RED: A Love Story [Featured List]

Part 2: Black 7 - Something different

Ten holds one and zero, the harmony between opposites. Nine embraces three triangles: body, mind and spirit. Eight lies down in the infinite. Seven is heaven - seven musical scales, seven colors in the rainbow, seven virtues. Six contains the two triangles of dialectics. Five adds up the senses that capture matter. Four calls God's name with the elements of nature, the seasons and cardinal points. Three brings the synthesis of father, mother and offspring. Two is me and you. One is the genesis of everything.

A minute point suspended in the multidimensional space, the starting point for all lines of creation: the number One.

Marco held the ivory die between his thumb and index finger. Pensive, he contemplated the small white square with the dark dot in the center.

The game was a living organism. The rules and number of tosses changed, combining to create from simple to the most complex variables. Each toss affected the next. The first tossing could also happen to be unique, locked within itself with a categorical meaning. With no escape.

That had been the case the previous day, before he cheated. Marco took a deep breath. No. He would't cheat. He was tired of subterfuges.

He knew exactly what he had to do.

Marco put the die back in the nightstand drawer and began preparations in an elaborate ritual-the devil, as they said, was in the detail. Diligence became a trance. His mind wandered, making plans and anticipating, while his hands worked in an uninterrupted flux as if someone else directed them.

The valise with accessories remained forgotten under the bed while Marco arranged the bedroom. This time there would be no incense and port. Or whiskey, for that matter. He changed the linens and opened the window to invite in the fresh air. When everything was ready, he undressed-the odd sensation of peeling off an old skin-and stepped into the shower. Closing his eyes, Marco let the water run over his body for a long time. He felt all of a sudden exhausted.

Once he was done washing, he wrapped himself in a towel and proceeded to the bedroom. The ring of the cell phone on the bed yanked him off his thoughts with a startle. He dried his hands quickly and answered it. It was her.

"Hi. I just wanted to hear your voice... I can't explain. You're different this time." She made a pause. "Are you already taking care of preparations?"

"Yeah," Marco answered in autopilot.

"Did you stop by the sex shop?"

"No. And I know exactly where you're heading with this talk." He couldn't help a smile.

"Hmm, coming from you, should we infer the plans for tonight involve an erotic literary classic?" She gave a wicked chuckle.

"I generally don't use work material for leisure."

His cheerful tone sounded contrived. She didn't grasp that and tried guessing: if it wasn't a classic, then surely it was one of those dirty books... No, not a dirty book. A film? Neither. Her strident curiosity was starting to get on Marco's nerves. When she finally gave up the guessing game, he remained quiet. And she, assuming he was too busy to talk, cleared her throat and awkwardly said goodbye. Marco hung up and took a deep breath. He didn't like to admit it, but he was anxious.

For the first time in quite a while, expectation dominated him. He hadn't the faintest idea of how that evening would turn up. It was not his partner's reaction that made him uneasy though: he knew how to maneuver and lead her precisely where he wanted her to go, predicting her resistances and needs, guiding her sensations to wake up dormant instincts she hadn't even dreamt of. He could carry out effortlessly. It was relatively simple to deal with the other, for he was able to step back and see in perspective. The problem was when he had to predict his own reactions and come face to face with this other that was himself.