RED: A Love Story [Featured List]

Part 1: White 16 - The graduation

One, two... eight, nine... fourteen, fifteen... She counted sixteen shelves in the bar before taking a side access and the panoramic lift that, immersed in a faint haze of light, took her straight to the rooftop. There, a vestibule wrapped in dimness led to a corridor fitted with translucid onyx of yellow veins. The stone emitted diffuse clarity like an ethereal tunnel.

C'mon on overOver the bridgeBridge the gapJazz up closerC'mon over

As she proceeded through the corridor, Marisa discerned the whispered singing of a deep house track. With soft notes of piano and guitar, the music kept growing into the restaurant, where a colored hostess in an impeccable blue dress waited. When Marisa mentioned the reservation under the name of Marco Aurelio Fares, the hostess grinned.

"Oh, yes, Marco." She pointed to the far end of the restaurant. "He's waiting for you on the terrace."

Marisa advanced through the long room in half-light, glancing at the large windows that leaned over the park right across the street. Once the water mirror was transposed, the room expanded onto the elevated deck beside a rectangular swimming pool with submerged lamps, which drew a fiery frieze along the edges and fairy circles of red in the water. On the opposite side, pairs of white loungers lined up under lanterns and square parasols. At that point, a flutter of butterflies and jazzy notes overflowed in her bosom...

Marco was idling on one of the loungers, his shoulders relaxed, one leg folded and the other stretched. He too wore black, with a new shirt that emphasized his broad shoulders. She rehearsed a sideway approach and, without making any noise, covered his eyes with both hands. Marco inhaled deeply-Vetiver-and grinned. Marisa lifted her hands, sitting next to him. She brushed a kiss on Marco's lips and then on his neck.

"Hmmm... I like it. What cologne is that?"

"Acqua. I decided to go for a change. According to the ad, this fragrance is gonna emphasize my virility and give me an irresistible aura of refinement."

Marco's playful expression vanished when he took his time to admire Marisa, pausing on the curves shaped by the dress and on her mouth. For a moment, he envisioned the two of them in a room of the hotel, where he would be able to yank off her dress and lipstick... He flirted with a change of plans, but forced himself to dismiss that thought. Tomorrow they would have the whole night for play.

"You look stunning. It's a shame you must hide under that wig. But it won't be for too long, I promise."

"Let's focus on the bright side. I feel like a spy in a secret mission, which is kind of fun. And I'm feeling more optimistic now that school is finally over. Everything will work out fine with my mom and next spring we'll have that picnic under the cherry trees, with a special cheesecake just for you..." A pause, another flutter of butterflies. "Hey, Marco, did I mention I love your company?"

"I love yours too, Mari." He stroked her hand. "And your cheesecakes."

She took those words with laughter, looped her arms in his, glanced around. The flickering glow of white candles poured onto the deck center, and a dotted line of lights followed the plant beds on the sides. An island in the heights, the terrace was surrounded by transparent glass plates, floating amid the night that twinkled with distant skyscrapers and neon towers.

"This is beautiful."

"Nice, isn't it? This is one of my favorite spots in Sao Paulo," he said.

"You are like one of those Russian dolls that one opens to find another doll inside, and another. I didn't know this side of you."

"Which side?"

"Your eclectic tastes... traditional bistros, transvestite bars, trendy restaurants..."