Page 56 of Casanova LLC

Alessandro

Walking back to the palazzo, arm in arm, all I could think about were those cornflower eyes, framed by black velvet, looking at me while we danced. And those charred blush lips of hers. And that creamy heaving chest, barely contained in that corset. All of that beauty coming home with me.

I hoped she’d gotten what she’d wanted. To feel desired. I had a feeling she’d been so busy looking at other people that she hadn’t noticed how other people were looking at her. But I had. I’d noticed all night long and it made me edgy. Like walking around with the crown jewels on a pillow, waiting to be robbed.

She wanted to be wanted. I understood that. That’s what her line of questioning was about: what do you like, what do you want? You, I was supposed to have said. But I couldn’t. My wants were off-limits. They were mine alone. They were not relevant to us, to our time together, to her experience.

But I needed to give her something. So I thought about the truest thing I could say that still kept us both safe and I said, into the quiet of the night, “I want to change your voice.”

“Huh?”

“You want to know what I want, I’m telling you. I want to change your voice.”

That vertical line above her pert little nose appeared. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve perfected that low, calm, cool thing. That I’m-totally-composed, everything-is-fine thing. That’s a composite of all the other voices in your head. I want yours alone. Your real voice.”

“How are you going to change my voice?”

I just smiled.

Claire

As we entered his palazzo, he asked me if he could get me anything, suggested one of those warming negronis. Those relaxing negronis. I said please, and excused myself to the bathroom.

There, I took off the little ruby shoes but kept the stockings on. I untied the mask and took off the wig, the skull cap, unpinned the coils of braided hair beneath, bent at the waist and shook it all out. There was nice body to my usually stick-straight hair now, even some curl. I looked in the mirror.

I already felt naked.

He’d taken off his jacket and mask and was holding my drink. I went to him and took a sip. It was better than the one we’d had at the speakeasy. “Delicious. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes raked down me as he sipped. “It’s like that costume was engineered for pleasure. Yours and mine.”

“I don’t want to have sex tonight.”

I didn’t?

His eyes flicked to my face. He betrayed no emotion. Simply nodded once. “Understood.”

“I’m sorry,” I felt compelled to add.

“No apology required.”

“It’s just?—”

“No explanation needed.”

“But I want to.” I stepped forward. “I feel too good. I feel too…connected to you, to myself, to risk ruining it with whatever feelings may come up when… It’s been a long time and…when you’re…” He raised his drink to his lips. “Do you understand?”

“Completely.”

“Good.” I exhaled. “So maybe you can just…untangle me?”

He shook his head and walked away, toward the bathroom. “No. You’re going to do that.”

“But I can’t.”

“And that’s called an assumption.”

---