oxygen it could muster, while his left hand grabs my entire chest, as my eyelids dim in delight due to his hands that glorify my whole soul.

Exhale...Ahh!

Inhale...Ohh!

Ex...hale...Aaaahhhggg!

The surge of fluids erupts in harmony with the last of his strokes, as the warm water hovering above us, helps to contain the white fluid flowing towards the floor.

Certain euphoria enthrals my whole body as a hypnotized loon, while my breathing returns to its normal intakes of air within seconds. He lifts his right hand, the artillery that I never reckon with, and then he sucks the remaining white fluid, untouched by the water, and sips the remaining essence that latched on his fingers. He then says, “What a good way to start breakfast.”

His eyes seemingly enjoy seeing the fluid that rested on his lips, as he tastes the sweet taste of my essence.

Still panting, I reply by saying, “And this is your idea of me not getting late?”

He manages to land me a peck on my right cheek as he whispers, “All because I can, I want to and I need to. Haven’t you figured it out yet? This is me saying, show ‘em what you got sexy bugger.” He snorts and slaps the two mounds from my behind.

“I could never argue with you if you’re always going to be like this...so decisive and cunning.” I chuckle.

“You forgot assertive. And since you’re head over heels for me now, might as well agree with me.” He starts rinsing his body and slides his way out of the stained glass panel door.

“You’re not taking a shower? I ask him.

He says, “Already did.”

“If you really want me to reconsider, let’s talk it over at dinner later. I already miss your cooking babe. Promise, I’ll give you my final word to that thing you want.” I smile at him as I lather the bar of soap.

He heads to the towel cabinet and grabs a blue satin robe, as he says, “Fair enough. I will make salmon fettuccine and tomato concasse for dinner, one dish that makes everything win in my favor.”

“We’ll see.” I say to him with the sincerest of smiles, as I hear him say with excitement, “I’ll make us breakfast. Hurry up will you...you don’t want to be late when you face Chris later.” He walks towards the laundry basket near the bathroom sink and picks up the dirty laundry, then he closes the bathroom door.

The smell of breakfast invites my nostrils as I salivate in anticipation to what he has served at the table. I exit the bedroom, go down the stairs towards the kitchen, and see him reading today’s newspaper, hunched back while his legs rests on the corner dining lounge. He notices me, and then he bobs his head to look at my formal wear in astonishment.

“You look dapper today Mr. Cornwall. I assume you finally decided to wear that exquisite tie that I gave you.” He smiles, as he feels proud that I have gotten the courage to wear my birthday gift this year.

“Do pink polka dots really make me pop out?” I ask in worry.

He signals me to twirl as I follow his command. He stares at my form fitting custom-made blue pinstriped William Fiovaranti suit, which I wore at my mom’s 54th birthday at our estate last year, in Oxshott, Surrey back in the UK.

He raises his eyebrows in shock at my off the rack discount black suede shoes then he says, “Your mother will love me more for having made you wear that tie and that expensive suit, but those shoes...you’re not serious, are you?” He snickers, then laughs and goes back to his reading.

I sneer at him for his snarky comment then ask him, “So...do you think they’ll accept me now just because I wore expensive clothing?” I laugh at the afterthought of such irony.

“Dearest, if you don’t eat your breakfast and catch the train...you’ll never be on time for the interview and you’ll never know if you got accepted. Chris won’t wait for you even if he loves your essays. Just...relax okay.” He rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his strong smelling coffee.

I take a seat and look at the table and see a platter of food fit a king who is about to be late on his interview. I see a stack of blueberry pancakes, two pieces of wheat bread, and eggs on toast with bacon on the sides, two sausages, and a fruit-blended smoothie. ‘How am I supposed to eat all of this?’ I whisper to myself, not intending for him to hear me. He raises one of his eyebrows and says, “You’re not going to have any leftover scraps of food, got that?”

A feel a slight anxiety as he pulls away from his seating and takes the knife and fork in front of me as he signals me to open my mouth. He cuts a piece of bacon with the knife, impales it on the fork and grabs the egg on toast, then he smiles at me and says, “Say AHHHHH, you big baby!”

I vociferate my unwillingness to cooperate on his whim and on his puerile behavior as I shout, “NO!” while he takes the opportunity of my opened mouth and shoves the food inside it as I nearly choke while trying to scramble for a drink.

“Why do you have to do that...I’m not a kid.” I say to him, as I reach to get the glass of smoothie he had made.

“Says the guy who needed someone to wake him up, get his clothes from the dry cleaners to wear on his appointment, give him a morning hand-job, and cook him his breakfast.” He stares at my idly as he puts down the knife and fork on my plate.

“But...hey, the morning quickie wasn’t entirely my idea.” My cheeks swell at the thought of what had happened earlier.

“True. But you complain too much.” He said, while he moves to the adjacent seat beside me.

“Okay okay, I am a baby. But...your only baby.” I take my fork and start munching on the food on my plate.

“That will change soon enough. It gets lonely here you know, when you’re not around.” He laughs and reaches for his cup of coffee.

“I have till tonight to think about it, remember.”

“I know.” He then gives me a smirk.

After finishing every morsel of food he cooked and prepared for me, I put the plate in the dishwasher, and then I grab my sling bag on top of the white sofa in the living room across the kitchen, and then slide it on my shoulders. He looks at me with surprise as he finishes his cup of coffee, “I can’t believe you’re going to use that THING together with what you’re wearing. You totally have no fashion sense...thank the heavens that you have me.” He chuckles as he puts the mug inside the dishwasher. I approach him slowly in the kitchen and give him a peck on his cheek, and hurriedly slap his bottom.

“You should wear an apron the next time you cook me breakfast, you sexy.”

“I’m only cooking breakfast since you can’t make mine today. Maybe I’ll wear nothing but an apron later. I should definitely buy one later for kicks.” He says to me with a stern expression on his face.

I chuckle at his reply and say, “Ohh, I should wear my naughty Sponge Bob bikini briefs for tonight. So what will you be doing while I’m gone?”

“Uhm, probably have lunch with my sister before I do some groceries.”

“Oh, you’ll be meeting Allana later? Please tell that skank to return my notes on our business finance class. I have to start studying for our midterms.” I say to him while moving towards his back, hugging him on a tight embrace while smelling the scent of his nape.

He stands still for a second, and then he turns his head towards me and says, “Will tell her. By the way, what time do your classes end?”

“A quarter till four. I could go with you later to buy your ingredients if you like?” as I answer his question. My arms slowly move towards the warmth of his armpits, hidden under the white long sleeved polo shirt he is wearing. He quickly pulls my hands and clasps it together on his chest, as I lay my head on his nape.

I always had a fondness for his armpits, not that I am into that certain kink. I just relish the warmth it provides me at night as I snuggle comfortably under one of his pits, while he reads a book, and he caresses my arm, as I curl myself and hug him tightly until I fall asleep. The following morning, I would wake up nestled under it still with the book on his other hand and his chin gently lying above my head. I would feel guilty in those mornings that he would have a stiff neck, just so I could be in his arms the whole night, and him...at peace, but with a stiff neck.

“Just get me some fresh Cilantro and Basil from the organic shop near 14^th Street. I’ll be done with everything by the time you come home, okay.” He turns around to face me and we share a quick kiss.

“You always blush whenever I smell the back of your neck.” I say to him as I focus on his luminous blue eyes, and land a peck on his lips while my arm brings his body closer to mine.

“It’s just wonderful when you’re like this, so...aware without me asking.” He grabs the back of my head and torridly kisses me. A minute past then he pulls away all of a sudden and says, “You better go now before I take off all your clothes and we do it here in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, I do need to go now. I realized that when I felt something poking me.” We both laugh to my implication, then he ushers me out to the door.

“Before I leave, call me at around half past 2, before my next class starts okay.” I walk two steps out of the door and turn around to see him holding out the door for me.

“And you call me right after your interview. Did you bring everything that you need for today?”

“Yeah, I have. Well, except you.”

He gives me his warm and earnest smile then says to me, “You’ll get to have lots of me later dearest, and I’ll get to have all of you for myself. Just focus on what to say to Chris. Why do I keep on calling you dearest? THIS is what I get for living with you...” He chortles.

“I told you so! Giving me a name for your terms of endearment is a lame idea. Why don’t you call me honey pie instead? My luscious apple-pie.” I wink at him and await his reaction.

“Oh fuck, you just made me vomit. I’m closing the door now.” He says with disdain as the door closes, while I burst out laughing at his disapproval for my suggestion.

I quickly get my phone and compose the words, ‘I LOVE YOU! That is enough for me to know that you love me too!’ as I walk to the elevator coming from our two bedroom condominium unit, at 441 East 57^th Street, Turtle Bay, in the upper east side of Manhattan which I bought five months ago when I decided that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.

And what better way to start that new lease of spending that forever with someone, is when I asked him to move in with me, for which he did with much convincing on my end.

My phone vibrates, and I immediately open it to see his reply to my text message that says,‘I love u too. More than u will ever know. J’

The elevator door opens, I enter the lift and press the ‘G’ button and it closes halfway. I nod at robust woman behind me, as a courteous welcome. The door nearly closes when I see him dashing towards the entrance.

He puts his feet to one side of the closing door to impede it from shutting itself, and he grabs my head and kisses me for a minute’s duration, then he pulls away and says, “I’m sorry for saying it. It’s no competition...I love you and that’s that.” and he steps out of the lift, and the door closes as I see his incandescent smile that radiates the life in me.

I look at the black elderly woman behind me, who lives on the upper floor of our building, and then she asks me, “Is he your boyfriend?”

I then say to her with a proud smile that stretches across my cheeks, “Yes mam. He surely is.”

“I have a son too who’se like you.” She says while carefully assessing me, she then adds, “I don’t see him as happy like that with his partner, as his mother...that really makes my blood boil. I told him to dump that sorry freeloading son of a bitch and find em’ self a good bloke. But he tells me he loves that sorry trash of an excuse for a boyfriend.”

I listened to her prattle about her son as she went on while keeping a mindful ear and a constant smile on my face as I listen to her without having to say a word. She then says, “You’ve got a keeper there boy. Better give him some roses when you get home or whatever two guys do when they’re in love. He’s some sweet fine ass man-candy if you ask me.”

I manage to say something to her while keeping a straight face not wanting to laugh at what she said about that concerns him, “I know mam. Will surely do that when I get home.”

We both stepped out of the elevator as her chauffeur, who is waiting in the lobby, approaches her. We give each other one last look and she says, “You be careful now boy not to break his heart, or else I might just steal him from you. I know where you two live.”

“It would break mine before I could break his.”

We both parted farewell smiles as she slides into her limousine.

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That was the best morning I had, as I remembered. The only morning I cannot seem to remember to forget.