Page 13 of Rome: The Ballerina

“You’re a stalker of some kind?” I asked, deflecting because I had no other words for him. This man was breathtaking. His beauty was beyond me. It was almost unreal how perfect he appeared.

“You’re some kind of sick.” He chuckled. “Because you haven’t pressed the issue with your two extras over there who follow you everywhere and keep giving me death stares. Neither have you screamed, run in the other direction, or told me I should leave you the fuck alone. In a strange way, you’re amused by, aroused by, and engrossed in my presence.

“Though I’m the only one showing it, Rome, you want me here. In your face. Taking your pictures while you’re oblivious. Making you chug water so you won’t grow faint. Demanding you wipe the little sweat you’ve managed so that you can come with me. And, keeping my promise to feed you.”

Silenced, I watched him back away from me. He didn’t stop until he was at the black Denali with black rims and a matte coating. He pulled the door open and leaned inside. When he reappeared, stretching his full length, he removed the sweaty top he’d been wearing during the run.

Saliva pooled in my mouth. I didn’t need the water he’d given me. I’d produced enough to fill a river.

His eyes found mine again. Mine found the ground. I utilized the towel for its intended purpose. Limb by limb, I began to clean the sweat from my skin.

The ridges of the towel were soft and fluffy, assuring me it wasn’t a cheap, off-brand hand towel. He’d done well. Or, whoever had purchased his necessities had done well. Either way, I was impressed. From the stories I’d heard, men lived like cave animals in the absence of a woman, be it their mother, significant other, sister, grandmother, or friend.

I wasn’t familiar with that version of the male species. Every man I’d ever said more than a few words to lived like royalty and carried themselves as kings. My circle was tailored.

I didn’t associate with those who didn’t think as I thought, live as I lived, or carry themselves as I carried myself. Their network was another story. To be around me or anyone in my family, your account must reflect the liability you immediately became once in our company.

“Where should I put it?”

Inside of me.

My thoughts rang out, startling me. I closed my eyes, searching for the familiarity of this feeling. It didn’t matter how deep I searched, I couldn’t find anything. Neither could I discern the direction of my thoughts, actions, or feelings.

It was as if I was standing in the middle of an empty stadium with only one member in the audience. He was waiting on me, counting on me to be his entertainment for the day. And, sadly, I was drawing blanks.

Craving a man at this level was petrifying. Trembling fingers continued gliding the towel across my body as I desperately tried to silence the lust overcoming me. I’d kept my virginity intact for twenty-four years, yet the man standing in front of me could have it before the sun was completely in the sky if he asked.

Pathetic. I laughed inside, softening the blows a bit.

“Excuse me?” I asked, finally facing the music. Finally facing the man.

“Your picture. It’s frame-worthy. Where should I put it?”

“I’m not sure.” I shrugged. “I haven’t been to your home. I’d be leading you blindly.”

“The mantle,” he responded. “I’m going to put it on the mantle.”

I nodded. “Sounds–good, I guess.”

The idea of my picture on the mantle of his home should’ve had me running up Mt. Clarke, full speed, or yelling for Koen and August. Instead, I pressed my feet deeper into the gravel, standing my ground as I stared up at him.

Intrigued.

Enchanted.

Tantalized.

Enthralled.

Fascinated by the mythical creature before me. He was agonizingly absorbing in the most pleasant, sweetest way. Not only was he easy on the eyes, he was easy on the heart. Easy on the soul. A breath of fresh air.

I breathed out heavily, releasing my transgressions. There was no room for them with him around. He required too much space. Too much energy. Too much.

“And, consider this an open invitation to my home. You’re welcome any time. Any day.”

“You don’t know me.” My thoughts rang out. I’d never intended for him to hear me.

“But, it feels like I do. Sometimes, you see things and meet people that you know belong in your world, even if you’re not sure at what capacity or their role.

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